RED DAWN

The bus finally wound into Mappusa and I reached the beach at Arjuna shortly before noon. After a shower and a sleep I felt better about life.

The ringing in my right ear had stopped and I walked down to the beach and swam in the Arabian Sea for the first time. The water felt unnaturally warm.

After an hour I walked up to one of the restaurants which stand on concrete footings just above the high-water mark and ordered a beer. I watched the ochre gold of the sun punch its way through the grey brown haze of pollution which sits permanently on the Indian horizon. The breeze, which had been cloying and humid all afternoon grew suddenly cool.

The sun, which had moments earlier falling sluggishly into the Arabian Sea, disappeared and a deep green gloom fell across the beach. The wind, blowing from the west now, smoothed out the waves and huge gusts ruffled the tablecloths and blew out the candles. The waiters politely ordered their guests up under the pagoda.

The blue sky above disappeared behind a massive bank of black clouds and the sound of thunder rumbled from the landward side of the beach. The wind shifted south and the first drops fell viscous and heavy, landing on the tyles of the restaurant floor like tea-spoons of clotted cream falling on kitchen linoleum. The first flashes of lightning lit up the sky and, as if to signal the downpour, a huge peal of thunder echoed across the beach and the rain began to fall. Rain like grapeshot peppered the ocean, wickedly churning up the livid green sea. The pagoda began to leak just as the wind shifted west again, driving the rain under the shelter, which was open on all sides to the elements, drenching the guests.

Fork lightning light up the darkness, striking at the tankers dotted along the horizon. The rain fell ceaselessly and hard, driven to the ground by the swirling fury of the wind. The power failed and the lights went out.

I sat there in the moist green gloom for more than an hour drinking beer and talking to the other tourists who were trapped there just like me. The wind, the rain and the lightning undulated in intensity but never fell to a level were any of us felt confident enough to make a dash for our rooms. Darkness enveloped everything and then, after a final show of violent fury the rain stopped and the wind died, just as suddenly as it had begun.

I have never seen a storm to match it in intensity and as I waded gingerly back to my guesthouse, ankle deep in the red-soil mud of India and soaked to my skin I was childishly, stupidly happy that I'd seen it.

The next morning I woke early and decided to walk the five kilometers around the headland to the next beach along the coast. It was humid despite the early hour so I took off my t-shirt and stuffed it into my backpack. There were already a few signs of life as I walked along the first stretch of beach. The fruit sellers in the colourful saris were picking their way between the beach-huts offering fresh pineapple and mango to the people setting out an early stake on the sunbeds. One girl in purple approached me, her basket of fruit balanced expertly on her tiny head. "Coconut sir?" she said with a coy little arched eyebrow. "Lovely jubely!"

I let out a little laugh and said no thanks. She smiled. "You are English sir?"

"No, Australian" I replied.

"Oh." She said looking confused. "You are very white."

"Yes" I said.

"Okay." She said. She seemed happy to go along with what was so obviously a fiction provided we both knew I was lying.

I spent the next hour scrambling over rocks and paddling through the shallows around the headland only to discover the other beach was occupied exclusively by English tourists, who in the main were as equally white as I, slowly roasting themselves on sun beds, while waiters scurried about serving them beer and chips. 'Fry on you pasty fools' I thought.

I decided to stay only long enough to buy a bottle of water before heading back. The tide had risen fast and the going was significantly more precarious. About half way back I decided discretion was the better part of valor and clambered up the bank to take the cross country route back to Anjuna. It took significantly longer than I'd planned and by the time I'd returned the Boots sunscreen I'd applied that morning had been sweated off my and the prickly heat of sunburn began to tingle on my stomach and shoulders. I cursed my stupidity.

As I trudged back along the beach to my guesthouse I came across the same fruit seller I had met in the morning. She smiled; "Good afternoon sir." She said.

"Hello" I replied.

"How are you?" she said, looking me up and down.

"Good" I said.

"Would you like a coconut?"

"No thank you."

"Okay." She said, and then after a pause; "You are not white any more sir."

"Yes, I know." I said.

"You are a very red man now, sir." She said.

"Yes." I said.

"Okay." She said and walked away