...In between perpetual laziness, running away from grandma who's hell bent on seeing me married, and the work I never want to go back to, this strange spark of idea flashed momentarily in an overcooked brain. On the road somewhere, searching for Durians on an already hot Saturday, we decided to drop it all, and head to the island that still rekindles memories from days of innocence.
One thing about deciding for something; just stop thinking and go for it. The mysterious waves of mutual 'likings' will surely take you there. Or, try the other method, drive 80 miles, in under 30 minutes to catch a boat leaving in an hour (it was much urgent in real life). If you get on the boat, you are an hour and a half away from paradise. If not, you are doomed to spend the weekend thinking of office and hell, or worst, stuck in some cinema watching summer 'enlightenment' that would have made Da Vinci kill himself, or go through a farce where they kill Prof Xavier...You B$@%^&ds!
Back to the story, in any unplanned road trips, minor hiccups like getting a rented car with doors that wont open, or finding all the hotels and motels fully booked is the norm. Of course, worst things could happen like getting lost in the middle of the sea, pirates...Etc (incase you're bored, the name of the island will appear at the end of the post, go have your tea now).
The island, lets call it paradise island, is famous for its beaches, its marinas, its air show and freakin cheap booze. Yes, you heard me rite, the pilgrimage is for nothing but duty free booze. That should explain the minority of photo's taken.The world famous island, once had one of its beach voted as the worlds best kept secret beach featured in the Travel channel. Miles and miles of white soft silica sand (silica sand...now I know thanks to the BBD), infinite stretches of palm trees, hundreds of islands, mountains and 'death' cable cars. If anyone had taken a ride on the cable car on this island and came off happy, shoot me an email...I wanna meet you.
// Once, months ago, I wrote of a poem as a tribute to this enigmatic island. The island that I loved, where I discovered myself and which strangely enough contributed much to my anti social tendencies. It was solitary life at its best. Those were the days where my mind roamed free, when nature was virgin, and life had a meaning. I wrote the poem to symbolize how the island was raped and left to die.
What paradise were we chasing, everyone stuck in their own dreams, trying hard to have fun. Somehow we lost the innocence long ago, that facing the past was so hard. So the Laddu Boy(s) ended up feeling deeply unsatisfied with the whole experience. Among the three of us, all leading diverse lives, it felt like searching in the dark, of ways to connect.
It was fun after all, after long hours spent searching for that illusive available room, buying the correct liquor, getting all the wrong food, and stoning ourselves senseless with cigars... pure fun away from all the vices and pressures of the big city, dreaming of girls we could never have.
Have you ever walked on the endless beach under the solitary moon rediscovering paths in your hearts, recovering some dreams. Footsteps, hundreds of them, in the shades of the midnight clouds, mesmerizing sparkles of of ember from spent bon fires, still braving the cold breeze, lovers huddle escaping their own troubles. Life, I can say now, is about leaving, its an escapist dream, discarding stuff and just going away. I wish it can last forever.
// So we had laddu boy (named so coz he owns the best damn Indian Sweet shop on earth) pick up whatever he sees fit to drink; which turned out to be Vodka, Vodka and Vodka. So Vodka was voted out, and we bought some wine, Jim Bean, and Bombay 'Safari'. Yes, we changed its name, as ordered (because laddu boy hated pronouncing Bombay Sapphire). But alas, fate had it against us that we got tired before we got drunk and in between a girl named Amutha and fading school memories we slept with much of the booze remaining. The problem would be getting it out of the island the next day, the rules are we have to stay atleast 2 days to get it out without paying any taxes. We had 15 hours. Hence started another adventure of hiding the booze and praying to all the Gods not on holiday that we can bring it home safely for the next Muruku party. (Muruku party, is a great tradition of the laddu boy(s) from this part of the world, combining the potent powers of all named beers and liquors with Muruku to organize one hell of a Deepavali party). We did succeed finally to get it past the c*ustoms, not before acting dumb silly planning all sorts of evasive actions and trying to feign innocence. I had a feeling that they would stop all Indian dudes coming to this island coz basically, we all know that they come for that one thing, BOOZE!
// What about this island called Langkawi that I love most or I miss most? When I first came here, through some fated decision, i left all my friends back home. Young age and lost friends doesn't mix well, and loneliness turned into a defense that I still practice till today. Places and people define who we are, in many ways they help us build characters and realize our lives. But is there a possibility that nature itself be the guide, the invisible force that lives in us and among us that protects us and raises us?
This island is full of legends spanning centuries, spanning religions and beliefs. From the mythical Ramayana, stories of Garuda, centuries of invasion by warring kings, somehow it survived everything but modern day man. The contemporary Langkawi fails to uphold its mysterious past, and is slowly sliding away into dead beaches full of unwanting holiday goers who come for cheap entertainment. The sense of loss echoed deep in me, probably my buddies felt the same of the dead island, which would had a grand life but failed to its new age competitors in neighboring Thailand.
The legendary island is home to never ending stories, some I know, most I want to know. From caves where white crocodiles live, to lakes that women who cant get pregnant go for that magical touch from higher powers, the footprints of Hanuman hidden among the fogged hills and century old geists that no one dares to speak of.
So we did discover some secret beaches, pebbles who saw no man, but we don't own everything we see. Some good people do try to safeguard this gift of time (See links below). The millions of sand particles, forever falling to the bottom of some proverbial hour glass, witness beauty in form of humans, and the mysterious marine life, and the islands around Langkawi each having its own story to tell.
The journey this time ends here, probably will many loose ends. Its up to the readers to fill. I bet if we managed to dig and search deep enough, there are many legends worth more than some hyped book that mirrors our lives more. Nature, the inevitable force that will determine our destiny will forever shape us, but if we choose to let go, then we may loose it forever. The stories of Langkawi will be told one day, the legends and the people will live forever. But for now I wish the pretenders fade away and let the island heal. The Legendary stories continue...
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