A Tale of Two Beaches

Last year I had written an article for a prestigious publication called 'Indo-Oman' for their annual issue which is published every November during the National Day here in Oman. Its about a place near Muscat which bears the same name as my hometown in Goa.

In Indo-Oman, we read about Heads of States and big businesses. But what about the common man’s views? Here is a common man’s uncommon journey down memory lane…

A TALE OF TWO BEACHES

I was driving on the Sidab road in Muscat on a Friday morning looking for the familiar sign I had seen so many times. I finally reached it at the turning that said “

Haramel Road

”. I had been wanting to go on this road for a long time and finally had taken time out just for visiting this place called “Haramel”.

 

A view of the Haramel beach off Sidab, Muscat

Wondering what’s the big deal about wanting to visit this place? The reason was purely personal. I come from a village in Goa in India. Goa is famous for its beaches and attracts large number of tourists. My village has one of the best beaches in Goa with the added attraction that it is relatively unspoilt. This village of mine is also called – Harmal ! (Tourists would be more familiar with its anglicised name – Arambol). Imagine my surprise then, when I saw a sign of the same name in Muscat!

I have since found out (through a project I was associated with in that area) that there is one more village / area called Haramal in the south of Oman. I also found that ‘Haramal’ in Arabic means a small tree or a shrub, typically desert shrubs. Although, apart from rhyming with my first name, Harmal in my native language doesn’t have much meaning.

  

Goats seeking shelter from the sun, Haramel Muscat



Thinking these thoughts, I drove down the winding road to Haramel. It turned out, as I had expected, to be a small fishing community. Some anglers were taking their boats to the sea, already late as the sun had started to show its strength. A sleepy little hamlet (but then everything looks sleepy on a Friday morning), isolated from the main city by couple of hills.

 

Harmal beach, Goa



 

 I went up to the beach. The shore, the boats, the men struggling with the ocean’s might, the whole scene looked very familiar. And in my mind’s eye I could see a similar scene unfolding. Early mornings on the shore, there is always a purity in the early morning atmosphere…the soft drone of the ocean …a tentative seagull making a quick landing on the water …the music of the waves suddenly broken by the boats coming back with their catch…the fresh fish lying on the shore ...shining in the morning sun like flashes of silver …men with wiry muscles and concave stomachs trying to eke out a living …

Standing on a jagged mound jutting into the sea, there it struck me. The fish and the men both are same on either side. It is just a little expanse of seawater separating them.   These are not foreign lands. This is just the opposite bank. And on both sides of the sea I have a Harmal. Now that’s a comforting thought!