The beach was empty. A lone dog with sad beady eyes trailed me up and down the sand. The sea was slumbering but the calm, I knew, was deceptive - the Arabian Sea can be treacherous in the monsoon. The fishermen grouped together on the far side of Sindhudurg's Tarkarli beach know this well and, on days like this, do not venture out to sea in their tiny wooden boats. Today, like every other day in the wet season, they must have let out their nets from the beach early in the morning. I watched at noon as they hauled the nets back, inch by painful inch. I had spent an idyllic morning at Tarkarli - studying rotten logs bobbing on the waves, inspecting the superbly located (almost on the beach) but unimpressive MTDC resort, admiring the rain clouds regrouping over the horizon and, of course, watching the fishermen draw in their catch. But my trip to Sindhudurg, Maharashtra's lush southernmost district, had begun on a rather different note two days before.








