Eyes and Escapes

July 2024: A Flood of Free Time, Navi Mumbai

Picture this: my Navi Mumbai apartment during monsoon season. Flooding? No, not water—though it does rain cats and dogs there. I’m talking about a flood of free time. Fresh out of a fellowship and facing a three-week gap before relocating to Bangalore, I found myself with plenty of time but little direction.

Ironically, instead of tidying up and organizing for my move, I let my enthusiasm run wild, toxically overplanning my days in Bangalore. I charted a meticulous schedule for “self-discovery,” jam-packing it with activities and goals. The problem? I didn’t give myself time to breathe, let alone settle in. Enthusiasm overrode practicality. Eager to embrace my new journey, I envisioned short solo trips near Bangalore as my gateway to solo travel bliss.

The Tirthan Valley Prelude and a Gokarna Epiphany

My earlier trip to Tirthan Valley had already laid bare my crippling anxiety—a story for another day. Determined to break out of my shell, I gifted myself an unconventional birthday present: a “dinner with strangers” event in Bangalore. The food? Forgettable. The takeaway? Unforgettable.

At this dinner, I met a woman whose story inspired me. A Delhiite living in Bangalore for three years, she’d done countless solo trips. Why Bangalore, I asked? Because of the incredible people she met in Gokarna! Could the vibes there really be that transformative? I had to find out.

Ganesh Chaturthi and the Green Light

With just 7 annual holidays at my new job, I was thrilled to spot an opportunity: Ganesh Chaturthi, a Saturday, meant I could sneak in a 2D/1N trip. I booked an overnight KSRTC semi-sleeper bus and a dorm bed at Zostel Gokarna, ticking two major “stepping out of my comfort zone” boxes. Booking the dorm was the bigger leap. Despite nerves—and too many frantic calls to friends for reassurance—I went through with it.

The Journey from Bangalore to Gokarna

Gokarna, a serene village in Karnataka’s Uttara Kannada district, is known for its clean, picturesque beaches and spiritual aura. Beyond its renowned temples, the village offers activities like beach trekking, camping, bioluminescence spotting, and surfing. However, given the short duration of my trip and my own energy constraints due to anxiety, I chose to keep it simple—exploring beaches, soaking in the views, and indulging in café-hopping.

Booking my KSRTC bus tickets was easy, but the decision wasn’t. I spent two days contemplating whether to go or not, paralyzed by uncertainty. Finally, I closed my eyes and clicked “confirm.” It was a leap out of my comfort zone. The journey from Bangalore to Gokarna crosses the Western Ghats, offering spectacular views during the daytime. Unfortunately, I took a night bus, so my experience was less scenic and more about semi-sleeper struggles— semi-sleeping only because it’s a semi-sleeper

Staying in a dormitory at Zostel Gokarna was an even bigger leap for me. I wrestled with self-doubt and anxiety, making countless calls to friends for reassurance. One particular friend, married and living in another city, encouraged me to take the plunge. Her words nudged me to book a mixed dorm, primarily because it promised a sea view—a decision that later proved to be a mistake.

Arrival: The Narrow Lanes of Gokarna : September 7, 2024

When I arrived at Gokarna’s bustling bus depot, nestled in the heart of the local market, the contrast with Bangalore was stark. Narrow roads lined with moss-coated homes and swaying coconut trees exuded a rustic charm. The humid, stuffy air was worlds apart from Bangalore’s cool, crisp weather.

It was Ganesh Chaturthi, and the village was alive with festive energy. Men in saffron or white lungis zipped by on mopeds, carrying coconuts, mango leaves, and flowers. Women in silk sarees and priests briskly moved about, ensuring they didn’t miss the auspicious muhurta. The lively scene gave me a glimpse into Gokarna’s spiritual vibrancy.

Carrying my lone backpack (a conscious choice this time), I decided to walk the 950 meters to Zostel instead of taking an auto. Halfway there, I realized I couldn’t locate the route to the hostel and begrudgingly hailed an auto. To my surprise—and mild dismay—the driver charged ₹100 for a distance of less than 450 meters, citing a longer alternative route due to the hostel being on a hilltop. While I felt cheated when he took the shorter route anyway, I was momentarily distracted by the scenic lanes we passed. Lush greenery, mossy pathways, and locals carrying kosambri (a cucumber salad offered to the deity) painted a vivid picture of life here.

