The first thing I hear is the hum of the backwaters beyond my window. The sky is still ink-blue, the air smells of wet earth and salt. I tie my cotton lungi, grab the net I learned to fold last night, and step into the canoe.
Raju, my fisherman guide, and I glide through silver water. Fishing here isn’t done with rods — only a circular net and perfect timing. One arc, one splash… and then the wait. Moments later — the shimmer of pearl spots, tilapia, and crabs.
Back on shore, we dry the nets and mend small tears. Raju’s fingers move like clockwork — steady, sure. We talk of monsoons, moods, and good catches. A toddy tapper walks by, waving. Everyone knows everyone here.
Brinda fries pearl spot in sizzling coconut oil. The air fills with turmeric, pepper, and tamarind. Rice, fish curry, papaya thoran — all served fresh in clay pots. The spice burns; the joy lingers.
By sunset, we drift again, not to fish, but to feel. Lanterns flicker on houseboats; jasmine scents the air. I smile — I’ve lived the backwaters, not just seen them. Experience it yourself — at akoyabeachvilla.com