As a child I would sit for hours on the back landing of my aunt’s home in Mumbai and watch the tides come in and roll out again. I would watch the fishermen sing in unison as they heaved their heavy wooden boats out to sea or mended their nets on shore.
The lure of the sea has never left me. It is ironic I feel this way. A non-swimmer, I’m terrified of the power of water. Yet, the ocean is as soothing as mother, to me.I walked along the shore early morning in Exmouth. I was the only one on the beach. I usually like it that way. Every few steps, I stopped and watched the sea trying to figure out whether the tide was coming in or going out.I stood mesmerised by the grace of movement of this powerful ocean before me as it whooshed at my feet so elegantly.Leaving behind a bounty of coral, shells and smooth pebbles.
Then the ocean, this mother, drew breath, only to exhale again with delicacy. So I did the same.
Until next time
a dawn bird