Zostel Gokarna: First Impressions and a Mixed Dorm Mistake

When I finally reached Zostel, I was greeted by its sprawling property. A concrete pathway led to the main building, home to the dorms and the famous Mantra Café. I noticed rows of scooters lined up for rent—a handy option I wish I’d known earlier.

Check-in was smooth, and I was led to my mixed dorm. Anxiety, however, wasted no time in kicking in, especially since it was my first time staying in such an arrangement. While my gut had screamed “NO” during the booking process, I had overridden it in favor of the “sea view” dorm—a choice I would later regret. Bypassing your instincts is never a good idea.

To my great relief, the dorm was empty when I arrived, and the air-conditioning provided a much-needed respite from the heat. I freshened up and tried to stick to my itinerary, planning to rest until 10 a.m. before heading out to explore. Around 11 a.m., another guest—a guy—checked in and was assigned the bunk above mine. We exchanged brief introductions before I set out solo, a decision I would later be thankful for.

For ₹800, I rented a scooter and filled up ₹100 worth of petrol to begin my Gokarna adventure. My first stop? The serene Rama Teertha Pushkarni. The journey had only just begun.

Rama Teertha Pushkarni – A Sanctuary Beyond the Noise

Hidden on a cliff overlooking the shimmering waters of Gokarna Main Beach lies Rama Teertha Pushkarni, a place that seems to whisper secrets of the ages. It’s not a spot you’ll find trending on Instagram or topping travel itineraries. And that’s what makes it special—this is the kind of place that finds you.

There are two ways to reach the temple: a trek starting near Zostel or a winding road that carves its way up the hill. Google Maps nudged me toward the trek, but let’s just say my faith in digital maps wavered that morning. Instead, I opted for the road. As I approached Gokarna Main Beach, a sharp left turn revealed a narrow uphill path that promised solitude and, perhaps, a touch of mystery.

While I parked my scooter at the entrance of temple, I noticed I am greeted by an unexpected welcoming committee—a troop of monkeys, their glossy eyes fixed on me as if to say, What’s in the bag? Bananas? Biscuits? Or just disappointment? Their scrutiny was almost comedic, but thankfully, they let me pass without drama.

The path to the temple was straight out of a storybook, with moist earth underfoot and moss-covered walls that glistened from the morning dew. The humble homes of temple priests lined the way, their doors adorned with turmeric streaks and marigold garlands. At the end of this earthy trail stood the temple.

As I walked past this open entranceway, the scene was surreal. A priest, dressed in saffron, was scrubbing his robes under a thin stream of holy water pouring from a spout in the stepwell. Nearby, a family, fresh from their ritual bath, ascended the steps with radiant smiles, their faith washing over them like the very water they’d just emerged from. The drizzle that began to fall seemed almost theatrical—nature’s way of blessing the moment.

It drizzled as I climbed the stairs slowly, pausing to take in the temple’s serene energy. Few cows lounged on the open veranda, their serene gaze mirroring the calm of the place. And then there was a villager sitting perfectly still, doing absolutely nothing. In that moment, I realized what a lost art that is—just being present, without the need to scroll, snap, or rush. On the side of the temple where there was a cliff facing the sea, a small group of men sat on the cliff’s edge, their fishing lines cast into the infinite blue below, their quiet laughter blending with the rhythmic crash of waves.

The temple’s garbha gudi (inner sanctum) was closed, but I leaned in through the latticework of the door, squinting to catch a glimpse of Lord Rama. While my heart has always belonged to Krishna, I reminded myself that Rama and Krishna are two sides of the same cosmic coin. I stood there, whispering a silent prayer:
“Thank you for leading me here, for grounding me in this moment, and for always walking beside me, even when I lose my way.”

This temple hadn’t been on my radar during trip planning—it wasn’t on glossy travel blogs or Instagram’s – “must visit”, that tell you what’s “hot” in Gokarna. It was just a pin on Google Maps, one that caught my eye while I planned my itinerary in Bangalore. But I believe in serendipity, with a gentle nudge of destiny, and in the idea that certain places call to us when we’re ready to listen.

After my prayers, I walked to the cliff’s edge where the fishermen sat. The Arabian Sea stretched endlessly before me, its waves reflecting the gray of the storm-laden sky. The wind was relentless, tugging at my hair and filling my lungs with the salty tang of adventure. I sat there, letting the world fall away, and even video-called a friend to share this sliver of untouched beauty.

By the time I left, the drizzle had stopped, and the monkeys—my unofficial hosts—watched me go. There was something oddly comforting in their gaze, as if they were silently bidding me farewell.

