Reflections

Glimpses of Goa
Sun, sand, sea and much more…
After a long drive from Bombay, I reach Goa late in the night. The place I am
recommended to stay in, has no vacant room, so I drive round the corner and find, in a
large compound, a large and elegant old house with some rooms to let.
A young man shows me the room with obvious pride. He politely suggests that I take
off my shoes so as to keep the sand out and insists that I see the bathroom. Its walls
are painted with scenes of hills, beaches and coconut trees. All of it, his doing. He
apologises for the dim lights. I like the ambience. Haggle about the rent. Pay the
advance and crash out.
It's morning. The matronly looking mother comes to ask me if I want tea. Also asks
what rent I am paying to the son. Then goes on to tell her life story. How she built the
six rooms, one each for her sons and daughters. How she sweeps, cleans and manages,
while they keep the money. That her husband is old and useless, does not do a thing;
he is stupid and stubborn. If he says lunch at 12 noon, it better be 12 noon. That one of
her sons is on drugs and how sometimes, she has to put him in a hospital. When I ask
if sodas are available nearby, she replies, 'Here, you can get everything – drugs, sex,
bad girls and even AIDS. This place has gone to hell'.
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