Shell, Shore & Sand

If someday I am presented with an opportunity to have children and settle somewhere with the love of my life, my foremost priority would be a house facing the beach. I do like the majestic mountains; a house near a waterfall, perhaps. I also considered Greenland once, and when I think about it, a countryside house with a few chickens also sounds good. But nothing compares to the vast ocean, the calmness of the winds, the soothing sound of the waves dancing upon the shore, and, above all, the factor which never fails to captivate me: the mesmerizing sunsets. I would prefer a beach sunset over a mountain sunset any day. There is a unique grace in watching the sun dip below the horizon of the water, with the clouds waving it a gentle goodbye. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have grown up near the shore.

As a child, I wasn't allowed to venture to the beach alone, primarily because I couldn't swim and, well, because I was a child. The beach lies approximately 300 meters from the threshold of my home. Although I never learned to swim, there exists an unexplainable emotion that tugs at my heartstrings whenever I think of the sea. I vividly recall the route my father took when he first introduced me to its splendor; I must have been about five years old. I clung tightly to my father's hand, fearful of falling. After that day, I would plead (and if that didn't work, I even threw tantrums) for him to take me again, whenever he had a day off. On the occasions when he did take me, I would be over the moon.

While I don’t distinctly remember my activities at the beach, the journey there is etched in my memory. We would walk through a dried-up, bushy terrain that served as a shortcut. At the end of the path, we would encounter a clearing where my eldest brother and his friends often played cricket. The shore and this playing area were separated by arrays of giant pine trees. Beyond those trees lay the sand—the grimy beach sand of my childhood. 

The first school I attended was situated just off the coast; we could see the distant ocean if we peeped through the window, even from the ground floor. During primary school, we often had physical education lectures and sports days on the sand. I had a weak immune system growing up, so I used to make sure to fall sick the next day:) The children used to play all sorts of games there. Now, when I look back at the little girl I was, unaware of any evil in the outside world, wearing my blue and white uniform and making sandcastles with other girls, I realize how beautiful and priceless those moments were, and it lowkey makes me sad thinking how it won't comeback.

One day, I observed a procession heading towards the beach through the window. I was in 4th grade at the time. Among the crowd, 4-7 men, most of them bald, carried a white bundle on their shoulders. Curious, I asked my friend about it, and she explained that it was a corpse being taken to the beach for cremation, a ritual to attain Moksha. That day, I learned it is a Hindu custom to perform cremations near water bodies. My mother later told me, there was a designated area to the right side of the beach for such rituals, which we were to avoid. From then onwards, whenever I saw black smoke rising up from the seaside, I understood that it was from the fire of a person's last existence. Not everyone had the same intentions of going to the beach, I thought.

My childhood was filled with visits to the beach, playing in the water while holding my father's hand, feeling the small waves wash over my feet. Occasionally, my mother would join us, although she often complained about the litter. Another memory I have is with my other older brother. He and I would collect seashells, competing to find the bigger ones. One time, I gathered a handful of innocent shells from the wet sand, proudly showed them to my brother, and took them home. I didn't have a pocket, so I held them tightly in my fist. On the way back, something bit my palm, and when I opened my hand, there were tiny creatures emerging from the shells. Terrified, I threw them all away right there. From that day, I never dared to touch a shell from the wet sand, as they often housed living creatures. Shells only from the dry sand are safe to pick—the first lesson of my life I learned the hard way.

These recollections are among the earliest and most cherished memories I have of my childhood. Its something which I would never forget. The ocean has taught me a lot of aspects of life. A sea shore is where I want to spend my life. Where I want to get married, maybe under a tent. Where I want to raise my children and build sand castles with them. And who wouldn't like a house with a private beach in the backyard? Perishing there under a tombstone with a fancy quote also sounds good. It is a different world with depth, like literally.

As I grew older, my attachment to the ocean grew with me. Gradually, I started going there with my friends for birthdays and the street food (I've been to multiple cities,  the panipuri here is the best). My brothers started taking me there for walks, those were the walks where we bonded without fighting for once, and we only came back after sunset. Like its said, there's a sunset every single day, we shouldn't miss too many of them.

The beach was modified over the years, becoming the biggest tourist attraction in my city. I learned that we had a big studio down the coast where many famous TV serials were shot. The architecture was elevated, a sea wall was built, and supporting it were ginormous rocks. Multiple playgrounds with swings were introduced, lights were installed, seats were built, and it was looked after and cleaned routinely. Today, it is not the same beach I remember from my childhood. But the one thing that remains constant is my love for it.

Now, as a grown woman, I can say that the sea is my safe place. I go there, sit, and look at its vastness when I feel like life is slipping out of my hands. It makes me humble, as if I am nothing in front of it. I close my eyes and listen to the waves for solutions. I walk on the sand barefoot. I don't fix my hair when the wind messes it up; I take it as hugs from the ocean. I talk to the clouds and whisper secrets into the orange sky, and the uneasiness with which I went there disappears just like the distant setting sun.

I still collect shells, but not for the same reasons I did when I was a child. When I think about it, the empty shells were once homes for living creatures. They were used and discarded, fought over and won by a creature and lost by other, deserted when the resident grew greedy for a bigger one. It's not just a beautiful piece of calcium; it was once a prize in nature, maybe an achievement or a sacrifice. I have always loved shells and it has a special meaning for me. I never miss an opportunity to pick one when I go there. And I would never just give away the ones I collect to anyone:)

The sea is not just the small waves, dry sands, and cute little fish nets. It has its own ugly side, like every other aspect of Mother Nature. When the high tide hits the shore, it swallows everything in its way. The winds blow so strong that they upturn the boats sailing within. No cute, ice cream-shaped clouds, nor a glimpse of the sand where I walked barefoot a couple of hours ago, and the sound coming from the roars of the enormous waves is deafening. The giant rocks and the sea wall cannot contain its strength. It's not easy to love something so destructive. It turns into a killer. I've seen a shark and a jellyfish, both dead, washed up on the shore. I've seen the crowded beach during low tides, but the moment it turns ugly, it's abandoned. People are blind to the fact, that in the chaos of her soul flows beauty. 

I hope in the years to come, I would still cherish the piece of my heart that I left here, whenever I visit. No matter how old I am or where in the world I might be, if everything starts feeling heavy, I will run to the shore no matter how far I am. If I were to compare my love for someone, I would compare it to the water in the ocean. Because I love ocean, but I don't know how to swim. I will love the shallows and the depths, the breeze and the storm, the saline and secrets, the shells and the bones, and if I were to drown, well I loved the ocean, knowing I don't know how to swim.

p.s. I am not Moana, I can't be, even if I want to; I am the chicken from the movie:)