I’m in “no time.” What I mean is that time doesn’t matter much here for me by the beach in Northern Kerela –– today, soon, later, its ready, or tomorrow –– it’s all the same. I like it that way. It gives me time to think and write a little. My time will change and Neeleshwar is a good place to stay before our long flights back to Canada.
I’m sitting on the veranda of our cottage, “Sama.” Like the meaning of its name, equanimity, mental calmness, is all around. In front of me are three bands. The blue Arabian Sea, the golden beach, and the rich green coast. They all depend on each other.
I listen to the quiet crackle of coconut palms swaying. Beyond a small lagoon, waves whoosh and slap up on the beach. A man in a pale orange lungi walks the line between the beach and the sea, dragging a fishing net. A couple of crows come out of their roost in the coconut trees to caw at him and perhaps wait for a treat.
A young white-bellied sea eagle that nests with its family in some large trees a few hundred metres down the coast, soars high, directly into the sun, catching the thermals. The magnificent raptor is careful not to cast its shadow on its prey, the fish below. Earlier this morning a family of dolphins played and feasted on a school of fish while we walked the beach after our morning yoga session.
This is the Malabar Coast, a 845 km strip between the Arabian Sea and the Western Ghats in South India. From 3000 BC in between long stretches of beach are trading centres for fish and spices. Major cities like Kannur, Calicut and Cochin with a few exceptional villages like Tellicherry, delight both visitors and locals.
I’m in awe of the timelessness of nature and history. We’ll need to work hard to keep it. For our children.