Weekend bliss in Kashid

A good holiday is one that is spent among people whose notions of time are vaguer than yours – J. B. Priestley. I smiled as I read this and cltr-c-ctrl-v’d it on the side-bar of my travel blog. This weekend at Kashid was just one such holiday.

Kashid – three hours from where we live, the drive till Alibag on smooth roads leading tantalizingly to Goa, and beyond that part of the route along the sea, through small villages and narrow roads, villagers carrying on with their lives as usual, responding to queries about directions and distances with practiced ease. Earlier just an isolated beach now suddenly finding world-weary holiday makers from Bombay rushing towards it every weekend, Kashid has responded by staying isolated and laidback. The ideal weekend for those seeking to get away from it all – and not carrying it all with them. Plenty of stay options – small and large seaside resorts (offering distant views of the sea), a FRIENDS (and hastily added for reassurance) AND FAMILY HOLIDAY HOME, even a NEHA TRUEST HOME – VEG, NON-VEG. Touching. Food options not much but for the shacks and plenty of Chinis eateries all along the way and around, from the pompous New China Town in a shed just after Alibag to the more honest Sadguru Chiniss joint in Murud.

Saturday lunch at four followed by two hours in the shaded porch under the coconut trees, looking at the sea in the distance, blue now, a shimmering white a few minutes later. I spent a pleasant and instructive afternoon, the Simoqin Prophecies lying opened and unread (sorry Samit) on my lap, eyes closed and trying to identify bird calls and spot the corresponding owner of the voice. I admit I didn’t make much progress beyond the kroaky kraws. Husband spent an equally p. and i. afternoon making conversation with the resident resort cat, giving up soon when the white and brown animal showed no interest in his friendly hey cat calls, and then staring at the television, Ajay Devgan and Akshay Kumar mouthing unbelievable bilge in a movie called Suhaag. In all, a very good afternoon with ipod and television but no mobile phone and no laptop.

Saturday evening a Kashid beach, the few shacks that displayed signs of cold drinks and oily snacks just right for an evening at the beach all shut. I remarked to my husband that the entire village(?) must have gone to Bombay for the long weekend to escape the heat and the crowds. He glared at me and kept walking, looking down at the patterns his muddy wet feet made on the clear white sands, turning golden with the sunset colours.

Declarations of love, some young and innocent, some suggesting dangerous and illicit out-of-town week-end relations. Groups of shrieking teenagers (grrr, I assure you I was never one) running around in and out of the waters, group photographs in great demand. Families playing cricket (husband wanting desperately to join in), rules made and broken at will, taking a break for a buggy ride into the sunset; husband unceasingly humming humko tumse ho gaya hai pyar kya karein… and getting nostalgic about good old Hindi cinema.

Later at night, the roads deserted and dark, my search for an STD booth, having lost the mobile connection a few kilometers and hours earlier, futile. Back at the resort, the disco jumping with exactly one person – mami of Tamil origin (not me, I assure you) rocking the floor – we peeped in for exactly four seconds and beat a hasty retreat, mami-jiving and Himesh-crooning not the ideal way to end a happy day.

Kashid beach, sleepy and forlorn on Saturday evening came alive on Sunday. The swings were occupied, shacks open and dispensing countless plates of omelettes and pakoras, cooling coconut water and Coke jumping off the shelves rapidly. Plastic chairs had appeared as if out of nowhere, and some kind soul had put up hammocks across the sandy stretch. Two hours on the hammock, watching the sun go down in the sea just a few feet away, feeling the gentle evening breeze on the face, listening to people all around discuss their jobs and PhD plans. It was totally dark by the time I stepped off the hammock, my spine having developed an abnormal curvature. The shacks were closing and the cars had all but left and the sky had switched on its lights – we stepped on to the beach for a few minutes looking up at the night sky, the stars that shy away from city lights out in full force…