Mahabaleshwar Temple – Chaos, Cows, and a Touch of Divinity

From the tranquility of Rama Teertha Pushkarni, I descended into the bustling heart of Gokarna village, where the Mahabaleshwar Temple stood at a chaotic intersection of narrow streets. Finding a parking spot for my scooter felt like a game of Tetris—except the blocks were people, cows, and an artistic scattering of cow dung that lined the road like abstract polka dots.

Navigating this scene required a level of focus I think I knew! I parked with a sense of triumph, narrowly avoiding both pedestrians and dung, and made my way towards a spot to park my scooter.

As I stepped inside, a man who appeared to be a priest approached me, his hands filled with flowers and his voice filled with instructions. “Take these, offer them to the Devi shrine at the back,” he said, smiling with what I thought was divine generosity. For a moment, I was touched by his kindness—until I realized he expected a donation. When I sheepishly admitted I had no cash and asked if he accepted UPI, his smile evaporated faster than the morning mist. He walked away muttering something that I’m certain wasn’t a blessing.

Wearing jeans and a T-shirt meant I couldn’t enter the temple’s sanctum. I stood outside, folding my hands in quiet prayer. Faith doesn’t need a dress code, I told myself, and the energy of the place reached me all the same.

Leaving was another adventure. The lane was too narrow for a proper turn, so I had to reverse my scooter, dodging everything from dung to curious onlookers. It felt like a circus act—one that I somehow managed to pull off without incident.

And with that, I was off to my next destination: Kudle Beach.

Kudle Beach – Where Waves Heal and Grains of Sand Soothe

Navigating my way to Kudle Beach was no less than an adventure in itself. Google Maps were not of much help, but an auto driver came to my rescue, guiding me toward the trailhead. The trek down to the beach was short and easy, but the desolation on the path gave me chills. For a moment, I questioned my boldness. Yet, as my feet touched the soft sands of Kudle Beach, all my fears dissolved like sea foam under the waves.

The beach greeted me with a symphony of rolling waves and a canvas of natural beauty. Initially, I noticed debris scattered across the shoreline, but as I wandered closer to the heart of the beach, the sand turned soft and inviting. Each grain seemed to wash away a layer of fatigue, grounding me in the present moment.

I found a solitary rock formation that promised a perfect seat to soak it all in. One family occupied it, and though I waited patiently, my reward was worth it. As soon as they left, I claimed my spot, letting the waves lap at my feet. Time seemed to pause as I gazed at the horizon, where dark clouds began their slow, dramatic ascent. The impending rainstorm painted the sky with moody grays and blues. For a moment, the only sound – music that I could hear was of rolling waves crashing the beach. With every wave rolling delicately over my feet, I could feel a comfortable light bubbling sensation.

When hunger nudged me, I walked to a beachside café, strolling along the waterline as the waves teased my ankles. The ocean, the wind, and the expansive skies filled me with gratitude and an endorphin rush so pure that I couldn’t help but smile. Nature has a way of healing you in ways no spa or therapy session ever could.

The café offered hearty food, nothing extraordinary, but it was enough to refuel me for the next chapter of my journey: Om Beach.

Om Beach – A Paradise Found

If Kudle Beach was peaceful, Om Beach was nothing short of magical. Located about 5 kilometers from Zostel Gokarna, the journey there was an adventure wrapped in confusion. I found myself repeatedly checking Google Maps, only to feel lost amidst the narrow village roads. Villagers tried to help, yet the route was tricky. At one point, I took what I call a “bold right turn,” leading me up a steep hill where the concrete road seemed half-destroyed, perhaps by a landslide.

With bated breath, I maneuvered past the damaged road and into a stretch of deserted road lined by forest on both sides. My nerves were on edge as I saw more travelers returning from the beach than heading toward it. The clock ticked closer to evening, and the thought of being stuck in the jungle after dark began to worry me. When the road bifurcated at an unmanned checkpoint, I froze, unsure which path to take.

Suddenly, it began to rain. Seeking refuge, I huddled under the sprawling canopy of a banyan tree. A couple on a scooter soon joined me, also seeking shelter. Though they were as clueless as I was, we decided to brave the left path together. And just like that—voilà! Om Beach unfolded before us.

The beauty of this beach was unparalleled. After a short trek down a stone trail lined with vendors selling beads and braids, I arrived at the shore. The sand was pristine, the water clear, and the atmosphere vibrant yet serene. A scattering of rock formations added character to the shoreline, each occupied by visitors eagerly awaiting the sunset.

