letters to nobody #6: epiphany

darling nobody,

the homesickness eventually wanes away, clearing the way for what will be one of the best weekends of my life.

it begins with my weekend host mom taking me to a beach- my first beach in cancun. it’s infested with tourists, crowded and commercial- a huge rubber parrot with mexico written all over it, jolly roger cruise ship for kids, rows of shops full of souvenirs- but that doesn’t make it any less beautiful in my eyes. the water is clear, blue, the sand is white, and the sea is everywhere. i don’t own a swimsuit yet, so i cannot go deep into the water, but i’m still happy, unable to hold back a smile. i haven’t seen any places in the past two weeks, and for now, anything will do.

i roll up my jeans and step into the water, loving the coolness of it on a hot, hot day. i try to forget everything around me- i’m practising the art of living in the moment- and i do, for some time. for some time, it’s just me and the feel of cold water against my skin. i don’t stay in the sea for long- we have other places to be- but it’s still the highlight of my day.

until then.

what i don’t know is that even this beautiful moment will be nothing compared to the weekend i’m about to have.

my host mom buys me a swimsuit- colourful with pretty patterns, i love it instantly- and we get into the car again, communicating in broken spanish and english.

i’m taking you to another beach, she tells me, this one is private, and bigger.

my heart rate rises.

the other beach is beautiful. there are practically no people, and it’s understandable- the sun is burning, the heat almost unbearable. the sand is hot when i take off my shoes, and i run to the sea on the tip of my toes. the water is just as beautiful to me as it was before- i don’t think i will ever tire of it. i stand in the water for a few minutes, chasing the waves and running from them. i feel freer than i have in a long, long time.

this beach is also where i see sargazo for the first time.

sargazo, or algae, has been a huge problem in mexico for the past few years. it is brown in colour, and comes from brazil, ending up somehow on the shores of mexico. the clear, blue water-you can see through it, right down to the bottom- is made brown and unclear because of sargazo, causing major harm to the tourism industry. at every beach, there are volunteers who clean up the sea every day, stacking up piles of sargazo on the shore to make the sea clear again. my weekend host sister later tells me that despite growing up in cancun, she has never seen sargazo before the last few years. the sargazo problem started, and is increasing, she says, because of global warming, and it worries everyone. it makes me sad and angry, how humans harm the environment without stopping, even after realizing the consequences of it. man is selfish.

i hope i can volunteer to help clean up the sea soon. i owe it to the earth, and to mexico.

+

we drive for about an hour after this, and i try my best to stay awake: staring out of the window for any new sights. i have missed my long drives. we pass tons of grand hotels, and a huge bluish-grey lagoon- i gasp when i read that it is full of crocodiles. eventually though, i cannot fight my closing eyelids for any longer, and i drift off to sleep.

+

we reach my weekend home in puerto morelos- there’s a lot of pastel blue, i love pastel blue- but leave again after i change into my shorts. this time, we go to a beach that’s ten minutes away from here. there are still rows of shops with souvenirs for tourists, but this beach is entirely empty. it’s the sargazo, my host mom tells me as we walk into a restaurant. this is where i meet, for the first time, my weekend host mom’s ex-husband, someone she is very close to, and someone i instantly like. we sit in the restaurant, by the sea, and i eat guacamole for the first time while talking about everything under the sun- india, cenotes, the existence of god, tourist destinations, food- everything. in the background, a harp plays traditional mexican music. the restaurant, i learn, belongs to a cousin of my host mom. i am delighted- a restaurant right by the beach! after i finish eating, i decide to go and lie down by the sea, reading a book. it takes about twenty minutes for me to doze off again.  

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i wake up to my host mom taking a picture of me sleeping, and we both burst out laughing. we decide to take a walk by the sea and she asks me about india.

well, there’s no elephants on the streets, i say, grinning.

she chuckles, it’s like how everyone thinks that the people in mexico all live in big farms, wear sombreros and ride their horses everywhere.

i laugh, nodding.

someone gets it.

+

we go to tulum the next morning. it has the mayan ruins, and the ocean, visible from the edge of a cliff. the first part of it is for tourists- souvenirs, skeleton mannequins to take pictures with, rides to book, food to buy. there are people dressed as mayans that we can pay to get photos with. there is also a traditional mayan ritual being displayed, with four men tied to a long pole by their feet, spinning high up in the air in circles, as another man plays the flute.

we get tickets and walk inside- there are trees on both sides, we’re in the middle of a jungle. there are raccoons. two raccoons chasing each other, and i want to play with them, but i’m told that they’re dangerous if you touch them. i leave them behind regretfully, and we begin to walk towards the mayan ruins.

an iguana is the first thing i see on entering the ruins. it stands still under the sun, unaffected by the people surrounding it.

is it real, i ask my host mom, eyes wide. she nods with a laugh. it looks like a statue, i say.

it’s a small mayan town. houses, temples and buildings for the nobility.

a house is the first in the street, and my heart speeds up as my eyes fall upon the famed mayan ruins for the first time. it’s stone, and it looks strong- which it is, i remind myself, if it’s survived for this long. we’re not allowed inside the house but i can see the hall, and the walls dividing the rooms.

the mayans buried the dead in their houses itself, my host father tells me, there’s probably skeletons in there.

a shiver runs down my spine.

the temple, i decide, is my favourite building in the ruins. it is intricately carved with the face of a goddess carved on every outer corner of the building. there is one storey. i imagine being inside the temple, suddenly transported to years ago, bowing my head as i watch the world change around me. i’m not religious but i am not above being fascinated.

we stay in the mayan ruins for over an hour, walking around, exploring, comparing it to indian architecture- i have never been happier. it already feels like my life is different. i have adored historical civilizations for as long as i remember, and seeing where they were born is always a privilege. i don’t miss reading a single board that explains the civilization- lapping up every bit of information i get. i don’t want this to end- ever- but it does, of course. we reach the edge of the cliff- the cliff that overlooks the beautiful beach- and that’s the end of the mayan ruins.

the water here is also unclear, stacks of sargazo on the shore- there are barely any people- but i am so eager to swim, that it still looks inviting to me.

can we swim here, i ask my host father, and he smiles in reply.

you want to swim here? he asks, we were thinking of taking you to a cenote.

