For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)it’s always ourselves we find in the sea. – E.E Cummings
Imagine yourself drenched in moonlight underneath silver pecks of light scattered across the sky. Your feet graze the smooth texture of sand sending shivers down your spine. Guitar strings merge in with the waves of the sea and you do not wish to be anywhere else but here. A familiar touch takes you by surprise as your friend takes a seat right by your side. Now you both are drenched in moonlight underneath the silver pecks of light scattered across the sky.
Whenever I think that my mind is too overwhelmed with all the meaningless conversations and endless workloads that leave my bones aching by the end of the day. I sit on my bed, switch off the lights and visualise myself sitting by the seaside in Gokarna, a small town in the Southwestern part of Karnataka. It was a three-day trip planned for my friend’s birthday. There were about six of us, three girls and three boys ready to explore a new place and celebrate our friendship. After a long day of visiting several beaches such as Om Beach known for its insanely steep rocky cliffs and beautiful sunsets, we made our way back to our stay right by the Gokarna beach. It was called RK Beach Cottage. These were little blue cottages with bunker beds and wooden tables on the front porch overlooking the endless sea. Regardless to say, we spent most of our time riding ocean waves and as a result, our bodies were drowning in exhaustion. So right after we freshened up, we made a run for the nearest cafe in sight. Even from afar, you could see the yellow lights dancing in the dark and if you listened closely, you could almost hear the music playing faintly.
Chez Christophe was wretched on a block of wood right next to it, the cafe’s name. It was a French cafe with colours, music and lights lighting up the place like it was a private house party. Even the people working took happy strides serving mouthwatering dishes and booze on the side. I wasn’t blind to the old man on one corner dancing and laughing to himself, surely high on something I can’t tell. We took our cushion seats on the floor alongside many others. There were long wooden tables with cheeslings on bowls for us to binge on until our dinner arrived. A foreigner soon arrived with his guitar and started playing some good old classic country music and all eyes were on him. Time slipped away with ease, between us waiting on the famous Ratatouille dish (from the movie Ratatouille). Turns out the dish wasn’t as grand as it appeared in the movies but was it worth the taste? No, but sometimes it’s okay to try new things.
We stayed there for much longer than we intended to, and why wouldn’t we? After such an exhausting day, the cafe provided us with a feeling of comfort and warmth. Everything was too good to be true, from the ambience to the people. Yet this was my life now and I was dearly grateful. Even though we were ready to make our way back to our bunk beds, the party had only started at Chez Christophe. It was much later in the night when some people, including the Indian cafe owner, I caught dancing with the lot and getting into some friendly banters. That’s when it hit me, this place was more than just a cafe to these people, it was home.
