"I could never decide whether I love the mountains or the sea more," I told him as we walked along the beach recently. He smiled.

"I think I love them both equally. I want to go to a place that has mountains by the sea. Is there a place like that nearby?"

"Of course," he said, "Ganpatipule."

Ganpatipule! How could I have forgotten!

Rewind back to the end of 1996. A moderately cool December night, a couple of bottles of Old Monk, one camera, two notepads, four pens, four duffel bags, three men and I.

I almost didn't make it to the train station on time. I wasn't even sure if I was going, I hadn't even packed. Hung around the office till it was late, then rushed home, threw some stuff in a bag, hopped on to a local train and made it to the terminus. It was dark, it was deserted and I was dilly-dallying as usual. Maybe I've missed the train, I thought. Which is just as well. How well do I know these guys even? Should I really be going? I'm going to get bored for sure.

Wishful thinking never worked for me. So out there, from the darkness, emerged my knights in shining armour (except I didn't know that at the time), grabbed my bag and made sure we got into the train on time.

I knew only one of the guys, but professionally. The other two I had been introduced to on previous occasions but hadn't interacted with much. It was late at night, so we got on to our sleeper berths shortly after boarding the train. The men talked and passed around an Old Monk-Pepsi ready mix in a plastic bottle. I could have puked! I said no thanks, chewed on some gum and then quickly fell asleep.

We were already at our destination as soon as we woke up the next morning. There was a car waiting to take us to the resort that we'd been invited to check out and, possibly, write about. I don't remember much about the drive up but once we entered the gates, we were all blown away. Okay, there were these decent looking cottages spread out over the property, beautiful flowers in the garden, clear blue sky above, bright red earth beneath, a monster swimming pool, blah blah blah... But that's not what blew us away, that would be the resort overlooking a gorgeous stretch of it's own private beach. We were giddy with delight!

Everything else now is a blur, the food, the rooms, the weather, the people... All that peeks out from that wonderful maze of memories is the sheer beauty of the place - the soft, clean sands; those enticing coconut trees leaning gently towards the sea; the lucid, blue sea laced with shiny, white froth as the waves kissed the shore; those clear, starry nights, one of which had the moon so full and so big and so near that it felt like you could almost touch it.

The next day we were driven around in a comfortable big white Ambassador, and I remember the excitement as we took our first steep turn and caught a glimpse of the sea. Just a couple of kilometres more and we were up on hill overlooking the sea. It was gorgeous!

I leaned against those craggy big rocks on the cliff and soaked in the sight. The view was mysterious and mesmerising, it was also romantic and awe inspiring. I could understand how battles were fought and wars were raged over these waters and shores all those centuries ago. It was like being like at the gates of dawn and the edge of the world all at once.

I remember a couple of weeks later, I was walking down a narrow crowded street in Fort, South Bombay, with a colleague. It was late in the evening and we were taking a short break from work, smoking our cigarettes and heading to our regular haunt for some coffee. As the city's harsh sounds and acrid smells overwhelmed me, I turned to him and described what I had seen in Ganpatipule.

"How beautiful could it have been?" he asked.

"So beautiful that I could have died."

"What?"

"Yes, you know how each time I'm really really happy I feel like just laying down and dying? It made me feel that way."

"You're weird."

But I loved that place. I remember just laying there on the beach, exactly where the sea meets the shore, and feeling the waves wash over me and leave, each time with precision. I remember going down to the beach just before sunset and not leaving until the moon had risen above. I remember walking along the beach with the guys after dinner, that moon was so big and so bright and we were the only people out there. Even with the sounds of the sea amplified at that hour, I'm sure you could hear us from a distance. The laughter and the singing.

My life was quite a mess at the time; I was about to turn 23 in a few weeks, I was confused about my career and the newspaper I worked at was about to be shut down, my mother was about to come back after years of living away, and I was in this volatile relationship with a very obssessive and possessive guy. But being in that place, at that time, with those people, I just remember feeling nothing but happiness and joy!

It turned out to be a wonderful trip. The guys made me feel very comfortable and we got along really well. We spent all our time together, except for my private sunset-moonrise sessions on the beach. (They were sweet enough to leave me alone). I remember one evening, I had forgotten to take my room key with me so I walked back to the cottage wet from head to toe! I was too embarassed to go to the reception that way, so I did the next best thing.

The guys and I shared this cottage that had two huge rooms, obviously I had one and the three of them shared the other. The rooms were really huge, I think they were meant for four people each! So anyway our rooms had a connecting door, and I landed up on the  front porch of the boys' room and knocked. The door opened and three men looked at me with their jaws dropped, I was dripping from head to toe on their doormat! I sheepishly apologised and ran to my room through the connecting door. That night, we all ate dinner in silence... Haha, ok maybe we didn't. But it was pretty embarassing!

I still have these two pictures that they'd taken of me; in the first one I am leaning against the rocks on the cliff, gazing blissfully at the sea. In the other one I'm sitting in a chair outside the reception, laughing so hard at a joke that my eyes are shut. I'm wearing these huge round glasses and the humidity in Ganpatipule had turned my hair into a nightmare! All three of them signed the back of this picture, and paraphrased a few lines from that Billy Joel song: She laughs like a child, steals like a thief, but she's always a woman for us. From your fan club.

It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever given me, and I was flattered to say the least. It turned out to be such an unexpectedly fabulous holiday and even back then, even after I had enjoyed myself so much, I didn't think that I would remember it so vividly 14 years later.

Sadly, I don't have any pictures of that place, or of all of us together. I don't even have a copy of the article I'd written, which was published in Sunday supplement of my newspaper. And even sadder is the fact that I'm not in touch with those three guys, who made my trip so much fun. I'd like to go back to that  place again though, and look at the sea from those magnificent mountains again. This time I will take my camera, and possibly a friend. It's time to make some new memories.