The lonely Fisherman’s cove

I wouldn’t recommend this to everyone.
… Not everyone is ready for Heaven ;)

But if you’re among the tribe of Joseph who likes your beaches deserted…then you’re in for a bit of paradise here… This place is straight out of a soporific dream.



Crystal clear water lapping the sands breaks the silence…
Float like a dead log in the water…Hear the ocean in your ears…
Walk for miles and not see a single soul on the horizon…
Its the place for some lonesome reflection…some running away in your head…

If that sounds like the place you’d want to wake up in… You’ll find Bengre Beach, tucked into an unknown corner of Costal Karnataka to be a bit of absolute rapture. Buried along the Mangalore beach line, nestled in calm neglect and isolation- it’s exactly how a beach should be.

Getting there is no problemo – it never is - anywhere in small town Karnataka which, according to me, has the world’s best public transport and networking.

Get a on a bus from Udupi…and ask for Hoode-Bengre beach, then sit back and let the little open-windowed bus rattle you through the most charming towns in the whole world – clear channels of rain water running under the bridges, a smell of fish in the air mingled with salty sea breeze… rattle along the coconut tree lined town roads.

Suddenly, the engine goes off, tyres whistle and the local junta clambers down and disappers. So you get down doubtfully and then...you'll see why it had to stop like this - what you see is a view you'll remember for a while to come.

The road ahead doesn’t exist – ahead the land stops and you'll see a lonely beach shining in the sunlight…heaving and glinting between the coconut glades.

The usual reaction is to …RUN …yelling like a lunatic till you’re neck deep in the warm water, somersaulting in the waves…gasping in the crisp water without a CARE IN THE WORLD!! A few locals will look at you like you’re mad but heck. When you’re on cloud nine and climbing… you don’t really care.

Dolphins are quite common if you stare long enough into the deep.

Take a small walk and you’ll find the miracle doesn’t end here – a short road separates the beach from a river. The road walks through a picturesque village and ends with the Ocean and the River meeting.

Clamber on a pile of sandstone and watch the sun set. You’re done. Sold. For life.

When the Thunder Dragon beckons…

It was one of those dreamy afternoons when time takes a break. There was nothing to do but sit out on faded red Nilkamal chairs at the local chai shop and talk big small talk…

We were in the middle of a healthy mid afternoon flight of fantasy – taking off to Bhutan and then traveling by road to the rest of the world, teaching English to the locals. Not the best plan, yes…but like the ancient adage says: “When perched on Nilkamal chairs, the best thing is to abandon all reason”.

With abandon we proceeded.
And got Nowhere.

Which was fine by us…But what with the Universe conspiring to make you achieve the pointless… in less then a month after we had the Teach-Locals-English-Fund-World-Tour conversation, we were actually taking off to Bhutan. Just like that…

From chai shop in the sunlight to the Land of the Thunder Dragon, hidden among the mountains, known to be one of the most isolated nations in the world in less than 30 days… in financial dire straits… to an unknown country…in the middle of a cruel winter.

That's one of the best things about being broke…you have no choice but to be fearless.

The Great Indian railway was the chosen mode of transport – to cut across the country in Gandhi class - across the land on rail, chugging along rivers and states…

12-noon reading a book on the topmost berth…
8 pm squatting on the door, watching villages flash past…
3 am in a compartment, freezing to death…

7 days later. Here I was, crossing the border town into Druk-land and my city blood conditioned to the loud and crass - just died in my veins.

It’s a Royal kingdom in every sense of the word – upright, charmingly simple. There is a stillness abound – like a gong for prayer has just been sounded. Surrounded by mountains with shining snow and large colorful monasteries rising at the skyline. Gently elegant/proud but friendly – Bhutan is like the Mountains that surround it.
Every structure - from hotels to theatre halls, homes and shops lining the streets have dragons and Buddhist motifs staring at you from the stark-white wood-lined walls. Lines and lines of vibrant prayer flags pepper the mountainous roads, chanting in the cold wind…

And here comes the reccos - useful if you want some random insights :)

If you’re an Indian citizen, all you need is a driver’s license to a permit to visit Bhutan. One of the many perks of the (debated) Aryan lineage! And make sure you carry your permit with you wherever you go. They check it. Everywhere.

To get a whiff of that untouched – get your hands on the ‘weekly’ newspaper. It has news about India. Only. Nothing much else happens to report. No robberies, no bomb blasts, no page 3 idiots, random coups and pointless editorials. Refreshing!

And beat this – there are no traffic signs in the Capital city. Just that occasional Lamborghini or a Land Rover driven by a Bhutanese who thinks its no big deal.

Try the alcohol – its dirt cheap and fantastic. ‘Apple cider’ spiked with rum, ‘Hit beer’ is high on my list ;)

Check out the Dzongs, they are fortified monasteries that used to house warrior monks. Make sure you get a special permit to visit them… making bambi eyes at the guards doesn’t work. I tried. And failed.

The brilliant blue skies makes for excellent photography.

Drink Hit beer and don’t move much. Soak it all in. Then move on…to another spot.

The Thunder Dragon likes you to take it easy.

Nirvana, anyone? Try travel. Its the closest thing.

Travel – there’s just some thing about it that’s indescribable.

Here’s a bad try:
A sense of taste that’s tasting the air – atmosphere …tired feet, a cut of the backpack on your shoulders – fleeting images pass by, nothing recording ...catching them just at the periphery of my vision…it doesn’t matter…nothing does… I’m glad for everything – a composition that’s whimsical. Whiff of masala tea and cigarettes in a haze around my head...from the last stop in a hippie café..
Oh well…its indescribable.

Another bad try. Shorter this time, though:
It’s a state of complete acceptance and happiness that’s perfect – dependent on nothing but just BEING. The continuum blows my mind.

Oh that sucks harder…. Now on to more constructive rambling…

Guess one of my favorite pointless travel locales will have to be Varanasi… The Eternal City of India, located on the banks of the Ganges. I love this city of holy men, musicians, silk saris, poets, tourists and seekers of Nirvana.

Imagine a city that is founded by an insane Sex-Drugs-Rock n Roll propounding God - the God of Destruction, Shiva – and open your eyes in Varanasi and its right there : just what you imagined. Picture perfect.

Ganga, Ghats and ganja…just walking in the sun, through little cobbled roads speckled with psychedelic shiva cafes, rubbing shoulders with Aghori babas and pot smoking saints, dead people and the not so occasional cow – old men playing chess on the side walks and some fantabulously amazing street food.

Really…. what more can you ask for…my hippie blood was baying that it had come home. Finally.


Recommendations...if any of you are in the mood for some generic gyaan:

A trip to the burning ghats (Manikarnika) is super-surreal. The smoke lifts off the burning body and mingles with the air you're breathing...and suddenly all distinctions start to blur... at that point, step aside and and you tell yourself, 'Welcome to Varanasi'.

I recommend the boat ride to anyone – anytime of the day, anytime of the night. Early and late and don’t miss it during the Ganga aarti.

The café overlooking the Assi ghat ..where time just endless floats between some truly amazing hot apple pie topped with cold ice-cream… don’t miss that either.

Stay? Go for the guesthouses… I recommend Sindhia Guesthouse…lovely collection of books, lovely ganga view, great food and clean rooms.

Make sure you take good solid shoes and WALK. Everywhere. Or take the rickshaw. Or the boat. Or preferably…do all three.

Don’t forget your camera …more than 3 days off…and an open mind…that way its ready to be blown.