Rain scrubbed plains. So green that you wonder if these are not green tinted glasses you are wearing. Sudden bursts of shower on unsuspecting heads. Chirping crickets, croaking frogs, grazing cows. This weekend was at Harihareshwar, a small village tucked into the Konkan coast.
I was meeting Urv after a year. So we thought, instead of meeting for drinks why not take a weekend break together. She would fill me up on stories of ex colleagues, sleazy bosses, love lives. Plenty of girly gossip.
Harihareshwar is known for a Shiva temple and pristine black sand beaches. It is an idyllic, quiet pastoral setting replete with farmers, gram panchayat, milking cows, intermittent electricity. And the beaches are truly virgin and beautiful.
There is not much to do. That is of course part of the charm. We walked the slippery roads, marveled at the mossy lakes, sudden brooks which spring up from nooks. A smiling, curly haired local lady fed us Konkan fish, poha, Zunka bhakar, sol kadi, modaks. Coconuts in everything.
My favourite hour? Riding on rickety local cycles, rusting on all ends. Riding as if nothing mattered, no goal in sight, just to enjoy the roadscape. Waving to farmers as we flew along, tyres hiccupping over dried nettles.