It is since four years I am watching the seashores and the beaches. I do not know why I started it all. Nevertheless, since the time I began my affair with the beach, it has been a long affair... a long affair still in progress. It is in sunny mornings that I cycle to beach. I have my own niche out there. In the initial days, I thought the beach suspected me. Then, slowly beach gave her heart to my whisperings and assurances.
Every sunny morning, beach is full of footprints. I watch the footprints and think of the thousands who had walked before me. For me, the primal attraction of these footprints is the thoughts of the past... of my own past. The beach seem to tell me to search the footprints of my grandparents, relatives, friends, and mentors... people who have walked before me. The beach seems to speak to me of our own past childhood times, adolescent companions and lost smiles. But then, soon, it is time... I walk my way leaving my own footprints on the sands. How will it be? What will be its readings? In fact, sometimes, I turn my head back to look at my footprints. Then I walk away to make the day...
The rainy beaches are different (like it was today). The rains always clean the past. They come gushing through the sky to fall everywhere, washing away the wrong doings. The beach after a rain is a bare beach...stripped off her footprints, sands offer us a chance to make fresh footprints... fresh starts to new walks of life. The beach after a rain is a wash over experience. It offers a new texture, feel and smell. Beach after a rain is a harbinger of a new start.
Let us welcome rain on the beaches.