Hey let us go to “Tarkarli”… Tarkarli…?… Tarkarli…?…Virgin beach of kokan India. Yes the name did ring a bell at the back of my sleeping memory… Why but? At morning or rather should I say earlier than dawn my dull sleepy brain neither did comprehend the question nor gave out any answers… So like as usual, I would go back to sleep thinking it as a dream…. Yes indeed, the journey started with a “so called dream”… But by the time reality crept in, I was already packing my bags for the trip me and my friends always dreamt of.
The journey started from “Panvel”, with an eventful event of regular begging for seats to the Ticket Checker (TC), which finally ended with the TC almost throwing me out of the train for carrying a general ticket and trying to board the 3AC. But an Olympics level 100 meter sprint took me to the general compartment, wherein I pushed myself into an overloaded compartment. After the first few hours of grueling battle to sustain my one-legged standing position inside the corridor towards the “shauchalya (western toilet)”, I finally got down at an intermittent station to join my friends for a proper nap in the 3AC. Eyes opened next day with an excitement to reach our first destination “Kudal”. Lazily drooling through the window, we all sat for the destination station to arrive. It finally did, but as per Indian standard Time (IST) an hour and half late.
A cold drink along with an awesome “Misal Pav with Vada” was enough to fill up our hungry tummy’s mouth for a few hours. The heat had taken a toll on us… within 15 minutes the complete cold drinks which went inside us started trickling out of our sweat glands. With all our backpacks we were looking like coolies (though not as handsome as Amitabh Bacchan). Then another Olympics 50 meter sprint got us into a local State Transport (ST). As the journey commenced, we strapped ourselves to the seats with what we had. The driver as we guessed seemed to be a Pro-F1 racer. It was like the bus’s engine had suddenly been replaced with that of a jet plane. The driver’s cut throat driving though the narrow by lanes of the intermittent villages without the use of brakes was exemplary. Thatched roofs, tiled huts, paddy fields, barren lands etc. all passed by like a gusty haze. An hour and half extreme speed bus ride brought us to Malvan Bus Depot. With our heart pounding against our ribs, we got down and got into an auto for “Deobaugh”. We were greeted by a few local dogs, who had a nice time barking at us. Then finally when they were bored, they left us alone on our way towards our staying place
Sreepad Lodge was where we had booked our stay. Through the walk-through between huts and tiled houses, we reached our staying location. Without keeping our bags inside the rooms, we ran towards the beach and into the Greenish-Blue cold water. The water was so clear that the visibility was clear up to 2-3 feet from above. I feel I have said enough… Now the remaining journey will be told by my forografs… “Adios”