Varkala beach, Saturday, the sun is almost setting and on the beach an eclectic mix of tourist, Indians and everything in between gathers to enjoy the last rays of sunshine, a refreshing splash in the waves or romantically watching the sun turning all shades of orange and dipping below the horizon. Lined by cliffs, this beach has an almost private feel. Secluded from the rest of the world.
Beach days, warm nights, cold beer, and delicious Keralan food. Our last days in the south of India are for relaxing, enjoying, reading, talking, and laughing. We are preparing ourselves for a few days in Delhi. My Delhi. Returning back, a feeling of coming home surprises me. I realize that I will miss this city and all it’s craziness; the good, the bad, and the ugly. My friend welcomes us with incredible spicy pav bhaji, and we are dancing to Bollywood songs until deep in the night.
The next morning we are blasting over an almost empty highway to the Taj Mahal. While the world is slowly warming up, we are getting closer to this magnificent symbol of love. Reminding us that love isn’t always practical, easy, or caught in words. Because if love would have been practical Shah Jahan would never have built the Taj Mahal*.