Palolem Beach, Canacona, India

The taking of paradise: A bloodless coup...


No-one working in the Visa office really noticed the increased number of applications.  The stamping of passports had become second nature.  The dull thud thud of stamp into ink and onto passport had developed a hypnotic regularity. Barely imperceptible increases in speed - a little less ink on the stamp, a little more blur in the passport - kept the 'Waiting to be approved' pile at the regulation height.

"Our country most popular, sahib"
"Yes, most definitely'

No-one managing the Visa office really noticed the ever upward trend in the number of processed and approved applications. "Good weather, advertising campaigns and several good press reports" read the variance analysis submitted to head office.  "Nothing further to note" it concluded.  Investigations meant delays and delays meant wasted time and money - ever the Damocles sword to such an efficient set-up.

No-one really noticed the trickle turned flood of pale skinned invaders flown in week by week followed before long by day by day.  From all four corners of a small square they arrived, completely conspicuous in their surroundings they were thus completely inconspicuous as tourists. 

No-one really noticed as the beach slowly disappeared daily under a tide of towels.  Each nation sent forth it's finest to make the morning land grab long before the first rays of the sun could be seen or the first hint of its warmth felt.  Base camps were established in strategic positions each and every day and guarded with vigour from those who could not disguise their covetous gaze.  As the sun climbed in the sky so the bodies climbed the beach, a human carpet of lightly frying bodies.

No-one really noticed the two new bars, three new hotels and one shopping centre being built.  With architecture motivated by speed and cost, considerations regarding appearance came but a distant and really quite perfunctory third.   The complete incongruity of the new buildings ensured they blended in perfectly.  In a vista of unfinished concrete and peeling paint, several more blots on the landscape made no impact at all.

No-one really noticed as the English pub pulled its first pint and showed its first football match.  Alongside the German bakery and the French delicatessen helping to ensure home was never too far away.  Burger and chips replaced local fare and a heritage of sobriety gave way to a tradition of drink.

No-one really noticed as the opening hours grew ever longer and the closing hours ever shorter.  The excesses of the night before slept off the day after in the cool shaded interior of the hotel, a rapid recovery imperative for the next night's assault.  The base camp stood depleted but never unmanned.

No-one really noticed the broken bottles scattered on the beach, nor the blood spilled as friendships built on drink had turned to enmity borne of a drink too many.  Glances thrown with intense and strained indifference bore testament to the hollow moments of lust and empty proclamations of love made but hours before.

No-one really noticed that paradise just wasn't paradise anymore.