Earlier this month, I decided to just be spontaneous and impulsive for once, and took a short, two-day break from the city and the daily grind. I got home at 10 pm the previous night, packed a small bag, jumped into the shower, set an alarm, and drifted off. It's another thing that I was woken up a few hours later, around 3:30 am, and then couldn't go back to sleep. I decided to stay awake anyway and left the house at 7 am, to meet the Farmer at the station from where we caught a long-distance train. It had started pouring from the time I set out from home and the rain came along with me and stayed for over 24 hours! But it was a refreshing, much-needed change and something I am glad to have done.

The train pulled out of Bombay Central station around 8:30 am and we arrived in the coastal town of Dahanu, on the Maharashtra-Gujarat border, around 11 am. I was given a raincoat, something I had last donned as a school kid in the '80s!, and I wore it to protect myself from the steady downpour (ha!). Not only did I get drenched riding pillion from Dahanu station to the farm, so did all the clothes in my bag (proving to be a major source embarrassment for the entire duration of my stay!). But if you think I'm going to launch into a crib fest, this is where it ends, I promise! The rest of it is all good.

Mr Caramel looking suspiciously suicidal in this picture!

By the time we arrived at the farm, it was 11:45 am, and I was introduced to two beautiful boys whose given names I do not like and so will refer to them as Caramel and Mousse instead. I was told that Mousse takes a while to warm up to strangers, so I should refrain from petting him initially (of course they are dogs! who else would I call beautiful?). But surprise, surprise (not!) he warmed up to me instantly and we were inseparable until I left. (I miss you... you soft, creamy, delicious little darling.)

Mr Mousse, my current heartthrob.

The Farmer deposited me in the hospitable hands of the caretaker and his wife and sped off to pick up the guy who had brought the bike to the station so that we could ride in on it (if you think that's complicated, wait till I tell you what we did on our way back to the station the next evening!). I thought I'd have a long wait until he returned, but I barely had I made the couple of mandatory phone calls upon reaching and the Farmer was back. Come, he said, let me show you the place.

And show me he did... 7 acres of gorgeous, green land bursting with the fruits of his labour... literally. There isn't a single thing he doesn't grow on his patch of paradise (I can't think of anything better to call it)--from red rice and pulses to all the vegetables and fruits you can think of, including cashew apples! I was transported back to my favourite place in the world! Just as green, beautiful and soothing, a place that instantly relieves you of all the baggage you carry (and in the Farmer's expert opinion, I carry a lot of baggage!)  

A glimpse of the 7-acre lush paradise.

He urged me to remove my footwear and walk barefoot so that I wouldn't fall in the slippery, wet fields but he conveniently forgot that just a couple of hours earlier he had put the scare in me by 'informing' me about all the slithery creatures I am so fearful of and repulsed by! No way was I walking barefoot and no way was I letting go of his hand. I lied and said I needed it for support in case I slipped in the muck, but I was all set to push him on top of the first reptile that crossed my path! I guess I'm equally scary and repulsive to the vile creatures, because nary a skin-shedder slid towards me that day, or the next.

And so we walked all over his farm with the rain beating down on us, raincoats still on, although wearing them was pointless as we were soaked to the bone. Mousse scampered all around us, sometimes leading the way, sometimes lagging behind, and sometimes just being the goofball that he is and getting in our way. We climbed to a patch of land that's a bit higher than the rest and the Farmer told me that this is where he plans to build a house that will double up as an organic getaway for city folks. Do you think it's a good idea, he asked. Do I like dogs? I wanted to shout back. Of course, I do! It's a fabulous idea. (The next day, while we were having lunch, he said when the place is ready I can manage it for him. May I have that in writing, I asked.)

View from the roof... and I will always laugh when I look at this picture... the Farmer knows why :-)

He showed me everything that he's growing... turmeric, ginger, drumsticks, lady fingers, onions, cucumbers, bottle gourd, colocasia leaves, jackfruit, papayas, bananas, mangoes, pineapple, the chikoos that Dahanu is famous for, coconuts, grapefruits and even sugarcane! There's a whole lot more, I just don't remember now! I just stopped for a second to catch my breath from the excitement, and said, "You know how you dream about doing something and then you actually see how it can be done?" I couldn't help thinking how perfect it all seemed, especially with Mousse running around... he just completed the picture for me. "You just have to plan and work towards it. You can have your own farm in a few years," the Farmer said. And therein lies the problem with me. "It's too much work though, can't I just come here whenever I feel like it?" I asked greedily, and he just laughed (I was seriously looking for an answer tho!).

Since it poured the rest of the day, and at night as well, we couldn't really do much. We had lunch and then napped for a bit. When I woke up, it was still raining and breezy. I stood at the door and looked out. The Farmer was sleeping on one of the cots outside, Caramel and Mousse were cosy in their spots, the caretaker was up and about while his wife brewed some lime leaf-infused sweet black tea, and the wind blew a few drops of rain my way every now and then. I felt a slight chill as well. But I stood rooted to the spot, staring out into the fields, looking past the rain water being collected in the big plastic drum, and felt something I hadn't felt in a long time... I felt at peace. Then we sat outside the entire evening and chatted away until sundown. I suddenly remembered that Dahanu is by the sea and demanded to be taken to the beach. Of course, my idiotic request was gunned down. "In this rain? Maybe tomorrow..."

Freshly plucked drumstick leaves from the moringa plant. That's a super food y'all!

The next day was comparatively dry and I barely caught a glimpse of the Farmer for most of the day. We chatted for a bit after waking up and then, like Superman in his cape, he bolted out into the fields to harvest the rice crops. He'd keep coming back at intervals to show me something beautiful or give me a taste of freshly plucked fruit. I spent most of the morning chatting with the caretaker's wife, sipping on her lime leaf-infused black tea, and helping her prep for lunch by plucking tender drumstick leaves off the stalks (it actually took me over an hour to do it!). She turned it into a delicious stir-fried side for lunch, with just a hint of garlic, onion, green chillies and garnished it with crushed peanuts. It was sublime! Of course, I didn't have a choice and ended up eating a whole lot of carbs as well the entire time I was there. The gluten especially messed up my mood before we left and I found myself struggling not to slip into that horrible well of gloom. But luckily it didn't last too long and I was back to normal on the train ride back into the city.

The last picture I took of Mr. Mousse before leaving.

I was in complete chill-out mode (happens to me as soon as I get out of the city and go someplace fresh and green) and didn't bother walking around as I normally do. Besides, the thought of those slithery creatures being about the place kept haunting me so I decided to play safe and stay close to civilization! Oh well, there's always a next time to walk around and explore more, right? (now you have to give me an answer, Mr. Farmer!)

The perks of being a 'capitalist' with naive farmer friends.