Its five a.m. and once again I am drawn to the beauty of the sea. Its terrible beauty with angry waves and heaving swells. Jumped the gate of my "hotel" about half an hour ago and had been walking aimlessly since then. Btw those quotes before hotel are quite apt, at 40 bucks a night with an "attached" yet strangely broken bathroom......Anyway I sit on the beach and I am happy. I can hear the gentle humming of the sea and I am happy.
Had left the night before, dropped off at Howrah by a potty mouth with a bike. The train drops you off at Behrampur [whose station code is a curious BAM] sometime in the morning and from there its a half hour bus ride to Gopalpur at Sea. Yes that is the real name, I kid you not. A name which has given scholars many sleepless nights, especially when they are googling.
For instance is it
a) Gopalpur @ Sea?; or
b) Gopalpur at C?; or
c)Gopalpur @ C
No. Seriously. I am not making this shit up. Someone actually did type the above.
Anyway the ten hour train ride takes you through some of the cleanest stations I have ever seen and a huge. huge lake with tons of greenery. And the chackas on the train were probably some of the sweetest I have ever met. Quite polite too.
Gopalpur is so far down south, most people speak Telugu here. You can even spot those handsome hunks of the south, tight t-shirts, bristling moustaches and that killer set of shades. Its a bit of a ruined town, must have been popular a while ago but is clearly down in the dumps by now. Has this resigned air about it.
Started raining the moment I reached. Wonderful. Sat on the beach, munching on freshly fried shrimp, beer bottle in hand. The waves are apparently quite dangerous here, which means that you wont really find Uncle, Aunty, Bunny and Sunny doing the sea-dance over here. Preferable.
Saw the fishermen mending their nets and generally stared around for quite some time. Found this beautiful temple; one of those rare specimens which actually brings some peace of mind. The village itself is this tiny, tiny collection of streets with houses jutting over on either side. The word "picturesque" springs to the mind.
Crashed quite early on the first day. Which explains the early morning stroll the next day. It has often been observed that a sun rise on the beach has a certain degree of romance to it. The sky slowly turning pink with the sun, boats returning back with their sails blowing in the wind.
The fishermen at Gopalpur shit in the sea. Like on the beach. Then they wait for the waves to wash their bums. In the early morning. So if one was to walk down said beach at said time, one would see a string of people squatting on the beach with their bums facing the sea. Very romantic.
Observable ablutions over, I am once again left free to stare and think. Over to the left, an old man is throwing his line into the sea, catching tiny fish every now and then. Like the way he throws the line, quite grace to it which I find interesting.
I wander around till lunch and then leave for part two of this journey. Off to Mandarmani to meet the other monkeys. Monkeys with bikes. Logically I should have reached there in about 8 hours. Thirty hours later, I descend onto Digha station. One hour after that I am looking at three policemen while my fellow bike riders are hastily covering their semi-nakedness. Trying my best not to smile and desperately searching for that apologetic look.
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| Gopalpur Blues |
