Imperfection of Perfection

Imperfection of Perfection

It was three days long seminars and session, I had been through. At the end of third day, I felt like I passed from university. I had heard about a beach or rather an island 'Sentosa' in singapore. It was my third and last day in singapore. I never yearned for going to shopping malls or wandering around exquisite Arcade out there. I felt all that quite plastic.. man made places made rarely for needies but for hypocrites by hypocrites. I was neither needy nor hypocrites so I abhorred entering in it unless I am dying with hunger... Well, I was burdened with three long days of university and wanted to shirk off that as early as possible. No choice could be better than 'Sentosa'.

Cab left me at the entrance of the island. I boarded, the private bus of Sentosa. I was alone and the bus was empty. It is rare experience for a metro guy to travel in a bus empty unless its too late at night. But here noon sun was scorching overhead and the bus was quirking through small hilly roads of Sentosa. After around ten minutes, I reached the beach, the 'Sentosa Beach'. As my feet touched the ground, I felt it quite odd that it wasn't sand. It was a soil similiar to my hometown in Uttar pradesh. There were few directions for the beach. I followed it as If I was playing some computer game. Finally, I saw empty sky, blue ocean(after travelling 7000 miles from Homeland, again Indian ocean) and gray sand.

There were babes, ladies, couples, families and stags. Beach was full but not as full as it used to be in Goa. Well, Let me not be the judge for this, as I went on weekdays. Palm trees, Coconut trees were systematically grown as if somebody has arrayed it in predefined fashion. Not a single dead leaf can you find on coconuts branches. Not a single fallen leaf. All trees were marked as if they will be wiped out after some time. Not even a inch more sand tresspassing the foot path. I suspected if the fishes were cultured or naturally present. Small satellite island, an islet was bit distanced hanging in pure oceanic order. Wooden suspended bridge was formed between beach and the satellite island, with entry as closed. The wind moved but dead. The waves struck the sand. It looked dead. The whole crowd were enjoying a dead beach. It was so perfect that it looked plastic... highly man-made.. It lost the naturality. There was no sound in the wind. It moved as though in cemetary. I couldn't spend much time in that icon of perfection and left for some hot shot mall nearby. Perhaps, it was full-fledged superficiality, the temple of capitalism then half-humane , half-natural, mere perfection of Beach of 'Sentosa'.