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Waves greet me in dreams often.Green-blue waves ,swishing,racing,spiralling.revealing the shells and revelling in rolling them back and forth across my happpy feet caressing them.It was thus I decided to go to Goa,from sealess Hyderabad where I pursue my degree. Reaching in Don Bosco,I set out in a cab the very next day to the Baina beach for the watersports. The cabdriver,John uncle, who came with us was about the age of my dad,and almost of the same temperament,and we bonded quick.He told me the stories of his driving around Goa with tourists for the last decade,and pointed out to me the places where he grew up playing football and catching fish. There was a certain warmth that spread outward from his tales.Till then,Goa was for me a happy land,partying all year around. But sitting in the front seat,listening to his life in the seashore pouring out generous from his contented face,I felt the presence of a lived land around me-.A real,lived in land,with the tales of loss-of sons lost to sea in midst of meals,of daughters lured and swallowed by the trecherous deeps while shell collecting; a shore so loved by its populace,that every fisherfolk moving out to town to educate their kids,leave back a lingering heartbreaking anguish in the waves,felt collectively by the remaining children of the sea. John uncle himself was one such man -who had to leave the waters' shade to shade his child from 'O the uncouth fisherman' stare. "You were a fisherman?"I blurted out ,in excitement. To me,nothing could have been a better profession-staying inside the waves,day in and day out. And he smiled,that piercingly sad smile of his,and said yes,he was not born a middle class cab diver,in the city villa he owns.He laughed a pained laugh-and left us at the Baina beach to explore the watersports. Inside the sea,in the scubadiving apparel,and on its surface,bobbing about in the life jacket,I loved every minute of it.While clambering upto the boat though,I was kind of disappointed to see everyone occupied with their phones in midst of such wonderful sea,brooding over corona,maybe.I longed to share my joy in the sea,and then saw that man near the other end,opposite to me.Standing on the edge of the boat,with a long mass of entangled hair and open arms,he looked like a human sail,billowing in the sea breeze. The look of complete abandon in his eyes was quite infectious,and me who was usually afraid about standing too near the front side of the boat approached it quite smoothly,spreading arms myself,and hair coming loose. He glanced sideways,saw in my eyes the silent thanksgiving for the inspiration,and turned back again,much like a satisfied drawing teacher seeing the progress of his student's work. I waved to him while we returned back to cab,but he was obviously blind to everything except the rolling green-blue water between his outspread arms then,and I fellt a tinge of hope in me-maybe..One day..With enough money and least care, I will buy a boat,and stand like this on its edge,with nothing but the sea and its frays beside and about me.No world judging me.No duties pulling me.One day.And thus I entered the cab,reached back hotel,biiding bye to John unncle,wishing he gets back to his sea. The next day,I set out again,this time by myself. Reached Calangutta beach.I changed to beach wear and lied down there in the sand,taking in the salty sweet sea,surprised to feel hot tears wetting my cheeks.I didnt expect to find myself in tears in beach-in Goa,not at all. I was supposed to jump and dance and race the waves,and there I was,crying on as if grieving the humanity's fate.And then,I heard the pained laugh of John uncle,and suddenly,the laugh stretched out itself in two arms,welcoming sea,his bald head morphing to an entangled mess,the warmth of his life passing on to the man i saw on the boat,living his life in sea in abandoned.Father's grief,mended through the Sun who returned to claim the joy that was theirs.And I sighed,wiping tears-"One day",I heard my heart say."One day,seaward shall travel my days.And I will be home again.