During Q2 2022, I signed up for a 3-day surfing training course in the heart of the Arabian Sea, Mulki. It was the Day 3, I had just finished dinner at the surf camp.
I had come solo, didn't know anyone at first, but by now there were familiar faces. 3 days of 4-hour daily surf training had ended. We were tired. The good kind of tired. Skin burnt, bodies sore, but hearts full. That night, after dinner, a few of us were sitting quietly. Just talking about how fast it all went by.
Suddenly a girl came running towards our dining hut and said
"Guys… the backwaters are glowing."
We stared at her and laughed while asking "Glowing? As in… actual light?"
She didn't laugh. Just said, "Come and see."
I don't know why, but something felt off already.
I remember a cat nearby screaming. Not meowing, screaming.
And the insects around the trees were louder than usual, like someone turned up their volume.
We laughed it off, but I was a curious and a bit nervous at the same time.
Still, I followed him and went there to check.
I was gonna take my phone as a natural habit, but kayaking usually means water, splashes, getting wet and I didn't want to risk it. So I left it behind in the room.
We crossed a narrow patch lined with coconut trees and reached an old temple. Just behind it was the entry to the backwaters, where we could begin kayaking into the dark.
It felt like no one had stepped there in years.
The backwaters were right in front of us. Pitch black, still, no sound.
Me along with two more surfers pulled out a few kayaks from the side.
I didn't know what was coming.
We stepped into the kayaks and slowly pushed off.
The moment I dipped my paddle in the backwaters, the water lit up.
Yes! That girl was right. The water was actually glowing up. A visible neon blue colour.
It looked like stars underwater.
Neon Blue sparkles trailing wherever I moved.
I'd never seen anything like it.
It's called bioluminescence, I found out later.
Tiny creatures in the water that glow when disturbed.
It's a rare phenomenon observed in coastal areas.
But at that moment, I wasn't thinking about science.
I was just… quiet.
Half amazed.
Half scared.
Then came the thuds.
Fishes hitting the bottom of my kayak.
Again. And again.
Harder than you'd expect.
There was something terrifying about that sound.
As if the river didn't want us there.
And I won't lie. I was actually scared.
I had this feeling that I wasn't supposed to be there.
Not in a "haunted" way… just this weird tension.
Like the river was watching.
The glowing continued.
The fish didn't stop.
I kept paddling. Quiet. Still trying to act okay.
At one point, I looked around, stars above, glowing water below, and that silence all around.
I felt tiny.
I felt human.
And I felt like the river was letting me in, but also warning me not to go too far.
There were no photos. No videos.
We were in the backwaters for a couple of hours and went straight back to our surf camp.
I didn't sleep well that night.
Not because I was scared. Just something about the whole thing stayed with me. Even now, I don't fully understand it.
Or maybe I don't need to.
Some things are better left unexplained.
Sometimes the world shows you something that's both beautiful and a little haunting. Just enough to remind you that you're not in control. That there are still places, even in this over-photographed world, where the mystery is untouched.
That night taught me something simple:
You don't always need answers. Some experiences are meant to leave you wondering.
No one at the surf camp believed us when we told them. Maybe you won't believe either. And maybe that's exactly how it should be.