Damayanti has seen the Bay of Bengal countless number of times. The family's favourite 'any occasion' escapade to the shores since her growing up days, ensured that. The waters are indeed stunning. No doubt about that. Mammoth waves, drowning out unnecessary clutter has always been her favourite part.
The sea calms her down. Thank God, she lives in an island. But this summer, separated by lightyears from those adolescent summers, Damayanti changed shores, and saw the Mediterranean for the very first time. She experienced it, like a lifestyle choice. Sipped it slowly like her Nutella-ed coffee all along Eze, along Villefranche-sur-mer, along Antibes.
'Voudrais-tu tremper tes pieds dans l'eau, madame?' the tour guide asked her. 'Oui', Damayanti replied, exhausting her French vocabulary, and sat by the rocks, dipping her feet in the water, letting the 13 alphabets tickle her toes. Looking at all that ultramarine around her, she thought about the books she had read - The Count of Monte Cristo topping her list. If you look far enough, would you be able to see the Château d'If? Would you see Edmond Dantès battling the tides? Would you find lost treasure from Abbé Faria's map? And Damayanti's mind drifted off.
On the way back to the train station, she was convinced she saw a Dantès look-alike, roaming the streets, inebriated and lost. The times have changed. The roads are still very pretty. Very charming and cobbled, appropriately shaded with Bougainvillea. But none will take him back to Mercédès! That ship has sailed.
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