The place is dreamy. It has become a phenomenon that keeps me sane through extremely frustrating times. Pondicherry feels less of a place and more of a state of mind. Wake up at 5:30am and look eastwards at the Bay of Bengal as the Sun thinks about rising and you will know what I am talking about.
We arrived at the resort and jumped right into the swimming pool to beat the heat - the Sun seems to love this place so much so that he just doesn't give up on roasting us. Add to this the humidity that comes with the breathtakingly beautiful seashore. Then we had a sumptuous lunch at the resort's pool-side restaurant followed by a blissful siesta.
Later that evening it was time to explore the town - we rented a motorbike and went into the charmingly French, yet messed up in out very own Indian way, city. The city is the perfect mix of cross-culturalism and conservatism I yearn for. It was so peaceful and relaxed and clear-cut when compared to a confused, west-aping Bangalore. A walk along the beach followed by an epic filter coffee at the Bombay Ananda Bhavan and back to the resort on time for a mild dinner followed by a session of what the French are famous for - no, not the kissing - a good bottle of red wine.
The next morning we were up at 5am and went to Chennai and came back to the resort by 5pm - on a motorbike (that was in admit-to-the-ICU condition) - along the ECR - with pitstops at the place that was considered to be the Paradise on Earth created by the mighty Pallavas - Mamallapuram.
The next day as I was swimming at the resort's pool, I saw this couple - a European man, his Indian wife and their two little kids. The man was playing with his younger son while I was resting there and we began small talking.
"Where are you from?", he asked.
"Bangalore. And you?"
"France. Paris." He continued, "Vacation?"
"Yes, just for a couple more days."
"Oh, I get one month every year." He boasted - or that's how it sounded to the holiday-deprived, overworked, Indian me.
He continued, "My wife's parents are from Pondy. So we come here for a month every year."
We went on to chat about what I did for a living among other things for about half an hour.
There I was, sitting by the pool, watching people from various countries and cultures - the way they talk, their boy language and everything - while sipping on a mug of chilled beer. Life is good indeed - specially when it is slow, like it is in Pondy.