Morii

That much needed break, breaking off the shackles of time, inhibition, bizarre apprehensions, and of old rusted methods… Something that I had to do for myself, for the sake of myself and my own love for solitude ― Here’s to a 20 year hiatus from bicycling. It has been a revival of sorts after the purchase of my all new Hero Miss India.

And then there had been this inner calling to sit on the beach and throw every single thought back to the ocean. The fact that I live in a city that has the second longest coastline in the world gives me chills that I haven’t really spent time on the beach the way I’ve always wanted to.

The bicycle returned to my life as a medium of independence and destroyer of fear. So I was told that the beach is close to where I stay, and that I should try riding up to the beach. Inner calling ― answered. The day was Sunday ― a bright summer morning already. No expectations, other than riding humbly to the beach.

My longest ride in all my life ― google maps say it’s 10.2kms from where I live. All sweaty and exhausted, with a thaw in my stomach, I realized I hadn’t carried water and was just surviving with the fresh taste of coffee lingering in my tongue. With curated music of Selena Gomez on Spotify, the ride seemed like a breeze. The result was nothing less than serendipity ― it was worth the effort. The sight I beheld was something that I had seen in Pinterest and Instagram pictures of places like Greece and France; not to mention the neighboring Pondicherry though, which still remains a distant dream waiting to be fulfilled.

A street full of bougainvillea, with a lovely canopy formation, leading to the ocean. This was still Chennai, and I was only a few kilometers away from home and I had rode my bicycle. I had to confirm for sure, so I ended up asking a passerby, does this street lead to the beach? It’s like pinching yourself to ensure it’s for real. Lo and behold, it was real!

Luckily, the beach wasn’t too populated unlike its other city counterparts. A couple of photographers, trying to get the best frame of the gleaming waves and the shining sun. Some fisherwomen selling their bounty for a Sunday lunch to their seafood loving customers. Some boys swimming in the beach, a couple of lovers here and there. A lone crow, jumping around as if it were learning to fly. Crabs and seashells. This isn’t my maiden visit to the beach, but for some reason it felt all new and energizing. I was feeling the morii effect — the desire to capture a fleeting moment. It's a time in which you least expected. A time in which that moment spontaneously confronts you, but there is nothing that you can do to preserve it. This is a word that appears in the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows compiled by John Koenig.

A mix of morii and déjà vu – a kind of oxymoronic feeling. That moment when you really wished if you could pause time and moments. Waves kissing the sands of time, glistening like never before. The only way I could capture all this was through pictures. A temporary satisfaction that I was able to click everything I wanted to, always.

The internet is loaded with images of the beach, Instagram selfies of people visiting the beach, of a variety of poses – their wet feet, their flip-flops kissed by the waves, of sand homes built by children, of seashells and of course the frothy waves. The borrowed wallpapers are never original and there’s always a plagiarized feeling although it’s completely legal to download beach themes and put them up on your phone or laptop.

There’s something never enough, you can never have enough of it ― that of the waves that never take rest. What if they paused for a minute to breathe? A gush of exciting emotions and questions all at once. The only thing I could do was throw them back into the ocean to see what was coming back, it didn’t have to be right then though.

 The beauty of the bougainvillea had to be stopped by and enjoyed. If you are too busy getting back to where you came from, you probably then are a machine. So I had to stop and be carefree. Carefree about my hunger and thirst, about my way back home, about having rode alone to the beach. Thanks to my phone, I needed pictures to preserve the moments. Fuchsia pink laden sides on the left and right – a certain treat to the senses, starting from the eye. Tall bougainvillea that towered all the way up to the sky.

Beauty that existed so close, convinced that this isn’t something as distant as it seemed all this while. It is very much doable. I rode back home, with salt on my lips and hair.

A glass of sugarcane juice helped cool down from the scorching 11am sun. In no time, the juice was downed through my throat. The juice seller wasn’t worried about me paying him back ― he wanted me to wipe the juice off my mouth. I smiled and thanked him.

Leaving you with some pictures. Thank you for reading.