+

cenotes. the sacred house of god. the mayans called them ts’onot, and the word was tweaked by the spanish when they colonized mexico.

the cenotes have been on the top of my list of places to visit since i arrived in mexico. they are small, natural, still water bodies- sinkholes- often inside caves, with clear blue water that reflects the sun’s light. the water is usually freezing cold in contrast to the heat of the sun. there are four types of cenotes: open cenotes, semi-open cenotes, cavern cenotes and underground cenotes.

the cenotes were the main reason i was in mexico, the place i cared about the most.

and i was finally in one.

it did not disappoint.

i swam for the first time in years in cenote cristalino and realized that this was all the peace i’d been missing in my life. it’s hard getting into the cold water and my brain kept warning me not to, but i had to take the leap- take a deep breath and jump into the cold water until it doesn’t feel as cold. tiny fish are everywhere, and if you stay in one place for too long, they gather around your feet to eat your dead cells.

you have to pay for this in the spa, my host dad says, it’s completely free here.

i mostly float around the cenote on my back, trying not to think and letting my senses take me over.

at one point, i can’t move backwards for some reason and am confused before i realized i’ve crashed into a man. it’s funny, and we both laugh it away.

the water of the cenote leads to a cave, and i can’t even look inside the cave for too long because it gives me chills. funnily, i actually have a fear of open waters- i can’t imagine swimming in lakes and seas, especially if the water isn’t clear. the water in the cenote is clear, but the cave is dark and brings all my fears to the brim. my host parents, however, decide to explore the cave. i follow them and when i realize they’re swimming inside the cave, i hover around nervously.

come on, my host father says, the crocodiles here won’t do anything.

logically, of course, i know there are no crocodiles there. but the darkness of the cave, combined with the rocks (that are perfect for crocodiles to sit on) make me hesitate.

in the end, after some more convincing from my parents, i swim into the cave, still sceptical and on edge. we find a huge rock that’s not slippery and end up sitting on it.

i prefer the outside, i tell my host parents, it’s too dark and quiet in here.

my host father tells me to close my eyes, and i obey. instantly, it’s better. i cannot feel the darkness when i cannot see it. the silence is suddenly comforting.

see? my host father says, the problem is not the place, it’s your eyes.

we stay in the cenote for almost two hours, and i miss it as soon as i’m outside. in the next few days, i will crave swimming, and the prospect of swimming again will be the only thought that keeps me going- but i don’t know this yet. for now, all i know is that i’m exhausted- but it’s a happy, content kind of exhausted, something i haven’t felt in years.

+

sunday is my last day with my weekend family, and i’m dreading the end of the weekend. going to school, spanish classes, staying at home on my phone- it all feels like a different time, but it was just two days ago. in a way, it feels like this weekend will never end, and i don’t want it to. this is the first time i realize how much i love travelling, and that i would like to spend my whole life exploring. it’s the only way i can live in the moment.

as a child, i always hated going on holidays- i’d end up severely homesick and counting down the days till i’m home. looking back, i don’t understand why i hated going to new places and learning more about life. ironically, it’s the only thing making me happy today.

my host sister and i take the bus to playa del carmen that day. for once, i don’t sleep while travelling. playa del carmen is a city, mostly famous for it’s street shopping- a street that imitates fifth avenue in new york. we walk for hours- i eat my first churro, filled with vanilla, it’s delicious and i love it. i don’t buy anything else- we just walk around taking pictures. i see an a ganapati idol outside a shop, and my eyes flicker past it, without realizing what it is. then, my brain processes that i just saw a ganapati idol in mexico and i freeze. it’s an indian shop, i realize, and that’s why it’s here. it’s strange to see Ganapati here in mexico, but at the same time, it feels completely normal, barely noticeable. there are times when it feels like i’m still in mumbai, the ganapati idols are everywhere, and it’s no rarity. playa del carmen is fun- especially when i finally eat a veg burger- but it’s nothing like yesterday. i realize again, that i prefer the peace and quiet to the hustle-bustle of the city. i’m happy i’m connecting with nature again, after years of being distant from it.

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i go back home that evening, with my weekend host sister and her cousins. on the way back, i have an idea, an epiphany: i can roll down the window. it’s been years since i’ve rolled down the windows. i love the air conditioner way too much. and so, i roll down the window and the smallest action makes a big difference. i feel the strong wind on my face, smile, and let go of each and every thought that i have. there’s no space in my brain to think, it’s full of the sound of the wind.

i remember all the books where the characters roll down their windows and feel the wind in their face- i thought they were cliché, but here i am, happier than i’ve ever been in a car. i smile and think to myself: the key to feeling infinite is rolling the windows down.

darling nobody,

when i shut the window again a few minutes later, my face feels weird. i’ve gotten used to the resistance of the wind, and without it, all movement seems strangely smooth. it’s another reason i should roll down my windows more. you learn to appreciate peace more when you’ve lived without it. i don’t know. maybe i’m just being pretentious.

i wish you were here with me when i saw the world, darling nobody. i wish you were here with me when i felt the whole world in my heart.

x