After a fairly normal night of sleep, by far the best since coming to India, I decided to head out to Betul by rented bicycle. After polishing off the first ten-kilometer stretch from Benaulim to Mobar in excellent time, followed by the ferryboat crossing into Betul, I asked around about the ‘secluded idyllic beach’ that I had read about and was told it was four kilometers down the road.

After covering what seemed like roughly four K’s, which included a very steep incline at which point my left knee began to speak to me, I spoke with a woman who was walking by the road in the middle of an area that most people would liken to ‘nowhere’. She assured me that the beach lay ahead. Just follow the road for another ten to fifteen minutes. That’s odd, I thought. The book had said it was a half-hour’s walk from Betul. I was beginning to think that perhaps I’d missed the beach that the book had written of and was being directed to another. Oh well. I continued riding on what felt like a raised plateau. I eagerly awaited the drop in altitude that would take me down to the Sea.

Finally it came. I descended into a more humid and jungle-like atmosphere. The beach couldn’t be far now. Unfortunately, the road began to climb back up. The outside of my left knee was really beginning to act up, forcing me to walk the bike. After a painful uphill hike I found myself on the plateau once again. No beach. The landscape was burnt and dry. I was feeling more like I was in Spain than in India. Onward I biked. After riding for at least another ten minutes I stopped to speak with a woman who was waiting at a bus stop. Like the first person, she assured me that the beach lay ahead. Just keep biking in the same direction, she motioned.

With the Sun climbing ever so close to its peak in the sky, across the parched plateau I continued. Now my knee was hurting all the time. But on the flat the pain was minimal so I just cycled at an easy gentle pace, all the while telling myself that the pain was not real, or at the very least, that it was insignificant. I believed that the time I had was as good or bad as I would make it. The knee situation could be made irrelevant by the right frame of mind. (more…)

…such striking Beauty.

The huge boulders that decorated the cove in front of my hut offered a front row center seat for watching the setting Sun. As if I’d not been dazzled enough for one day, the Sun threw out its brilliant colours of wine, red and purple as it dropped out of sight. I was loving India!

The next two days were spent exploring the surrounding area. It’s beaches, rivers, hills and sandy flatlands were all so special and easily accessible with footpaths leading everywhere. So much more so than in any of the other countries I’d seen, walking was a popular form of transport in India. Tens and tens of people could be seen doing the three-kilometer walk from the village to the town market every day.

On the morning of the Full Moon I awoke with a trip to the toilet much needed. This had been the case for the last two days as well. But what left me that day dwarfed the others by comparison. Much bigger than any BM that came first thing upon rising, before the daily watermelon flush.

I laid back in bed for Pranayama. It felt so good and I waited several minutes before beginning my breathing routine. I felt such Light.

After Yoga I decided to have breakfast on the beach. Upon finishing, the toilet called once again. Although not very sizable, this release was rather foul smelling. Immediately it was obvious something of significance had left me. I felt very good.

Finishing up I headed into my hut. That’s when it hit. The feeling was tremendous. I felt to do nothing but pick up a sarong and sit by the Sea. I sat cross-legged feeling super. I don’t know if I could say that my body had ever felt so good. Description is difficult. When I was very young my favorite little toy was a small stuffed rabbit. In hindsight, that morning I think I felt similar to how it felt to touch and hold this bunny in my hands. So beautiful was this sensation that I felt that morning. Warm and soft. Gentle to the touch.

…after lunch that day I decided to head out for another walk. This time, down a road I’d yet to discover. After a nice little chat with another shopkeeper who, by the way, was the first rug dealer not to ask me to have a look at his wares, I noticed a sandy path leading into an overgrown field. Ooh, this was fun. I loved all the space that India was offering. This field led into a more open pasture sprinkled with coconut and mango trees, as well as a few other varieties unknown to me. It was all so picturesque. Off in one corner of the pasture stood a lush, green tree leaning way out to one side, creating a large shady area in which to sit. Beneath it was a carpet of soft cow-mowed grass. Sitting cross-legged felt absolutely wonderful. So Light. So Beautiful. Large pariah kites floated overhead, gliding effortlessly under the clear blue sky. At some point a herd of cattle passed by, heading for another field. Such slick beings with much longer horns than I’d ever seen.

It occurred to me during my time under this tree that India was in fact a forgotten Dream come true. When I was but a wee lad I was so intrigued by India. Then as I grew older, I wanted to travel there. That desire remained until the Hawaii/Thailand voyage of just a year ago, at which point it all but vanished. But now, in a surprising turn of events, I was here in India sitting under a tree in the middle of such a picturesque pasture with fruit trees, some abundant with buds, scattered about. Not only that, but I was now a Yogi. Yoga had been somewhat of a turn-off for me throughout most of my life, something that looked boring – a limp pastel blue. Well things had certainly come together I would say.

Since I first sat down under that tree, I’d had my eye on some succulent-looking little green leaves that were springing up at random around me. They looked a lot like taro plants so I figured if the leaves of this plant, which is a well-known tropical root vegetable, were edible, I would probably have heard of it by now. Regardless, I decided to try one. The first moment or two of chewing brought no discernible taste, then all of a sudden, W H A M !! Instantly it felt as though my mouth was full of thumbtacks. It really hurt! The half-chewed leaf flew from my mouth like a toad escaping the jaws of a snake. I needed to rinse my mouth badly, but had no water. I did however, have a cucumber. I yanked it from my bag and peeled frantically. I chewed up a chunk then spit it out. I repeated this procedure until the cucumber was gone. A mild pain remained but gradually diminished over the next twenty minutes or so. I learned that enduring a less than desirable taste was not the only thing that could happen when sampling leaves. Sometimes Mother Nature ensures that no mistakes be made under no uncertain terms…!