The Adventures of Kerriann: Agonda

Part 12 Agonda

Our move to Agonda was a simple affair. With bags packed we walked the 80m to the main walk through where upon half a dozen taxi drivers offered us their services. Our kind bike man also owned a taxi so we handed over 300 rupees while he supervised the loading of of our bags. We ate breakfast from a tiny stall selling chai and samosas while the last details of our transfer was arranged between owner and driver. Heads nodded, smiles beamed, hands were shaken as we were ushered on board for the five minute journey up the coast.

The road was now familiar and unlike us, our driver knew the shortest way to the village without the aid of experimental forays down unknown tracks. We turned confidently down the tarmacked road, turning right at the T junction at the end. We passed the now closed and shuttered shops, slowing as the wheels left the tarmac to engage with the dry red dust of the track. Wheels ground to a halt, bags were unloaded and soon we were marching between the huts to the beach.

The beach was quiet, the restaurant empty save for a lone Indian guy dozing on a chair. He nodded as I said we had come to stay in the tree house, closing his eyes as we climbed the steps to deposit our things.

The hammock was hung beneath the tree house taking advantage of the space and shade. Sarongs were draped along the balcony to air and add colour to our new home. A mattress was found as a bed for Peter and myself, the mosquito net was unpacked and hung.

Agonda beach is a huge wide sweeping beach that rises up along the sea edge to form a high ridge that then slides gently to the sea. When the tide is fully in the odd wave manages to flow over the ridge onto the beach behind but most of the time the waves lie hidden from view.

To the North a stream flows into a large lagoon that in turn empties into the sea via a narrow channel.

When the tide turns the flow reverses causing a current to pour, at first gently and then with incredible force back into the lagoon.

It was quickly discovered that if one threw oneself into the current, adopting a floating stance, one could be carried right to the far end of the lagoon without mishap. There the water was knee to thigh deep, allowing you to safely reach the shore only to race up the beach to do it again before the current got too frightening!

Home was quickly established, school work was done in the restaurant and the day passed in a haze of relaxation and peace.

Holi, or the Festival of Colours as it is sometimes called, is celebrated all over India. There are various stories associated with the Festival, some of Sikh origin others of Hindu. Some mention Prahlad as their main character, others mention Krsna but who ever is worshipped the main aim at the end of the week long celebration is to throw, and become covered with, the most vivid assortment of brightly coloured powders available.

Loud drumming, dancing and chanting is also involved and as we walked up the main street the next morning it was easy to find the hub of celebrations.

Clouds of colour hung in the air, people jumped high throwing huge handfuls of dust at each other. Cars and bikes came under assault as they eased their way past the crowd.

It is considered a blessing to be daubed with powder, the more powder you receive the greater your blessing.

I shared some of the fluorescent pink Holi powder I had with the eager hands around me and soon was throwing and receiving blessings from all around.

The drumming increased in tempo, the dancing became more frenzied until everyone was jumping on the spot, throwing and chanting, laughing and calling until a final burst of drums brought an end to that particular session of celebrations.

People sat down to rest while others popped into a nearby store to replenish their supply of powder. Water was passed around and a semi calmness descended. A calmness that held underlying currents of energy, of anticipation.

Within ten minutes the lead drummer was encouraging his troupe back on their feet and a slow rhythmic beat began. One by one the crowd reformed, new faces not yet coated with Holi powder joined others smothered from head to toe. The chanting commenced as the beat increased, the calling and answer routine becoming faster and faster until another round of frenzied dancing took hold of the crowd. Powder once more filled the sky, voices rose loudly in praise and celebration, drummers pounder their instruments as the festival took hold of the crowd once more.

Our bags were empty, the children were suitably covered and so we retired to the sea to paint the fishes pink, blue and green. Holi powder is easily washed off if it remains dry. Water, sweat and humidity allows it to seep into the pores and once dried onto the skin it takes a few days for the effects to wear off. The children remained Holi-ed for the next three days as did the smiling people around us.

We booked in for an extra night, put the Holi cleaned clothes on a line under the tree house to dry and watched the setting sun.

Agonda was beautiful with its quietness, in high season I am sure it becomes a lively place to party as Indians and Europeans seek out the sea and surf, but for now we had it nearly to ourselves. For now it was a place of rest and pleasure.