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Oceans have always fascinated me. While I saw mountains every day until the end of my teenage years, I never saw the sea. I was intrigued by beaches where waves never stop rolling in; islands surrounded by water on all sides; ships which transports goods from ancient times; and mighty European sea powers which brought in so much wealth from their colonies.
For me, the sea was an elusive marvel; for New Delhi, though, it might have been the opposite. Despite India’s vast coastline and proximity to international shipping routes; despite a rich history of maritime trade; independent India hasn’t truly embraced the idea of becoming an ocean power. Perhaps having the capital located hundreds of kilometers from the coast hasn’t helped.
Bangalore, too, isn’t a city where you can easily reach the sea. Located in the center of southern Deccan, the closest popular beach to Bangalore is probably Pondicherry Beach, and that’s over 300 kilometers away.
When planning a trip to celebrate my daughter’s first birthday, Malpe Beach in Udupi came to mind. However, the heavy downpour at that time of year made it difficult, so we rescheduled for the end of October, aligning with Diwali and Kannada Rajyotsava holidays. I was returning to Malpe after more than a decade. Last time, it was a solo journey; this time our entire family plus, Gokul and his family (Deepa and Akanksha) joined us. We had planned to book the Vista-dome train, but I was late rebooking, and all Vista dome seats were taken, so we switched to another, slower train.
On Diwali evening, we met at Bangalore city station. This station was originally called South Bangalore City (station code as SBC). Later, the name was changed to 'Bangalore City', then to 'Bengaluru City' and finally to 'KSR Bengaluru' couple of years back. The area near the place is called 'Majestic'. This came from a popular cinema theater of the same name once located there. The Uber driver dropped me off at the station’s back entrance and I slowly walked to the fifth platform. It was fully crowded, some eagerly looking at the tracks for train to come; couple of fathers playing with their kids, others glued to their phones, and a few staring aimlessly, as if searching for something profound. There wasn't many who were laughing. Looks like people are slowly forgetting to laugh.
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Finally, the train arrived, and we settled in. Since I’d booked late, we got all middle and upper seats—far from ideal for two new mothers with one year old kid, let alone a seventy-year-old lady needing to climb. Fortunately, one guy didn't show up and another one shifted to upper berth. Alanksha, Gokul and Deepa’s daughter, was full of energy. She wanted to go to upper berth to be with her mother. The moment she reach there, she started crying for coming to her father's side(who is in lower). So Gokul take her to ground, now she will start crying to reach the upper berth. This activity repeated many times. Although this exercise provided Gokul with plenty of exercise, it was not reflected in his waistline. Fortunately, my little one stayed where she is. I silently prayed that she should not to cry till we reach Udupi!!!
I rarely sleep before midnight, but that night I fell asleep around ten thirty. By morning, light started creeping in to the compartment, waking me. I went to the door to see where we were. The train was an old metallic box, painted in a shade of yellow color, with a 72-seat configuration per bogie. I wonder why this color? can't it be something better? Outside, the trees glistened with mist and rainwater—a lush, misty landscape still miles away from the Subrahmanya Road station (SBHR) on the Hassan-Mangalore route. This is one of my favorite route, especially the stretch between Sakleshpur and Subrahmanya Road (a two-and-a-half-hour journey over 45 kilometers). After a while, we reached Subrahmanya Road, where temple-goers disembarked. We continued, crossed the mighty Netravati and reached Mangalore (a major port city in India's western coast).
With a longer stop at Mangalore Central(10 minutes official and many more unofficial), we grabbed idli-vada for breakfast, and Gokul stocked up on onion samosas... There was nothing much to do other than either sitting in the seat or just walking up and down under hot sun in uncovered platform. Finally train started and started our journey through famed Konkan rail.
India’s western coast can be divided into three sections:
1. The Kutch and Kathiawar region with the Gujarat plains to the north.
2. The Konkan and Canara coast - Konkan stretches from the Daman Ganga River in the north to the Gangavalli River in the south; while Canara (or Karavali) goes from the Gangavalli river in the north to the Chandragiri River.
