Monsoon emoirs

Jude Cardozo revisits some of his old haunts in Goa, which he claims is the perfect weekend getaway in Southwest India

Dudhsagar Waterfalls, Baradi hillock

As the plane began its descent at Dabolim Airport, the familiar landscape of thickly forested hills, lush green fields and the sand kissed expanse of blue in the distance emerge from the blanket of dark clouds. The closer it gets to touch down, the more pronounced the ache in my abdomen gets, after all I am returning to Goa, after more than six years of being away in Mumbai.

It is June and the monsoon has just made its appearance. 'Go Goa 365 Days a Year,' may be the catch phrase and marketing mantra of the state, but for a Goan, the land of sun, surf and sand is most beautiful during the rains. Besides the clean air and lush green landscape, tourists are attracted to experience the monsoon magic by the fantastic packages offered by hotels at half the seasonal rates.

As I drive home to Margao from the airport, long forgotten memories rush back - 'Is the 'Choris Pao' shop at Agacaim still around?'. I take a detour at the Zuari Bridge and slow down the taxi as we reach the other side of the bridge and lo! there it is - the 'Choris Pao' shop. Still the same since my college days, when it was a compulsory stop whenever we made the trip to Panjim.

The cabbie can wait; home, still 15 kilometres away, can also wait as I step into the shop and help myself to the tastiest Goan fast food - pork sausages sandwiched in a 'bakri' which is a type of Goan bread. "It's been too long," I keep repeating, as I devour what is best described as a 'slice of Goa' and it's absolutely finger-licking. The 'pork sausages' stopover only fuelled my desire to walk down memory lane and even before I reached home I had chalked out a plan to revisit all the beautiful spots I loved in the next six days before I signed up at my new job.

The hinterland of Goa dotted with undulating thickly forested hills are a nature lover's paradise. I escape to the jungles of Sanguem taluka and pick up a guide from Mangal village, 40 minutes drive from Margao. Luck is with me as I spot a bison, some deers and nearly 100 monkeys as we trek through the jungles to the peak of a hill.

It's hot and after a while the climb leaves me panting and wishing for rain. As if on cue the heavens open up and down come the rains, cooling us off but drenching the tracks. By the time we are on top the sun has come out again and the never-ending vista of a thick canopy of green glistening in the sunlight is a mesmerising sight. The view and the dip in the ice cold waterfall at the end of the trek made it worth the effort. And the isolation is a sheer pleasure after the hustle and bustle of Mumbai.

A tourist spot, but undoubtedly one of the most picturesque of places and an absolute must-see in the monsoon is Dudhsagar Waterfalls. The cascading falls crashing down 603 metres has a cloudy-milky appearance and is an awesome sight. The best way to go there is to take the morning train at 8 from Margao Station to Kolem and the train at 5.15 pm gets you back. A 45-minute trip through picture post card villages sets you up for the day.

Jeeps from the station can be hired to reach as close as possible to the falls and then a short walk through the jungle and you reach it. The visit revived memories of many day-long picnics spent frolicking in the streams gushing down from the falls. Formerly, when the Goa-Mumbai train trip was through Belgaum and Miraj, trains used to make a halt for ten minutes at Dudhsagar so that people could enjoy the majestic view and get drenched in the spray.

Monsoon is also a good time to visit one of the famous spice plantations in Savoi, in Phonda Taluka. A 45-minute drive through dense jungles in the hills from Phonda and I am in spice country. The entrance charged currently is Rs 300, which includes a coconut water drink and a fruit platter. The plantation is filled with fruit trees like guava, jackfruit, mango, starfruit, grape, gherkin, betel nut, custard apple, pineapple, cashew, chickoo and spices like cinnamon, cardamom, black pepper, nutmeg, ginger, garlic, turmeric, coriander, curry leaves. The walk around the hilly terrain is both a heady aromatic and a soothing experience.

Equally enchanting is taking an hour-long evening cruise along the Mandovi River from Panjim. Right on cue as we board the boat the rain starts coming down again. But there is no dampening of spirits as the folk dancers and the band soon have everyone on their feet dancing. We pass the Old Goan secretariat nicely lit up. The Marriott hotel too looks impressive from the river. One hour seems to pass in no time and I'm off to board another boat - Caravela, the floating casino. At Rs 1,000 per person it seems like a good deal with dinner and drinks on the house thrown in. Black Jack, Roulette and Poker wins me no money but the experience of dancing in the rain is fun.

Centre of activity and revelry, Goan beaches in the monsoon present a forlorn picture. The calm and inviting blue sea metamorphoses into a turbulent grey, an intimidating yet enchanting sight. In a more contemplative mood I head out to Canacona, 38 kilometres from Margao, the southernmost part of Goa, to explore strips of sand, many of them virgin, tucked away amidst thick forest or hills. My first stop is Talpona, a small fishing village with a virgin beach. The beach stretch is shared with Galgibaga village and the serenity pervading there is worth the long drive. It is also a great place for some serious monkey watching as almost 100 wild monkeys have taken up residence atop a small hill overlooking the sea.

Next on the beach hopping list is Patnem where I stop at a beach shack called Oasis. Beers and prawns with kingfish make for an interesting lunch as I watch wave after wave crash on to the shore against the backdrop of rain. Palolem, a beautiful beach forming a semi-lagoon, is rising fast on the 'beach' popularity charts but in the monsoon it still retains its earlier secluded feel. Agonda Beach is yet another virgin strip and a great picnic spot. Unlike Calangute and Baga in the north, which are bustling with commercialisation and busloads of people from all over, beaches down south offer a modicum of isolation.

Cabe de Rama Fort, on the way back to Margao, is yet another beautiful spot and watching the swelling seas from the ramparts of the fort is a heady experience. On the sixth and final day I decide to go to my grandfather's house in Betul, a small village on the confluence of the River Sal and the sea, 17 kilometres down south from Margao. The journey begins on a good note as it's pouring cats and dogs with a few pigs thrown in. Betul is a typical Goan village, where life crawls by at snail's pace.

The only sign of activity I encounter besides locals sipping feni at the bar is a group of men huddled under a shed on the road immersed in a game of Tablani, played mostly by the working class in the villages to while away time as they wait for the next assignment. Each player gets an opportunity to roll the dice, in this case four sticks six inches in length with a X marked on one side. The sticks are tossed three times in the air and caught and on the fourth toss they are allowed to fall on the ground. The number of X face up tell you the points that you have scored. This game involves a lot of gambling and the choicest of Konkani expletives fly around keeping time to the beating rain.

Wandering the narrow lanes dotted with coconut groves and small lakes, I am besieged with a host of childhood memories of chasing frogs in the paddy fields, being shoved unceremoniously in the well by grandad with empty coconut shells tied around the waist to teach us swimming and coughing deliberately to get a dose of grandma's 'cure all' medicine, kaju feni, burnt and then mixed with hot water and sugar. Despite my forays over the past five days to reacquaint myself with my roots, it is in Betul as I sit staring out at the expanse of green stretching out to the sea from atop Baradi hillock, the highest point in the village, that I get into the groove of Goa's susegad (laidback) culture. So what if I have to start work the next day!