‘How can you not
love the oceans!’ Cuan lazily mumbled. I could only manage a vague ‘umm’ from
my deep stupor. ‘Now seriously, what have got against oceans!’ His voice now had
the clarity of someone in the morning after a very, umm, spirited night. It
alarmed me; the bugger is warming up for one of those ‘spirited discussions’. I
took a moment; no, not to think about reply but to plan an evasive manoeuvre,
then mumbled ‘I do love oceans’. ‘Oh sure you do’; the clarity and the sarcasm
in his voice was unnerving, so I added, as if as an afterthought, ‘I just love
land more.’ ‘Umm’ came the reply, in reassuring drowsiness, and I started to
sink back into my stupor.
‘But why?’ The clear
voice slapped me out of the snooze-fest. I gave the gleaming-faced rascal the
most rueful look I could muster and quipped, ‘Why do you love oceans more?’ his
eyes lost the gleam like getting into a trance, his voice dropped and he
whispered ‘I just love them, they make me feel lost.’ And he remained lost for
some time, gazing at the sun-drenched Pacific before us.
When he turned back
the maniacal gleam had returned. ‘Did I tell you about the time I sailed from
Atuona to Motane!’ I gathered they are some specks somewhere in the Pacific.
‘It wasn’t like I was crossing the ocean; just a bit of island-hopping, you
know. But halfway across, I was into the never-ending endlessness; just the
horizon gently popping up and down from the turquoise expanse.’ He took a deep
breath; the trance was wining over the wild gleam once more. ‘The soft
splashing (of the waves) and gentle whooshing (of the breeze) only made the
silence more transcending. It was so peaceful. I was soaking in it; like a
person lying in a bathtub, with every sense and every cell calming to a trance.’
I understand him
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