How to feel at a Chennai beach : A friendly guide

Find a spot that’s not too littered and allows you a clear view of the ocean. Lean back and take a moment to absorb the endless waters laid out in front of you. A silent second to take in the fact that this is your backyard for the next three weeks (You've signed up to volunteer at the Madras Crocodile Bank Trust, because you think reptiles are awesome. Bonus: their backyard is the beach. Literally.)

Watch out for the water – lie near enough the ocean to feel the suspended drops of salty water settling on your face, but not enough for the fleeting waves to touch you. DO NOT FORGET - your bag is behind you, it has your phone, Kindle, reading light, research data sheets (you’re obviously participating in a research project about Mugger Crocodiles at the Croc Bank) and marine life field guide that you picked up from their awesome herpetology library (Ocean life fascinates you, remember?)

Sit and observe for a while, give the Bay of Bengal your attention. Notice the way waves form and fall, and are followed by more. Let the shy crabs with raised eye pieces (yes, raised eye pieces, I’m not a scientist) lining the shore catch your attention. Oh, they’re burrowing. They seem to be wary of you.  They’re moving swiftly-really swiftly-how the hell do they move so fast?

Remember that they’re adapted for living in the ocean by the shore, because evolution. Congratulations, Cap'n Obvious! Knock yourself for not knowing this as factually and familiarly with every fibre of your being as you should. Wonder what else is interesting about crabs – you read in The Hungry Tide that crabs are cleaners and strip sand of the decomposed matter on it, and are a crucial link in the shore's ecology. Be fascinated again.  Pull out your marine life field guide, open to 'Crabs'. Flip, flip; nope, none of these crabs are the ones you saw. Perhaps you’ll ask the nice people back at the Croc Bank which crab this is. (Remember, they're happy to answer, so try not to self filter questions that sound stupid.)

Let time drift by the waves, the water; it’s getting darker. It's a full moon, the ocean looks magically different within a span of forty minutes. There’s a spotlight in the sky, and it’s glistening over the ocean. You suddenly realise that you can’t see the entire ocean, only a small fraction, and that this light is shining all over the infinite waters. Wishful thinking of viewing this from the top whilst airborne. Back on land, watch the clouds play with the moon and cover it, blurring its shine; watch the slow dance of the moonlight slowly skirting across the ocean. You're thinking to yourself, you will write about this, but you'll never be able to quite capture this moment with your words. Take a picture with your phone camera and feel professional as hell. Feel validated by all the Instagram likes. Know that in your heart this is the easiest place to take a good picture, skills were not involved.

Lay back and feel the beach loving dog's bum dig into your back. He loves the beach, runs to the waves, doesn't realise there's a slope and rolls over multiple times.(In case you hadn't figured, you also love dogs). Walk nearer to the waves, feel them wash your feet. Familiar sensation of sand digging in and sliding down, burying legs in soaked water, possibility of living creatures under you - feel the salt, shells, silt brushing by your feet. Let go of anxieties and allow yourself to get lost in the cliché for a while.

Now go visit yourself, jeez; I can’t keep telling you how to feel about the beach.