Of Strays and Solace

Amid monsoon skies and empty shores, the free-roaming dogs on Goa's beaches became my unexpected companions through grief and silence

- Rohit Chawla

WHILE EVERYONE I knew was retreating behind shut doors to escape the pandemic, I sought refuge under the monsoon skies of Goa. Except for a few stray dogs, the beaches were deserted, the clouds portentous, the sea a repository of stories that ebbed and flowed into the great Arabian Sea, only to be lost among countless other stories.

Someone dear to me died that year for want of oxygen. Many others I knew were silent, out of reach. I was unaccustomed to the feeling. I'd been photographing people for forty years and travelling was the only constant I knew. So when the lockdown was first announced, I was bereft of ideas as to how I was going to construct my days and nights.

Unable to reconcile with talking to the walls or walking in circles inside the house, I coaxed the erstwhile Hotel La Amore at Ashwem beach to open up a sea-facing room for me, which they did, with the caveat that I would have to fend for myself as their staff had gone, the kitchen wasn't functioning, everything had shut down.