Our trips to Goa began in the early 80s. Summer holidays were spent driving from Hyderabad to Goa with Papa in his Maruti van. We went to the same hotel, stayed in the same rooms, and spent our weeks between the pool and the beach with several coconut waters to break up the day. Post-childhood trips didn’t stray much from this formula, until now.
My last trip to Goa, a few weeks ago, involved a cursory walk on the beach and only one dip in a pool. A Goa of monsoon and the Mandovi, and villages lush with lazy; it was a Goa I never imagined I would experience. And now, the only kind of Goa I want to visit.
My generous host left no King’s bottle unopened to make sure we experienced the real susegad life. When we could bear to tear ourselves away from rain-watching on his verandah, there were Friday nights at Cavala, breakfast at Baba au Rhum, Saturday dancing at Cohiba, fish thalis at Anand Restaurant & Bar, and an explosive lunch at Gunpowder.
Located on a meandering street in the picturesque village of Assagao, Gunpowder’s kitchen serves coastal food from Goa, Kerala, Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh, in a stately Portuguese home saved from ugly redevelopment. A Delhi restauranteur gave up the city in favour of laid back living; and the result is most delicious. Sharing the home with an ethical and fair trade boutique (People Tree) and several dogs, Gunpowder’s food is often fiery, partial to coconut, and always excellent. Unlike most Goan restaurants the vegetarian options are plentiful and not restricted to mushroom and paneer.
We ate for hours, then sat around for a few more, intoxicated by the breeze blowing through the open courtyard, or perhaps it was just the Goan spirit…
The superhit dish of the day was surprisingly, potatoes and generous chef Jaan Gohain didn’t hesitate a moment before sharing the recipe with me!
Having just rid myself of a shell fish allergy, I enjoyed the juicy prawn masala immensely.
When in Goa, eat choriz.
I Instagrammed these photos a few weeks ago and as always was surprised at how easily smart phones and their never ending supply of apps have made a Henri Cartier-Bresson of the most undeserving of us. A moody choice between Amaro and Lo-Fi, depth of field inserted with a tap on the screen, and I can turn the most ordinary bowl of bhel into a 100-like worthy piece of envy. I’ve learnt to drench my world in filters to alter every mood, drowning out reality with the push of a button. Filters have become my friend and I wonder, are photographs all I use them on?
Then comes along a near-full moon to save me from myself. The night arrives unannounced, at the end of a spectacularly ordinary day, and burns away with the next morning’s sunrise. I rush to shoot the moon, only to have him look back at me, untouched.
These nights are reminders – of midnight kisses real and imagined, of promises never made. But mostly they are a reminder that its time to experience life without the filter of expectations. Its time to love life #nofilter.