I don’t remember when it got dark that evening. The coconut palms lining the beach were silhouetted against a pink sky first and then pitch darkness, punctuated by dim lights flickering here and there. Our Beach Villa was definitely not on the beach. It was in a narrow lane up a hill away from the beach. We drove past the deceptively cheerful white picket gate down an all-too-short drive in front of a squat two-storied bungalow. We were greeted by a man in a T-shirt and shorts, who turned out to be our ethically-challenged caretaker for the next two days with a curious staccato way of speaking. We deciphered two things eventually from him--we were the only guests at the villa for the weekend and there was no dinner. While spreading ourselves all over the villa presented no problem, food was a definite problem. We intrepid city slickers set out to find food. To our chagrin, there was no food in Kashid and no food in Nandgaon, the next village. We found a kitschy bar complete wit...