This transmission is best enjoyed with Voices of India by Antique Beats Om
Three days after arriving in Agonda, our life rhythm had slowed down to a sleek amphibian crawl filled with sunlight, warmth, colours, aromas, breezes, and spicy flavours. No rush. The novel soundscape around us was a cacophony of crickets, crows, waves, and the gentle hum of village life. Acclimatized thus to our new ecological cocoon, we began our earnest exploration of India’s complex cultural shores.
“I don’t know what lies ahead,” I said to Bianca, “but I’m sure glad we started our journey in this relatively calm place.”
In the morning of our last full day in Agonda, we had breakfast at the restaurant shack with its magnificent view of the sea. It was business as usual for the ragged band of canines that kept a watchful eye on their piece of beach territory. Our intrepid guide from the previous day hung out by our table. Apparently, we were now his best buds.
Travel simplifies life to its bare essentials. Deprived of modern amenities, you have no choice but to learn to survive with what you have available in your immediate surroundings. A routine task like washing clothes becomes an epic undertaking. Thankfully, we had meticulously prepared all our gear for the trip, including a small bottle filled with Dr. Bronner’s magical hippy soap and a stylish paracord line to hang our clothes.
After the excitement of hanging up our undies to dry in the open-air bathroom, under the watchful eyes of noisy crows frolicking on the palm fronds, we headed to town with no particular plan except to get to know the patterns and rhythms of daily life. We soon realized that most of our interactions with locals would take place inside of shops.
Indian merchants take a more proactive approach at acquiring customers. Tourists can be a fickle lot, like minnows in the sea, so the sellers know how to lure them and gently coax them into a commercial partnership. It wasn’t long before we were sweet-talked into shopping mayhem.
“Good morning,” said a girl from one of the clothing shops. Long braided hair, she had almond-shaped eyes, cunning yet disarming with her radiant smile. “Come inside and take a look. You would be my first customers of the day. You bring me luck, and I bring you luck.”
The logic was flawless, and the sales-pitch delivery just right, so we entered her store, and she showed us her wares, speaking in smooth perfect English that she had learned by interacting with tourists. She also knew Russian because of the many Russian tourists that came into town, and she beamed with pride when she spoke a few Russian words, and we congratulated her for this impressive linguistic feat.
The girl moved through the racks and piles of clothes with lithe graceful ease.
“Those are so colorful!” Bianca remarked in appreciation.
The girl smiled and told us with earnest conviction that clothes have to be colorful, and not so drab like the fashion in some western cultures. Clothes, specially for women, should be vibrant and happy. She showed us a few items and with a conspiratorial wink, she said she would give us a “special” price. We chose a few items, and then she told us the special price.
Seeing a bit of hesitation on our part, the girl asked me to make her an offer. Surprised at this turn of events, I made her an offer. Then she made a counter-offer and looked at me with expectant eyes. I'm basically haggling with a child, I thought. So, putting my finger on my chin as if in deep thought, I looked at her out of the corner of my eye then agreed to take her offer. Her face beamed with a triumphant smile, and that’s how I knew that I had paid the special price.
Further down the road we came upon a pair of wily brothers at a jewelry store who welcomed us by offering us kava tea, which one of them said was traditionally shared among friends in India. While I am no imbiber of exotic drink, there had been a time when I explored mysterious plants and herbs from far away lands, so I was somewhat acquainted with the use of kava in the South Pacific for ceremonial and festive purposes.
We declined his kind offer.
“Would you like a beer?”
We thanked him for his hospitality, but given that it was still morning, we also declined the offer.
They proceeded to show us several pieces of jewelry and ornaments, then lay them in groups on the counter, based on whether we expressed interest, disinterest, or hesitation. One of the brothers was amiable and charismatic while the other was more of the engineer sort, and he concentrated on gathering the pieces while his brother did the talking. One after the other, the items came, and we sat there expressing a mixture of awe and wonder for each item was rather beautiful, and so the piles accumulated on the counter, and after about half an hour, I had run out of adjectives to express delight and had begun to wonder if I would actually need a cup of kava or a glass of beer.
At last, we settled on some items, and then the jeweler offered us a price, and thus began the haggling game. I made another offer, and he- with smiles and waves of hands and reassurances of long lasting friendship- tried to sweeten the deal by adding another item and making a new offer. Bianca and I used our currency exchange app to make calculations. I made a counter offer, and more smiles and hand-waving ensued, money did not mean anything, he told us, happiness was everything, he wanted us to be happy because if we were happy, he was happy, and so he jotted down numbers, back and forth all of us speaking in English, in Indian, or in Spanish, until our offers got ridiculously specific in what had really become a test of wills until finally we both had enough, the seller gave a price, put the items in a bag, and the sale was final.
