Goa, drenched in the silver monsoon showers, is an enchantress bedecked in emerald, peridot and jade. She is all flash and dance even in the rains, for being unobtrusive has never been her style. The wind is blowing hard. A constant hum fills the air. A stewardess, sturdily built with plaited hair coiled into a bun, receives us with a toothy smile. There is a stream of fast and garbled announcements, shaky clouds and then sunshine. My body is heaved up and then I can feel it sinking and the blue sky melts into a misty sea. I arrive in Goa to a cloudburst. The airport is like a supermarket, a sharp contrast to the Bangalore Airport with its high ceiling and bright lights. Soon, I am on a bus to South Goa and to the
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