By Rahul Banerji
“Dude, there’s a golf course on the property,” Sharat called to say with happy surprise in mid-September. “Don’t know the details yet, but there is one!”
Being an alleged golf gyaani, I was a little sceptical.
Goa has two known courses, one at the Lalit property and the other on the Navy base in Dabolim. But a third at an a largely-unknown resort? Hardly likely, and if it was there at all, it would probably be some grassy patches being passed off as a golf course.
Instead, you could have knocked me down with a feather at the first green itself.
And that was not the last surprise Caravela Beach Resort had in store for the AFCS Batch of 1980.
The OC and its resident Mr Helpful between them had whittled down the chosen few destinations from a long list of possibilities before the final tick-off on the decision was taken our energetic local busy-body.
By his own admission, Sunil Malik was floored when he saw that gorgeous atrium lobby, all high ceilings, elegant friezes, giant wooden fans, and a matchless airy ambience.
As were we all. Walking down the grand staircase, past the dining area and a vast, well-maintained and administered pool that included a swim-up bar, Caravela continued to open out as a vista to the Class of 1980.
Paved walkways through neatly-mowed lawns led up a slope opening on to the wide and welcoming Varca Beach that would over the next three days become the centre of much activity — long group and solo walks, sea dips, morning jogs, afternoon shack parties….
And philosophical, late nights lit up by bioluminescent-laced waves and a glass of urrak!!
But that’s just one part.
The other, more important one, was the renewal of our annual vow to meet, celebrate, rejuvenate — and party. On every count, our three days at Caravela were an unqualified success.
The ballroom was the early centre-of-gravity, a place to pour the first of many drinks down the throat, and collect our stylishly-curated goodie bags put together by (applause please!!) Nandi, Vaishali, Kirti and Manish — helpfully packed by Vivek G. and Mr Bat-Ears — before gearing up for the night’s festivities.
Guitar Man Sudhanshu as always held centre-stage on an evening fuelled by excellent food and drink before Songbird Sonia stepped up to hold us spellbound late into the night with her sentimental melodies.
Punctuating the vocals was some pulsating dance music where the regulars, and some unexpected stars emerged — Gyrating Grover, Powerhouse Patil, Rambunctious Rajan and our ever-graceful girls — whose large numbers elevated this gathering as rarely seen before.
In between, Chef Prasad and chief henchman Gangadhar were efficiency personified in catering to all needs — including satisfying a few demanding carnivores — before brewing up some much-in-demand solkari and masala chai.
Beach walks, runs and a round of golf — marshalled by the estimable and amiable Deepak — were the kick-off to a busy Saturday that also saw the annual group photo-shoot with all its sub-plots — ladies only, section-wise, groups of choice etc, etc.
Full use was made of the beach shack thereafter with it’s excellent bar which kept a stream of beverages flowing. A dimly-recalled lunch followed, which was the prelude to the evening’s highlight — a cruise on the Mandovi River.
So off we went to the bright lights of Goa’s big city, with stops for backup booze and a bonus haul of hand-made choris sausages. Along the way, a mis-firing bus, a pair of cracked shoe-soles, some sing-song and non-stop banter kept things interesting till Panjim Jetty.
It was Saturday night fever thereafter on board our little vessel as it thrummed and throbbed its way up and down the broad reaches of the river. An open top deck was the perfect setting for relaxed conversations and cigar sessions while the lower level served as a combo of discotheque, karaoke bar and stage for a dash of spicy Goan culture.
Sunday was D(eparture) Day and soon our chats were flooded with messaging about check-ins, departures, arrivals and journeys home. I was summoned into the bowels of Dabolim Airport because of “suspicious” baggage that turned out to be more neatly-packed meat and fish than the poor inspector had seen in a month.
All of which, in essence, sets things up very nicely for the Class of 1980s next reunion — ahead of which a huge thank you to the OC, every volunteer and participant, without whom none of this is possible.
The chemistry gets better and stronger year on year, so Viva and Saude to us all.
