A connoisseur of classical music would wonder why a composition meant to be performed in the late hours of the evening could be heard at dawn in the Khandeparkar farmhouse. The pair of singers may be easily mistaken for a mother and daughter expressing their morning devotion with the rendition of the song "Ganapati Vighna Haran Gajanan" set in Raag Hamsadhwani- Madhyalaya Khyal, the senior lady accompanied by Sanyukta on the tanpura. The two had connected instantly due to their shared passion for music. The previous day while she had been chatting with her Mrs Khandeparkar had explained how her love for music had been stifled by her mother-in-law who objected to her singing as long as she was alive because back in those days the Kalavant or artist community of Goa which gave the country some of its most gifted singers, along with their music were associated with the Devdasi tradition and professional singing was considered only their prerogative.Because of the stigma attached to it children from non-Kalavant Hindu families were often discouraged from pursuing music whereas their counterparts who studied in schools run by Christian missionaries either learned vocal or instrumental Western music because it was mandatory at school. 

On hearing this Sanyukta's own thoughts drifted to how Renuka would never approve of her performing on stage for the same reason, because Rajput nobility who patronised the art as a shauq also associated singing and dancing with the nautch girls and tawaifs. Sanyukta was aware that if she wanted a future with Randhir she would have to make certain compromises. However when her hostess made her an offer to join her in the morning riyaaz Sanyukta gladly accepted. Already she was feeling completely at ease here, like a daughter who had returned from her sasural or marital home to her maika or natal home. This maika was as good as it would get, she knew she would never be welcome in her own father's home. As much as she missed her mother she had no regrets, she had Randhir in her life and that made up for all she had left behind. At least now she could speak to her mother occasionally, unlike before. 

When the singing was over Sanyukta followed her hostess to the yard bearing a wicker basket, helping her gather the fragrant white bakul flowers, locally know as ovala, that were strewn on the ground by the early morning breeze. When Sanyukta mentioned her attachment to the night jasmine her hostess told her how both type of flowers  were considered appropriate for use in worship because neither needed plucking from the tree, they were given by nature freely. She showed her how to string bakul garlands using coconut palm fibres. They also collected some golden champa flowers from the tree in the garden. While the hosts got busy with their morning puja Sanyukta headed back to the room to check on Randhir, realising he was just getting off the phone and looked high strung.

 As she bolted the door behind her he grabbed her and kissed her urgently, sloughing the clothes off her skin, and teasing her taut peaks with his fingers. He then pushed her on the bed belly down, and hitching her hips up he began to slurp her up eagerly. Much as she enjoyed it when he put his hard-working mouth to her south she knew right now he was compensating for something that was playing on his mind. She stifled her groans as she felt the familiar clenching while she peaked, and the next moment she felt him thrusting deep inside her, working himself into a frenzy. For a moment she panicked remembering he had forgotten to use protection but by instinct he suddenly pulled out of her and rushed into the bathroom before he climaxed. She followed him a few moments later with her slow footsteps, and found him in the shower, lathering himself. He pulled her close as she joined him, assuring him that she would be there for him no matter what. As his fingertips flirted with her sensitive spots again he told her had spoken to his mother and things were a bit tense but he had managed to handle the situation somehow. 

In a few minutes they were all having a Goan breakfast together. There was alsanyachey tondak or curried red cow peas also known as fejiao, eaten with warm pao delivered by the poder or the breadman, besides fresh papaya and melon. They were also served a delicious spongy sweet pancake called surnoli made from a batter of rice, poha, jaggery, coconut and yoghurt, served with white butter. After a heavy repast Mr Khandeparkar took them out on boats in the lagoon where he led them toward the crab traps he had set the previous night and to their surprise they could see over a dozen crabs in varying sizes. His helper carefully tipped them into a plastic bucket and taught them how to identify females among the lot because they would contain roe. The boats then turned toward a nearby beach where the local fisherfolk called raponkars were collectively hauling in their nets to offload their fresh catch of the day. It was exciting to see the fish still alive and trying to leap off their nets on the golden sand. Their host pointed out several varieties of fish along with their local names. Finally they picked up silvery vellis or anchovies and chonak or giant sea perch to take home.

After they got back they changed into their swimwear and went for a dip in the cool waters of the quiet lagoon. They had their second bath in the morning in the very basic bathroom in the back yard, it was a structure created by putting up woven palm fronds, and the bath water smelt smoky as it was heated over wood fires. After putting their swimwear to dry Vidushi, Parth and Randhir lazed on the hammocks beneath the palm trees while Sanyukta went to see the prep in the kitchen. She learnt how to clean crabs and cook them Goan style. She tasted warm rice gruel called pej, also with a smoky taste of wood fires, served with tender coconut meat and mango pickle. Mr Khandeparkar had got them fresh palm toddy that was sweet and tangy with just a touch of alcohol, to accompany the rawa fried anchovies and the delicious boneless fried chonak fish. Lunch was crab curry and rice with fried  breadfruit or nirphonos chips, rounded off with nutmeg flavoured geen or kharwas, a steamed colostrum and milk pudding, which was possible because one of the farm buffalo had calved. Traditionally they would not serve a milk-based dessert after a fish meal but that day an exception was made. 

The heavy meal had made them all sluggish and they had no desire to step out immediately. They had never imagined their holiday would be so relaxing and yet fun, having enjoyed an offbeat experience the average Goan tourist would never dream of, and they prepared themselves for their second Goan siesta. Later they would set out sight-seeing, but now their bellies were full and just like the cat napping by the fireplace they let sleep consume them, there was no need to rush, Goa would wait to be discovered.