The wind in my hair...sand on my feet...song in my heart....love in my soul

I live in a small town, beside the sea. There are plenty of wide open spaces, lot of fresh air and the blue sea, from every vantage point. From the time I was young I’ve always preferred the picnic to the sea than the drive uphill. My dad’s side of the family had this fascination with hills, the chilly winds and plantations. With my mother’s side, it was always the sea. My maternal grandfather even owned a boat and had a house facing the sea. My rather adventurous uncles managed to get themselves a kayak. Those days it was a rare thing. To own a kayak in Kerala. (There was no need for it ofcourse, when we have kettuvallams) But for some reason they thought it was cool. And believe me it was. It’s very different from a kettuvallam. The technique of manoeuvring the boat is a different ball-game totally. Both required different skills, and one was not better than the other. But perhaps more novel because it was ‘foreign’.
Coming back to the romance with the sea, though all of us (my siblings) like to claim that our predominant genes are from our larger-than-life almost legendary paternal grandfather, my enthralment with the waters must be a genetic thing, that i inherited from my maternal strain.
And my absorption with the sea continued to grow as I grew out of adolescence, puberty, teenage, and early youth. My every fantasy had the sea along with it. My every day-dream featured the deep. At fifteen when I was this gawky teenager, with curly short hair, braces and stick like legs, not to mention dark and waif-like, I used to imagine that I would one day become this nymph. I would see myself (the model in the Old Spice ad that used to come on television in the early eighties). I would imagine that it I would look like this suntanned beauty with long straight hair. But even then, I preferred my hair black(the Old Spice model was a blonde) and in my dreams even though I had this awesome figure I still wore my sarong, never cared much for the bikinis. I would emerge from the waters, and slowly walk towards the shore. ...never got to dream further than that...but like I was saying it had the sea in the back ground.
And as I grew older, though I never became the Old Spice model, not even close(my legs changed from sticks to cellulite endowed). My reverie changed drastically. But the sea faithfully remained. I saw myself as this average built person who was happy about how she looked, even though she wore shapeless shorts and absolutely unflattering T-shirt, not bothered about her unwaxed legs, but just happy to be...with the wind in her hair, the sand on her feet, hands stretched out wide. The smile on her face reflected the simple joy of who she has become, and everything she believed in. Happy with life and most of all, always surrounded by this love-that-knows-no-bounds, kind of a feeling. It was picture perfect. This has remained my day dream till date. And the sea still remains in the back ground.
However , I may one day build a house on a cliff-top and have my very own, room-with-a-view. I may grow old to become a grandmother (still with my sarong) who walks the beach barefoot collecting shells with my grandchildren. And I pray that the sea still remains. Azure and blue.
Even if I mange to do all that, it’s the scene from the day dream that continues to fascinate me. It’s my perfect picture postcard. A snapshot frozen in time, of a life well lived and living.... (Sometimes I do feel the person I become when I am here (BlogSpot) is pretty close to what I want to be on the beach on that perfect day. )
Don’t know if it’s merely a fancy, a wishful thinking perhaps maybe even a distant dream. But I have made this promise to myself....the next time I am on the beach....my day dream will become a reality. Even if it means it will take another year, or a few, or maybe even a decade to visit the beach again!