By the Beach
Sometimes when we revisit our childhood, we realise that not only have we changed as individuals but also the places we used to visit as children have transformed like us- growing inside out!
Lost in a reverie of the past, I sauntered onto the lane leading to Corbyn’s Cove Beach. I remembered it as a place always swarming with life—a beloved tourist destination and a vibrant local getaway. It was June, and the cloudy monsoon sky normally signaled the peak season when families would flock here for a day out.
Yet today, after a couple of years away, though the cerulean sea beckoned me as beautifully as ever, I was startled to find the beach deserted. Walking further, my pace slowed as my flip-flops sank into the warm, soft sand. I scanned the shore. To my left, the usual sights were missing—no families sprawled on mats, no couples perched on the rocks, no local kids playing. The only sign of life was to the south-east, where a small group of retired friends sat at a distance, quietly sipping coconut water. I wondered what had driven everyone else away.
Feeling my legs grow weary, I remembered the old array of blue wooden loungers. I endeavored to walk up to them, longing to simply recline. Dipping into my memory pool, I could visualize my younger self running straight into the waves, feeling the comforting chill of the water overflow my feet before receding. Suddenly, an invigorating zephyr shook me from the memory.
I walked over to the old coral shops nestled under the shade of towering trees to inquire about the empty beach. The shopkeeper’s amicable appearance reassured me he would be ready to answer. But his eyes held a heavy, quiet sorrow. "A tsunami hit the coast a year ago," he said, his voice dropping. "It devastated everything." Pointing toward the bark of a tree that was still half-buried in sand, he continued, "Now the locals are grief-stricken. They seldom visit."
Smiling sympathetically at him, I turned back to the coast, determined to live in the moment and create a few new memories. I sat on the sand-choked bark of the tree; it felt rigid and sharp against my back, like sitting on an acupuncture chair. Yet, the wonder of nature lay in the bizarre shape the tsunami had left behind—the trunk looped overhead like a canopy, forming a deck reminiscent of a ship.
Looking out into the sea, the horizon gave me a profound sense of completeness. The harmonious sound of the waves crashing and returning with a soft hush soothed my nerves. To my far right, the land melted into the sea. While one side showed only the dense foliage of the distant trees, the weathered trunks of the coconut palms closer to me stood enchanted by the tide.
This picturesque view was enhanced by a canvas of colorful hues reflected in the water. Beneath an infinite blue sky, the golden sunbeams diffused behind a grey-white cloud, coaxing a brilliant rainbow to emerge from its edges. All its colors blended seamlessly, like a professional oil painting.
As the tide grew in height, I knew it was time to bid adieu. Just as the sun sets only to rise again the next day, I was leaving with the promise to return to the lap of Mother Nature. This scene will be embedded in my heart till infinity. Walking closer to the water one last time, the golden sand and white, frothing waves seemed to hug my feet, as though trying to hold me back. Reflecting on the tragedy, I realized that the hustle and bustle of humanity had been replaced by the pristine jurisdiction of the sea, allowing the elements to have their own way. The cerulean water now deepened into a dark cobalt blue. Feeling a gentle drizzle on my face, I welcomed the changing weather—nature’s own divine goodbye.