We did get to Dive Agar. Was like a treasure hunt and it indeed is a treasure ! It’s a small place. A gram panchayat. That must settle it. But for all of those that need more explanation : imagine simple dwellings. Small lanes. People sitting in their front yards, most of which is the road itself. Some of them viewing you as though you are riding a kangaroo with three legs and big moustache !
But then, they really are simple people. Simple Minds. Simple Homes. Simpe egos and such else. A home that caught my attention on the way, was the one you see below which was more exotic than the most of what those big builders offer. ( At prices that could well maket me a bonded labourer for three generations)
How would it be to retire here. With the grassland as your garden, real mountain as a wall paper !
For a big city officianado, frankly, there is nothing to do here. That sentence reads as ‘no malls here’. Those malls with parking lots and attendants who guide the cars into parking bays imagining themselves to be Air Traffic Controllers guiding an aircraft on to its parking bay. Those were 200 kilometers behind us.
The claim to fame of Diveagar is its beach. That beach is long and clean. But more important to me, is that it is a few kilometers of COMMERCE FREE ZONE! No candy. No ground nut. No silly target practice with a bunch of balloons and bent air guns, with which you cant hit a target as big as buffalo on growth hormones, not to think of those small oddly shaped balloons.
There were no swank cars. No ice creams the size of cauliflowers. No groundnut vendors. No gola. No Pav bhaji. Nothing. Just the beach and its sand bubbler crabs !
Ah. One exception. Just one old chap on a carriage pulled by horse look alikes. And no takers. We were content walking barefeet that we politely declined his offer for a ride on the beach. The horse look alikes seemed to nod and neigh in great happiness, and I strongly suspect they managed to look at our pizza powered bulges through the corners of their blinkers.
The little of the tourists that we saw, were more like us. Thankful to walk and spare the horse look alikes religiously, that we could have applied for some award sponsored by SPCA or someone of that ilk. Some time soon, the horse cart was out of sight !
It was such a relief. The only murmur and occasional shout, came from the waves and the breeze. All else was silent! The waves themselves leaving patterns on the beach which could take up all of the hard disk space on my camera !
The sun dance was spectacular, to say the least. Playing hide and seek with such élan that at one point, the missus repeated a line that she has a particular way of saying. She has said it enough times in the recent past and I usually interpret it as ‘danger’.
‘Its either the camera or me’. I stopped. Obviously.