Sunset from Varkala Beach ...

We would descend the perilous steps to Varkala Beach an hour or so before sunset - the auto rickshaw would take us past the temple, with its sacred pool and ancient banyan tree, down to the helipad -

My eyes were hidden by my sun glasses - I wore a bright green shirt - Anne and Sophie shared tender confidences - 

On the beach, we laid out our thin towels on the fine sand - a few yards away, a Japanese boy and his sister waved away a vendor of pineapple - 

We leapt into the exciting waves, ignoring Debra's warnings about rip tides - our bodies were wreathed in foam - we launched ourselves into the warm Arabian Sea like devil may care mariners - 

I heard a man play Summer Time on a gentle trombone - he was standing on the cliff edge, outlined against the sky -

The sun moved towards the numinous horizon - 

I closed my eyes, dreaming of prehistoric beaches, empty save for placid ammonites - 

The young women assuming yoga poses became enigmatic sirens - their shadows were lengthening moment by moment -

We pulled on our clothes, walking barefoot upon the glowing sand -