Revelation

I lay in bed that evening, listening to the joyous screams of the tourists on Juhu Beach, I wondered at this path life had chosen for us. In many ways, life in Mumbai was not so different - rag pickers made sure recycling wasn't just a buzzword but an enterprising, flourishing business that sustained the environment but also provided for a family; fashion was unique - every sari adapted to size, shape and mood; businessmen rushed to work carrying coffee cups and calculations in their heads, yet, in spite of these things, India has an 'otherness' which is hard to define. Everybody seems purposeful, eager to carry out the tasks for which they feel they have been created but, there is a spirituality that weaves itself through even the most glossy, or mundane, of tasks. Temples grace every corner, blossoms wend their way sinuously around roadside shrines and incense permeates the atmosphere, reminding us all of mortality and the multitudinous layers of this life and beyond.

Mumbai had bewildered me, leaving a startling array of images to bombard me as I wandered into the adjoining room to check on the children, who were no doubt dreaming of all they had seen and heard that day. I remember lifting the curtain, pressing my fingers to the cool glass and hoping that I would be able to find a way to bridge these worlds I would move between from now on.

The following day we made the brief flight down to Goa, barely having time to sample the savoury snacks on board before coming in to land. Bright sunlight dazzled me as I stepped out of the plane, I shielded my eyes and smiled. The Goan spirit of 'sussegado' had slowed everything down, fellow travellers shouldered backpacks easily, gazing around them whilst we bathed in the warmth that had coated our skin like treacle. Security guards smiled lazily, patting stomachs gently rounded by their fish/curry/rice diet as we made our way to our driver, Baba, and the villa we were staying in as Coco Shambhala was not quite ready for its first guests ...yet.

Once established in our villa, we all started pestering Giles, eager to see how the build was progressing. His slightly reluctant acquiescence to our demands had me worried, but, as soon as the children were safely ensconced in the van, I tackled him - was there a problem ? He assured me that there wasn't, he was just worried about showing 'the unfinished product' so to speak. I had seen the pictures - and been round enough fixer-uppers to know that any viewing comes with an understanding that this isn't IT - imagination has to do some (ok, a lot) of the work for you. I think Giles had this vision of me standing at the gates with some beautiful silk ribbon and silver scissors, snipping through the barrier before gasping in wonder at a completed Coco Shambhala, but I was well aware of the delays and decisions that had taken place and so, I thought I was prepared ...

Baba hurtled through the roads of Goa like some demented Lewis Hamilton, seeming to ignore the alarming tilt of his van as he swung into bends (usually on the other side of the road so oncoming traffic proved a bit of a problem) and the shrieks of elderly pedestrians as they (foolishly) attempted to cross the road within metres of his vehicle. Cows, motorbikes, scooters were avoided through sheer luck and finally, we arrived in the charming village of Nerul.

As we drew up outside the gates of Coco Shambhala, I was surprised by the noise, or lack of it. Although the entrance was filled with vans and scooters, the workman's tools were strangely muted, almost seeming to respect the environment in which they were working. Chatter, light and unsubstantial, reached my ears; the musicality of the Konkani language drifting across the site accompanied by giggles from the worker's children. Giles led the way through a shady path and I closed my eyes thinking (in a very 'Gavin and Stacey' way) - 'Oh my Christ - what if I don't like it ? What if it is nothing like I imagined ?' Doubts were racing through my head at a million miles a second, at which point, Giles glanced over his shoulder and I pasted on my 'isn't this exciting ?I'm sure I will love it' smile on my face, nodding encouragement to the children as they clamoured to race ahead.

And then, it happened. Without warning, I turned a corner and the site opened up in front of me like a revelation. I actually had no words, I just stood, drinking in the site of what my wonderful, talented, determined husband had accomplished. My heart swelled in my chest as I realised the amazing effort that it had taken to bring this dream alive, the laborious, exhilarating journey from scribbled ideas on a beermat to reality. Four villas stood like proud sentinels around a sensuously curved swimming pool, their angled roofs sweeping towards the floor whilst white walls showcased their perfection. The children disappeared into the nearest villa, roaring their approval as they ran from room to room whilst I turned in a circle marvelling at the design, the sheer size of this creation.

Taking a breath, I stepped into Ashvini, the villa closest to us. It was everything I had imagined and so, so much more. The jacuzzi area was cool and inviting. Dappled light reflected off the surface of the water, allowing shade to harmonise with the different elements of the room. The master bedroom was sumptuous, airy and, if Baba hadn't been laying on the concrete slab of the bed, grinning - very romantic. I wandered upstairs to meet Loulou, the tour de force that is Coco Shambhala's interior designer. Having heard all about her, I was amazed by this diminutive woman with her golden skin and gorgeous clothes who barked orders like an army general. Seeing me, she skipped from her perch on the stepladder and embraced me, Belgian fashion of course, enveloping me in tingling silver bangles and mischievous attitude. She dragged me over to the balcony - 'Look' she commanded, her arm moving to encompass the site, 'Isn't it marvellous, darling ? Hasn't Giles done a wonderful job ?' I nodded, too blinded to see through the tears that had suddenly clouded my vision - yes it was, and yes, oh yes he had.