Third part of the trilogy: ‘An Explorer’s Paradise’

A PLACE CALLED HOME

Waves, like stories. It all ends when somewhere else it all begins just to end again. And with each beginning and ending, they mark an impression; some faded by the others, some forever.

Karthik has always wanted to paint these words somewhere, but he never had the chance. Of all the lands he has visited after his retirement, he had never found an empty wall, and even when he found one, he never did write on them; unlike the dozen phone numbers and caricatures on the historical monuments. As he cycled on the road near the coast, Dhruv was stopping now and then, trying to catch his breath.

“You never mentioned about a visit to the beach,” Dhruv yelled out, as he braked again. 

“I never mentioned about us getting lost in the woods either.”

“Well, that was a probability.”

“So is this,” Karthik stopped as well. “I am sensing that you don’t like beaches.”

“Your senses are right. This place is pointless. Just waves and wind.”

Karthik said nothing, but smiled as he stepped on the pedals again, making his way to the next curve. Dhruv raced to him. 

“Ever been in love?” Karthik asked. 

“No, why?” 

“Beaches provide the best place for a hangout, you know?” 

“I hangout with my friends in places like these,” Dhruv said with hand gestures. 

“You like those hangouts?” 

“Of course, I do.”

“So many memories, huh?” 

“Yeah, one time we were chasing each other on the sand, and a crab crawled on one of the guy’s toes. It was lame!” 

Karthik laughed. “That’s a good memory. Even I have memories at the beaches.”

“Oh!” Dhruv exclaimed. “What kind of memories?” 

“Mostly volleyball games. My friends and I used to cut classes at the university and play volleyball by the coast. We would get fried under the sun, and then we’d sink each other in the waves, letting the heat escape.” 

“You sound like a fun kind of guy back in the days.”

“Indeed, I was.” Karthik chained his bicycle to a pole, chaining his shoes along with it. “Let’s explore.”

Photography: F.S.

As the many fishermen sang along, pushing the canoe towards the coast, the fishes in them stopped their struggle. The base of the canoe carried the sand, tracing a path. Some of them stuck to the strong legs of the pushers, but they didn’t seem to mind it either. It was their land, and they respected the land. 

It was almost seven in the morning, and Karthik realised that he had shaped the lazy teenager to a bit more responsible one. He was breathing with his eyes open at seven, snapping pictures on his phone for instagram and the followers. All the photo Karthik needed now was the persistence of vision. It left a mark somewhere in his brain. 

“So, Dhruv,” Karthik said as he made himself comfortable on the sand. “Did your dad ever take you to the beach?” 

“No,” Dhruv accompanied him. “My mom used to take me. The only water my dad has seen is the melted ice in the Indian borders.” 

“Not a fan of him, are you?”

“No, he was always strict with his discipline.”

“That sounds like a good father figure lacking the fun side.”

“Exactly, and the one time he took me to the beach, he pointed at one of the wave and said that is wave, and gave me lectures on how he never had the chance to see them when he was of my age.”

“That sounds like a fun trip,” Karthik grinned. Out of the corner of the eye, he spotted a father and a son playing with the waves. For each approaching wave, the father would let the wave flow through his son’s legs and would pick him up again, making him excited. “I don’t blame you for not being fond of the beach. Memories like those never fade.” Dhruv nodded as well.

“I wish my father was like you,” Dhruv sighed. 

“Why is that?”

“You seem to be fun, you know about many things, you even cycle at fifty years old which is pretty badass.” 

Karthik laughed. “I was never like this ten years back. I was working day and night for a job I hated, working shifts not seeing daylight. I lived with a dog in my apartment most of my life, and all these were my choice. And the things I know today? They came from seeing things I have seen in the past years. Maybe your dad never did, he was more concerned about protecting our borders, protecting a whole country so that people like you could sleep at night peacefully and enjoy the day happily. I never did any of those.” 

Dhruv remained silent, counting the waves. It seemed to relax him. Karthik put his arms around his shoulder. “It isn’t your fault though,” he said. “What you wished and what you got are the extremes of a line. But that will make you a great father someday, if you wish to be one.”

“I want to travel like you with no boundaries attached.” 

“Well, my problem was that I had commitment issues. You can still travel with another person, it adds more spirit to it,” Karthik smiled.

“Hopefully.” 

As each wave washed away a piece of shore like a monster stealing the soul, a beautiful soul that wanted to live, the day was starting to get brighter. A group of young men with laughter walked past them with a volleyball and a net. The shore would soon get crowded with the morning walkers, the beachball players, the fishermen and even the occasional roamers. Karthik knew he had passed through each of the stage, and now he was walking through that tight rope soon to reach it’s deadline. 

“How do you feel about going back home today?” Karthik asked Dhruv. 

“Today? That’s too soon.”

“Well, you should know that it’s been two weeks of you roaming with me. And you told your Dad you’d be home in two weeks. I expect you to keep your word.”

“But this is much more beautiful than working day and night.”

“True, and for all of this to happen you need to have a bit more experience. You need to get a bit more wiser. I’m sure you’ll make it big someday.” 

“When should I leave?” Dhruv sighed. 

“Now.” 

Karthik stood up and walked to the waves, keeping a safe distance. It was a ritual to write something on the sand so that the waves could wash them away, so that the waves could take the message to someone far away. As a child, he remembered how he used to write on the sand that the Mother of waves failed so that he could see the next wave a bit larger than the last ones. Today, he wrote the words he had wanted to paint somewhere. Soon, the waves would wash them away to some distant land. 

Photography : Kevin Sreenath

The two gentlemen walked away from the approaching crowd, from the approaching waves which ended to begin again somewhere else, just to end again, leaving impressions somewhere. They’d realised that those words were true. 

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“You should know that your Dad is going to raise at you for leaving without his permission. You might even get beaten up,” Karthik spoke. “But you should know he is doing all this because he care. Don’t raise back, just listen to him and if he give you a chance, explain what you saw. And ace that interview you are going to face.” 

“I don’t know how to pay you back,” Dhruv began. 

“Save it. Maybe twenty years from now you will see a clueless boy such as you running away from home. Help him, and maybe find him his way back home. And remember, the explorer’s paradise is always there for you.”

Dhruv walked past the gate to his home. The thunder would begin and the storm would begin. And they shall pass. He knew he had set his foot on a path he’d explore for a long time. A long time until the home calls him back. A long time until he longs for that call.