3. The Malabar Coast - Starting south of Goa and extending to Kanyakumari, includes the Canara Coast in historical context.
Most of the west coast, from south of Mumbai to Kanyakumari, has similar geography: a narrow strip between the Western Ghats and the Arabian Sea, blessed by the southwest monsoon and dotted with fast-flowing rivers. If you stay in anywhere in the western coast, then you won't find much difference (as far as geography is concerned) if you move to anywhere else in the coast. I spent some time standing by the train door, taking in the vibrant coastal landscape. Around noon, we finally reached Udupi, where two prepaid autos took us to our seaside hotel, ready for lunch.
At Malpe beach
After lunch, we strolled down to the beach, which was bustling with holiday crowds for Diwali and Karnataka Rajyotsava. Malpe Beach offers a range of activities for travelers — parasailing, banana boat rides, speed board rides, zorbing, trips to St. Mary’s Island, and a sea walk along the fishing harbor’s breakwater.
The beach was relatively clean, with only a few scattered plastic bottles. Considering the holiday crowd, litter was minimal (probably due to regular cleanups). The beach road runs parallel, from Gandhi statue to Cochin Shipyard building. On the side there are two Paradise resort restaurants (with bar), probably one other restaurants, and numerous snack stalls selling sugarcane juice, spicy potato twists, sweet corn, ice cream, juices and chats. Near Gandhi statue, one can see a number of shops for tattooing; shops selling kids’ play items, and T-shirts, beach hats etc. Parking is ample, and for those looking for a drink, Paradise Resort has bars attached to two of their restaurants (not much other options for main dining), along with a few other options near Gandhi statue.
Finally, standing by the waves, I felt the ocean’s attraction pull once more. My daughter toddled happily in the sand, beach with endless horizon seemed the perfect place to celebrate. Rolling waves force was too strong for her little legs, so she stayed closer to shore. After a while, she wandered to the firm wet sand and found an empty ice cream cup let by someone. Her mother tossed it a bit further away, and our daughter gleefully toddled after it. Each toss led to another chase, and her laughter filled the air. Soaked in saltwater and sandy from play, we eventually pulled her out and walked towards hotel. By this time, sun was on his last leg of the day and about to start filling the western sky with his orange color - bidding farewell for one more day.
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| Niha walking in the water |
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| Akanksha curiously looking at her hand |
Arabian sea at night
As night fell and the beach grew darker, I found myself drawn back to the lively shoreline. A vibrant scene awaited on one end, with lights and sounds pulling me closer. I walked toward it, discovering an activity area bustling with energy. An automated bowling machine had been set up within a cricket net — participants could try their hand at batting. It seemed like the bowling speed could be adjusted, and the first player I saw had opted for fast-paced balls, swinging and missing often. His friend chose a slower setting, finding more success with it. After a while I moved on to see a children’s slide nearby, where young ones were gleefully sliding down, going back and then repeat... Each seemed perfectly lost in the moment, free from worldly worries. Next to them, a small group of kids bounced on a trampoline, while another, a 'bungee trampolin', remained unoccupied. Soon I found myself moving towards rolling waves, and glow of street lamps faded in the distance.
Standing close to the water, I watched as waves tirelessly redrew white line in air - couple of feets above the ground. There was a certain calmness hidden within the ocean’s restless rhythm. Up in the sky, a few lanterns drifted, lit by their last bit of fuel. Some people nearby were lighting these lanterns and releasing them into sky. Though beautiful to watch, once their fuel ran out, they would descend to the sea below, adding to the pollution. I wondered if they were biodegradable, though it seemed unlikely.
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After a few quiet moments, I heard Gokul call out. He, Deepa, and Akanksha had arrived for a nighttime stroll. I headed back toward the crowd, catching up them and after a few minutes of chit chat I turned once more to the ocean. Gazing into the endless horizon, I began walking southward. In the moonlit waters, I noticed a pair of figures moving with the waves — two girls in black dresses, dancing laughing with joy. The waves keep on coming and the night grew older, and I, at last, headed back to our room, ready rest and waiting for a new day.
Sajeev
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