I am not one for the seaside — the forests call me more often. But Pondicherry changes all that. Our guesthouse is in French town, amidst grand heritage buildings, their blue doors and ochre walls mimicking beach sunsets. I am taken back by the abundance of trees and flowers in this coastal city. Sea-grape trees line the beach road, and are just starting to fruit. Frangipani, Bahunia trees, and bougainvillea are in bloom everywhere. An entire avenue is covered by a sausage tree, its gourds hanging like lanterns. We walk a lot, we have relaxed dinners in restored mansions, we stay out late on the beach and eat the perfect gelato. Our day-and-a-half seems to stretch out languidly. Island time. I think I could get used to it.
About the Author: Suchi Govindarajan works as a technical writer and pretends to be a photographer. In her spare time, she enjoys writing humour pieces and poetry. She hates brinjals. You can read her work at http://www.suchiswriting.
I dare you. Go on, name one person who doesn't like The Jungle Book. Nobody? That’s what I thought too.