AN ELEVATED PERCH

We depart from the hotel on a mild Saturday morning and head at a snail’s pace through the teeming Mumbai traffic toward the airport and an early afternoon flight to Goa. The honking taxis begin to thin and are replaced by speeding private vehicles as we pass through the more affluent suburb of Bandra on the hilltop across the bay.

Airport security gets a donation of a lighter and a knife from me and at the Spicejet check-in the stewardess tries to sell us more leg room and adjacent seats but we are not buying. A bit of turbulence and a quick nap and an hour later we are in Goa. For once, the baggage is quick to appear on the carousel.

Outside our taxi is waiting and the 31 degree heat doesn’t feel as muggy as we take to the road for the 60km journey to Morjim along a narrow, winding road that is busy enough to turn the short distance into almost a two-hour trip. As we get closer to the beaches, the passing faces change from dark brown to pale and tanned as tourists on hired scooters and bikes zip by.

With time to spare before sunset, we arrive at our destination and are quick to settle in the stilted shack that is to be the base for the next few weeks. The orange haze of the sun disappears in the clouds on the horizon as we look out from the balcony and breathe the sea air.

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We are awoken in the middle of the night by the patter of raindrops on the thatched roof. The unseasonal, seeping rain’s steady whisper eventually lulls us back to sleep and when we eventually awake the sky holds the promise of more.

It is a mild, overcast morning with the temperature somewhere in the mid-twenties as we stroll along the beach that is littered with Russian accents (even the restaurant menus have Russian translations!) and lined with restaurants and accommodation: mostly seasonal with temporary bamboo and thatch structures that will be taken down before the monsoon arrives.

We turn around after a couple of kilometres and seek out a suitable deck where we look out over the white capped expanse of the Indian Ocean as we enjoy a leisurely lunch of fresh seafood and Kashmiri naan.

As we head back to our own elevated balcony, the clouds burst and a sheet of tiny, slanting droplets stings my cooled skin. At the shack we sit – dry and satisfied – on the mosquito-netted bed as the whispered lullaby continues unrelenting.

The perfect moment for a drop of fortified Rooibos infused Ruby. With love…