Saltpans: dreamy backyards of Mumbai

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When Janu, our plump sweet little baby was a toddler we (Sai and I) would feel guilty that she was cooped up in the house most of the time because 1) we were working 2) our flat was on the topmost floor so we could not leave her to roam about on her own down in the compound 3) and our timings were such that when we were home we could not go down and hang about -- the tiny compound was not only gloomy but also mosquito-ridden in the nights...

So we would travel in our little second-hand Omni to some nice dreamy locales, where it was not too costly to spend a night, off the beach, with a stiff breeze, good homely food and nice family company about us ...some beer and even fish (when I was ok with that sort of non-veg fare before yoga sort of wore it out of my system). Domnica guest house at Manori, off Mumbai, near Gorai, was our regular haunt.

When you left the hurly burly of Mumbai, sort of epitomised by the malls in Mira Road, and entered narrow strips of roads hugged by expanse where sky touched earth, you felt truly free. The village homes looking cosy, the illegal speedbreakers, the scrawny or lush vegetation (depending on the season), the lazy clouds scattering the sky, good-clean looking boys on bikes, dhabhas, housewives selling tadgola or cucumber (according to season and availability) along the roads -- it felt heaven...

One of the sights that greeted you and still do, are that of the salt pans, immediately after Mira Road drops behind you. Something about those harsh white mounds, the marshy water in dark pools about, a lazy crane breakdancing in those marshes made such breaks so special. I used to pack food since there were no food-stalls that could accomodate a kid. When Sai and I visited the Pagoda (Buddha relics also there, off Esselworld) we once more passed this tract and felt uplifted...

Sad thing is our kid is now grown up. Possibly when you are a teen you feel suffocated to spend so much time with your old parents. So she resists the idea of the such outings these days, preferring her i-pod and her mobile phone to the break of waves and a bare sky. We oldies felt the stab of nostalgia when the salt pans rushed past us on the roads.. Maybe next year, we will surely make it....