I climbed a rock and secured a spot, ready to witness the sun melt into the horizon. But nature had other plans. Clouds cloaked the sun, allowing only faint rays to escape their embrace. Though I couldn’t see the sun’s graceful descent, the moment still held a quiet beauty, a lesson in finding joy even when things don’t go as planned.

Fearing the dark forest roads on my return journey, I didn’t linger long. But the day’s magic wasn’t over yet.

Friendships and Fears – The Duality of Solo Travel

On my way back, the rain poured harder, turning the narrow lanes into slick challenges. I found shelter under the porch of a house lit by a single tube light. Soon, another traveler—a man in the army—joined me, followed by two of his friends. Coincidentally, all of us were from Bangalore. In the rain-soaked darkness, laughter and stories flowed as we bonded over our shared adventures.

Back at Zostel, the night began with live music at Mantra Café, a lively spot attached to the hostel. My dormmate and I joined the others for food, drinks, and conversations about life and wanderlust. Plans to visit the beach at night were made but, overwhelmed by exhaustion, I chose to retire early.

And then, the night took an unexpected turn. A fellow traveler misbehaved with me. My heart raced, my mind froze, and I rushed downstairs to seek help. The manager eventually arrived and swiftly acted, moving me to a private suite and ensuring the person left the next day.

This incident shattered my sense of safety, leaving me shaken. The next morning, I woke up late, weighed down by shame and fear. I had planned to visit Paradise and Half-Moon Beach, but my courage faltered. Calling my girlfriends helped me find some solace.

Still, I refused to let the incident define my trip. Choosing the comfort of familiarity, I headed back to Om Beach.

Healing by the Sea

At Om Beach, the morning sunlight kissed my face, and the salty breeze whispered words of comfort. I indulged in a slow breakfast at Namaste Café, letting the hours stretch as I reflected on the past day. The wait for food was endless, but it gave me precious time to think, to heal, and to reclaim my sense of self.

After breakfast, I returned to the rocks, letting the waves and wind remind me of my resilience. The sea seemed to mirror my emotions—its rising tides felt like a reflection of my inner storm.

After breakfast, I found myself with some time to soak in the surroundings. I strolled leisurely along the beach, drawn to the enchanting canopy formed by the trees. I yearned to walk through it, imagining the serenity it promised. But as the sea swelled with each passing minute, the path ahead was deemed unsafe, and I had to stop. Disappointed yet hopeful, I snapped a few pictures of the canopy, silently thinking to myself, ‘Next time.’ With that thought, I moved to a more secure spot, carrying a promise to return.

As I sat by the shore, absorbing the vastness of the ocean, a wave of clarity swept over me—a confrontation with reality.

What are we chasing or running from? What are we clinging to so tightly that it causes us pain? And why, oh why, do we take ourselves so seriously?

In the grand scheme of existence, whether we pursue or flee, all paths lead to the same destination—the ultimate. Our journeys, no matter how winding, end as we dissolve into the infinite vastness of the universe. I believe that in that moment, we transcend individuality and become part of a higher being—God, and for me, that is Krishna.

So, why the rush? Why not pause and savour the beauty of the journey itself?

The ideas we hold onto so fiercely, the stories we weave in our minds—they’re illusions, far removed from the truth. We live as though we are eternal, but the undeniable reality is that one day, we’ll return to being nothing more than the tiniest particle in this boundless cosmos.

When we embrace life as a journey, when we see the people and experiences we encounter as lessons, and when we find the courage to accept things as they truly are, we begin to liberate ourselves from unnecessary pain.

Because when the end arrives—when our soul has been seasoned by the fullness of life and our body is ready to merge back into the universe—we’ll carry the peace of having truly lived.

Guards eventually called everyone back as the sea swelled with the changing weather.

Before leaving, I let a local vendor braid my hair, a small yet joyful act that stayed with me all the way back to Bangalore.

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A Bittersweet Goodbye

As I packed my bags at Zostel and shared a final conversation with a fellow traveler from Kolkata, I felt a mix of gratitude and longing. The people I met, the places I visited, and even the challenges I faced had carved a permanent place in my memory.

Solo travel isn’t always sunshine and serendipity. It’s about courage, resilience, and embracing the unknown. It’s about trusting your gut, finding strength in adversity, and learning to love yourself through it all.

Gokarna, I will return—wiser, braver, and ready to uncover more of your magic