Across the street, we were ushered into a Silk and Jewelry shop, where impeccably dressed salesmen greeted us and formally proceeded to show us their goods. An older gentleman explained that they dealt in the art and craft of pashmina- its use, production, history, and place of origin- they showed us some magnificent pieces brought from the North of India and handwoven by monks. We settled on some cushion covers with the motifs and patterns popular by craftsmen from the region.
So it went on until we had enough of shopping and haggling. With backpacks full of loot, we began making our back to the shack.
All around us, large stars hung from buildings, as it was common tradition during Christmas time. I was fascinated by the presence of the Christian faith in this region, accentuated by the Iberian architecture, like the cathedral where a wedding was currently underway. I could see the blend of different worlds, a marriage of convenience between two cultures that came together a long long time ago in Goa.
On our way back to our shack, a man standing by a white vehicle called out to us.
“Taxi, sir?”
We told him we didn’t need a taxi right away, but we would need one the following day because we were going to Calangute.
He looked around conspiratorially, then putting a toothpick between his lips, he said, “come.”
He began walking towards an empty lot with overgrown brambles. Bianca and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows. What should we do? Oh well. We followed him across the lot and down a grungy alley until we reached the back of a restaurant shack on the beach. Sitting by the cash register, there was an older gentleman counting money. The taxi driver spoke to him, and then the gentleman spoke to a lady behind the counter. They asked us a few questions about our plans and then gave us a quote. They wanted us to pay in advance, so we thanked them, and told them we would think about it and let them know once our plans were finalized.
We made our way back to the main road, where we found another taxi driver who was sharply dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt and black pants. A small golden crucifix dangled from his neck. After explaining where we wanted to go, he nodded cordially and told us how much it would cost, an amount much lower than the offer from the previous driver. So, we shook hands and arranged for him to pick us up the following morning. He did not ask for money in advance.
"I have a good feeling about him," I said to Bianca.
On the way we back, we stopped to admire a colorful cloth tapestry hanging on the front of a shop, when a girl came out and offered it to us for a certain amount. I made a counter offer, and she accepted it with a wide grin.
“That was quick and easy,” I said to Bianca.
“Did you get the special price?”
“Judging by her grin, I’m sure I did.”
We left our loot back in the shack and went to have lunch by the beach. Squid and prawns. Caramelized banana with ice cream. Heavenly in the afternoon heat beside the big blue.
It's banana time
Languid strolls along the sand. Sunsets in the sea, and horizons where hues morphed from yellow to purple and red. Our past lives were just a stream of sense impressions as if from a distant time and place. Here we were, agents from the cybernetic future, adrift beneath a Goan sky. Agonda had been a perfect landing pad four our undefined mission, but I was already looking forward to our next destination.
In the evening, we dined and wined on the beach, at a restaurant where they had placed tables and chairs on the sand. They had also set up a BBQ grill, and a table full of seafood- squids, oysters, lobsters, fish, and even an entire shark.
“What would you like for dinner?” said the young guy behind the table. He wore a chef’s outfit including the hat and was busy grilling the seafood with a variety of spices.
I looked at Bianca.
“Would you like some shark?” I said.
Her eyes widened.
“I don’t think so,” she said giving me a sideways glance. “I’ll have the prawns instead.”
“And I’ll have the lobster,” I said eyeing the shark and resisting the temptation to give it a poke.
We sat by the beach drinking wine, listening to the waves, and enjoying a light conversation about the finer points of species at risk. Did you know scientists estimate that approximately 99% of all species that have existed on earth have gone extinct? Poof! Disappeared from the face of the Earth.
“Mother nature is ruthless,” I mused philosophically. “Just imagine how many delicious species we could’ve enjoyed.”
Bianca rolled her eyes and sipped her wine.
The shark was placed on a long table nearby for a group of western tourists. Their children watched in fascination as they laid out the creature on a tray. The women stared at the smoking animal with some trepidation. The men cut it up.
Our dishes of prawns and lobster looked puny in comparison, but mixed with masala and other formidable spices, they were delicious.
The breeze blew from the sea and cooled the warm evening.
As night fell, the children dug holes in the sand, got into fights, and ended up crying. The adults drank, laughed, and tried to ignore their rambunctious children.
An older tourist showed up wearing robes and a headlamp around his forehead; he began looking for something in the dark and soon everyone was looking under chairs and tables.
A few vendors then arrived with offers of arts, crafts, and glowing sticks.
The children kept shouting, fighting, and digging large holes in the sand. Laughter and chatter. Music.
Waves crashed on the shore.
Above us, the stars shimmered.
“Here’s to our last night in Agonda,” I said raising my glass.
“Cheers to Agonda!” said Bianca.
Dive into another section:
1.1, 1.2, 1.3, 1.4, 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 2.4, 3
Images and video by @litguru