Where the Soul soars like an Eagle
The
Goli Baje and the
Gadbad put a song of good cheer in our hearts. My cousin and I agreed a visit to the beach would be a great way to end the afternoon. Neither of us even thought of Malpe. It has become too touristic and is no longer the same beach we longed to go to in our childhood days. I suggested Maravanthe. My cousin proposed Kapu instead as it is closer to Udupi. I had only a vague recollection of going there when I was probably 5 or 6 years of age and a blurred image of a lighthouse was etched in my memory like this old and fading photograph from some archive.
We took the NH17 towards Mangalore and somewhere after Katpadi saw a sign indicating that we were 3 kilometers from 'KAUP'. I am yet to crack the mystery on why it is spelt K-A-U-P although I can swear I have never ever heard any one call it by any other name than Kapu. Either it was misspelt while recording the name for use in official maps, or perhaps it has something to do with the British who had the incorrigible habit of changing the original names of any place they could lay their hands on. To their credit, we must thank them for putting a lighthouse here.
We kept going till another signboard on the highway indicated that we had to turn right to get to the lighthouse. A narrow road led us through the village and to the beach and the lighthouse. We could only catch glimpses of the sea on the way as there are houses and shrubs blocking the view. When we arrived, to my surprise I found there was a parking area with attendants, a shop selling snacks and cool drinks and even a shack bar.There were at least 25 vehicles including tourist buses parked there. Looks like the long tentacles of tourism has reached even this gem of a beach tucked away near a remote little fishing village in Dakshin Kannada.
We go to Udupi every year and sometimes more than once. I now saw what I had missed all these years. Talk of going to Kapu did come up during some trips, but we never took the trouble to make a visit happen. My cousin, a mumbaikar, moved to Udupi 10 years ago to set up a business of his own, but never visited Kapu although he had been to many other beaches on this belt. When I asked him why, he grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. I parked my car and we made our way to the beach. There towered the lighthouse, tall and proud on the hillock of black rock. There were people bathing in the sea completely oblivious to a signboard warning. My cousin marvelled at the quality of sand which was fine and white. The cove looked pristine. Some fishing boats parked on the sands and the eagles hovering above added an artistic touch to the view.
An Hindi speaking man collected Rs.5 as entry charge and magnanimously told us we could take pictures although it is prohibited. The winding stairway took us to the lantern room at the top where we stopped to marvel at the giant beacon of light that sends out signals far into the sea to steer ships and boats away from marine dangers. I could not help overhearing a gentleman explaining to his family that the streaks of light from this lighthouse could be seen from as far as South Africa. I am not sure if he had been witness to the phenomenon when on a visit to the South African coast, or if it was the result of his imagination getting fired at the sight of the giant apparatus of powerful lights and lenses that emits the life-saving signals.
We stepped out of a little door on to a narrow observation deck running round the lantern room. After an initial feeling of vertigo, I got used to the height and looked around. My heart was overcome by a surge of unexplainable sensation. Two curving white beaches span long on either sides of the lighthouse like giant wings as it suveys the vast expanse of the Arabian sea before it. My soul soared as I beheld the panorama. I find it difficult to describe in words the beauty of what my eyes recorded or my emotions thereof.
My cousin awe-struck by the magnificent views. 
As we reluctantly climbed down the stairway, I knew I had to return here with Sonny and my wife on our next trip to Udupi. I turned back one last time before we left the hillock and saw the setting sun behind the dark clouds cast a surrealistic glow on the Arabian Sea.
