11 & 12 May 2025
Birthdays seem to feel bigger while traveling — more meaningful somehow, as if the whole world joins in your celebration.
It was Lea’s birthday, and we honoured it island-style: a stovetop-steamed chocolate cake and, later, a barbecue feast on the beach. The boys were all too eager to drag tables and chairs down to the sand, entertaining us with their playful antics. They’ve recently discovered Uno, and let’s just say… it became a full-on battle of wits and war cries.
Across the bay, we could see fire dancers twirling flaming staffs in a hypnotic rhythm — their silhouettes moving like shadows against the night. I can’t wait to see the show up close next weekend. Not to be outdone, our own boys attempted a rather… enthusiastic version of a fire show. Spoiler: it involved them flinging sticks into the air, then running in the opposite direction as flames chased them down.
We laughed until our stomachs hurt. It was perfect.
I’ve slowly been settling into a gentle rhythm here on the island.
Each day follows a familiar dance:
Guests arrive with the first boat or check out early to return to the mainland. Breakfast is the busiest time, as sleepy souls emerge from their tents, pour coffee, and watch the ocean shimmer into a new day. Then the energy dips — the beach is raked, tents are cleaned, and a quiet hush takes over. Most guests vanish into sunbathing or snorkeling.
We shift into ‘second breakfast,’ lunch, and stillness.
The slow pace here is beautiful — and occasionally frustrating. When things do need to get done, the only response you’ll get is:
“Wait… slowly, slowly.”
Just like India.
And just like India, I find myself watching the contrast between the Western pace and the spirit of these brown-skinned island souls. The Malays are different from the Indians — and also, somehow, the same.
There is a kindness in their eyes. A relaxed joy that speaks to my heart.
A life lived under the sun, where smiles are easy and playfulness is sacred.
Since time has dissolved like salt into sea foam, I’ve given myself fully to my breathwork and meditation.
Every morning and afternoon, I sit with the jungle and the sea.
I listen to the monkeys chattering, birds trading songs, waves humming their endless mantra.
Today, a round black monkey face peeked at me through the leaves — white-ringed eyes wide and curious. I was filming with my phone when it stopped, looked me dead in the eye, and gave a cheeky little squeak before leaping wildly into the next tree. I laughed out loud. Wild joy.
This afternoon, with the camp quiet and no dinner orders in, Chef, Akim and I strolled over to Bfirst for our usual Milo Ice. As we sipped, a massive thundercloud rolled across the sky from the mainland. I snapped a picture — the kind that belongs in a movie trailer — just before the rain came crashing down.
Ten minutes later, the island had been rinsed clean, the tantrum passed.
We walked back… slowly, slowly.
The full moon was rising, peeking through the clouds like a blessing.
Everything felt… right.
Still. Sacred.
And then, in my tent, I checked my phone.
A message from Aryan lit up my screen:
“12 Monks hostel is looking for volunteers — and someone to collaborate on retreats, wellness events, healing sessions…”
My heart skipped. This is exactly what I’d been dreaming of.
I hadn’t planned to return to Rishikesh…
But then the second message came through:
“It’s not Rishikesh. It’s… GOA.”
I burst out laughing.
Of course it’s Goa.
I’ve just submitted my application. It feels like this opportunity was designed for me.
Now, I wait. And trust.
The moon is full. The tide is turning.
