Letting loose (lose?) in Bali…

Not too long ago, I had a ticket to Bali, and now like everything else that passes too quickly, that too is just a memory. But, what a happy memory it is! Of sunset weddings, and nights and days in a swimming pool, and a happy-reckless revelry that can only ensue when several cultures collide.

I cannot think of Bali without thinking of Eat, Pray, Love, and I cannot help but think of how her hope has failed me; in the two trips I have made to Bali, ravaged just as deeply from life, she has offered little love. Eat, yes. And, pray yes. For there is nothing as soul-stirring as the perfect Nasi Goreng on Jimbaran, watching airplanes cross over sea and on to an air-strip, nothing closer to God. But, love has lost its way.

In Canggu, the night of the bachelorette, I am admittedly awkward. I am the oldest, and the most staid: my stories of recklessness are about as bold as hopping onto the bus to Pune one Sunday morning! In twenty-nine odd years you’d think I’d have a better story to tell…

We really let go that weekend. Sink our feet into the sand, swim in the rain, make friends with strangers in a night club, buy shots for everybody at the bar, and walk into a supermarket at 3 AM to make our own mi goreng.  We ride Bali’s unfamiliar streets, wind in our hair, climb down to a lonely beach at night, spend a whole evening giggling over unmentionables and exchange poetry with people we will never meet again. Then, I grab a coffee alone, and at ease in a bar…

In that moment, I vow to live freely. Hop on a plane, miss it altogether, try everything & let loose…

In Bali, I learn, to finally, lose.

“It all goes away. Eventually, everything goes away.”
― Elizabeth GilbertEat, Pray, Love


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