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| Beach Sculpture |
Lovers
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| Picnic on the Beach |
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| First Aid Station |
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| Screwdriver at Sunset? |
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| To Freshen Up |
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| Chasers for your Poison |
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| A Child Friendly Beach |
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| When a Rock Will Simply Not Do |
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| Salon Facilities |
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| Kandinsky Painting |
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| Going about my business |
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| Exotic Cuisine |
Would have received a free coffee, had I picked a sizeable quantity of glass and plastic, on my return.
This seems to be the policy of a few places of stay, dotted on the wild coast.
But the few are shut down. Quiet.
And daily I encounter vast strewn heaps the tide has brought in.
I pick up, and on the long walk back wading through the shallow lagoon, glance around; it seems so futile and hopeless.
You need entire villages to clean up this growing and breeding Polysaurus, mainly floating from India.
On such a walk at dawn, I do not realize crossing some sort of marker posts, on the empty beach in the direction of Mannar.
My eyes are on the far away dot of land, and a man in a bright T shirt appears from nowhere in front of my path.
He has a dog. I have a dog.
His dog looks menacingly at me, but cannot resist Quenella.
There is room for play and I brighten up considerably at the thought of a chat.
This is how I meet Suresh, who thinks I am foolish or another smuggler on a fact finding mission on this Coast of Many Foreign Trade.
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To be continued...
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