September 13, 2014



I am extremely proud of the fact that I have spent most of my life along the Arabian Sea in places like Murdeshwar, Honnavar, Mumbai and Goa. After all, it is one of the biggest factors that makes the west coast of India so rich in terms of topography, culture and most importantly, biodiversity. For all the history lovers, it was through this route that the Europeans came to our shores in the middle ages. Having spent so much time in this part of the world, I have seen the many facets of the Arabian Sea; at least that is what I thought all along.

However, in Gokarna, I was in for a pleasant surprise. The Arabian Sea seemed to be possessed; quite literally. Generally, it is calm and peaceful. In fact, in the last twenty-five years, I had never seen the western sea in so much rage. Fueled by the copious amount of waters pumped in by the countless rivers that crisscross the Karavalli coast, the Arabian was on fire. The roaring sound of the waves was deafening. Wave after wave, the saline waters kept on clashing against the rocks on the coast, making a splash with each hit. It seemed as if the rocks were impregnable fortress whereas the waves represented an opposing army determined to capture it, though in vain. The sea had nearly encroached the entire stretch of the beach. This was the 'Rudra' avataar or the aggressive form of the Arabian and I must say, in this form it evoked a mixture of awe, fear and most importantly respect. Probably influenced by the rough sea, the winds too were flowing at unusually high speeds and the coconut trees on the beach were having a tough time negotiating them.

The vast expanse of the Arabian as seen from Namaste Cafe
The waves clashing against the rocks...
...again and again

For more posts in the series: GOKARNA DIARIES: AUG'14, click here (Link)