A Weekend in Gokarna: The Art of Doing Nothing
Somewhere between the clamour of city life and the call of the waves, I found something I didn’t know I was missing: absolutely nothing.
The Need to Escape
I didn’t go to Gokarna with an itinerary. That was the point.
After months of juggling deadlines, dodging traffic, and scrolling through a never-ending barrage of notifications, I craved an escape — not just from the city, but from doing. I wanted a place that didn’t demand sightseeing, ticking off lists, or chasing sunsets just to post them on social media.
That’s when I stumbled upon Gokarna.
Nestled on the western coast of Karnataka, Gokarna is often described as Goa’s laid-back cousin — less commercial, more spiritual, and just chaotic enough to remind you you’re still in India. But what drew me there wasn’t the temples or the treks. It was the promise of peace. And space. And the rare permission to just… be.
So if you’re looking for a Gokarna weekend itinerary packed with things to do, this isn’t it. But if you’re curious about how it feels to spend two days doing nothing — and loving every minute of it — then read on.
Day 1: Landing in Laziness
The Train that Slowed Me Down
I took the overnight train from Bangalore to Gokarna Road. Something about train travel already starts to slow the world down — the rhythmic clatter of the tracks, the chai breaks at random stations, the strange comfort of watching the world roll by in soft-focus.
By 7 AM, I had arrived. A short auto ride later, I was dropped at my stay near Kudle Beach — a tiny bamboo cottage, no air conditioning, no TV, and patchy Wi-Fi. Perfect.
Kudle Beach: My First Couch
Most people “do” Kudle. They walk the length of it, hit the cafes, take a dip, maybe sign up for a surf lesson. I, instead, found a beach-facing shack, ordered a cold coffee, and flopped on a reclining chair laid out in the open. And then I stayed there for five hours.
I watched the waves like some people watch cricket. I watched couples fight and make up. I watched dogs dig endless holes in the sand. I took naps. I read one chapter of a book. I did not check my email.
I think this is what luxury is: time that belongs to no one else.
Lunch with a View (and No Rush)
There’s something magical about eating when you’re not hungry but just want to taste something good. At around 3 PM, I shuffled over to the next shack and ordered a lazy lunch: a spicy prawn thali, garlic naan (don’t judge me), and a mango lassi.
I sat with my food for over an hour, not because the service was slow (it was), but because I had nowhere else to be. No phone calls. No meetings. Just me, my plate, and the sea.
Day 2: Sunrise, Solitude & Serendipity
Om Beach at Dawn
I don’t know what got into me — maybe the ocean whispered it in my dreams — but I woke up at 5:30 AM. By 6, I was walking to Om Beach.
The trail was quiet, the kind of quiet that amplifies your thoughts at first, then gradually silences them. The kind of quiet where you can hear your own breath and believe that maybe, just maybe, the world isn’t so loud after all.
Om Beach at sunrise is poetry. No crowds. No chaos. Just a few other early risers, some practicing yoga, some sipping chai from flasks, and a few lost in the moment. I sat on a rock and watched the sky change its colors like a slow, deliberate painter.
And I thought — this is it. This is the art of doing nothing. Being so present in a moment that you don’t want to leave it.
A Temple Without the Tour
Later that morning, I wandered to the Mahabaleshwar Temple. Not because I felt compelled to tick it off my list, but because I felt curious.
There’s something grounding about temples in coastal towns — the scent of incense mingling with salt air, the quiet reverence of barefoot pilgrims, the low chants that vibrate in your chest.
I didn’t take any photos. I didn’t google the history. I just sat for a while in the cool stone shade, grateful for the calm.
The Lazy Lunch Ritual
Back at Kudle, I returned to my favorite shack and ordered the same prawn thali. The staff greeted me like an old friend — probably because I hadn’t left the beach in two days.
A stray dog napped next to my table. A group of college kids sang badly to a ukulele. I smiled at all of it.
Hammocks > Highlights
I spent the afternoon in a hammock. Literally, the whole afternoon. I dozed. I read. I watched a coconut fall and narrowly miss a scooter. (The universe has a sense of humor.)
That hammock did more for me than a month of therapy.
Why Gokarna Works
1. It’s Okay to Opt Out
In most places, not doing the “top 10 things” feels like a waste. In Gokarna, it feels like a win. No one judges you for skipping the treks or not temple-hopping. In fact, many people are doing the exact same thing — chilling, napping, reading, staring.
Gokarna normalizes stillness. That’s rare.
2. Nature Does the Healing
You don’t need a spa when you have the sea. You don’t need a schedule when you have sunrises and salty air and starlit skies.
Gokarna reminds you that nature isn’t just pretty — it’s potent. It realigns something inside you.
3. It’s Inexpensive Mindfulness
A weekend in Gokarna doesn’t need to be expensive. My cottage cost me less than ₹1000 a night. Most meals were under ₹300. And yet, the return on investment — peace, clarity, rest — was priceless.
No expensive retreats. No wellness influencers. Just real, raw rest.
Travel Tips for Fellow “Do-Nothings”
- When to Go: October to March is ideal. Avoid peak monsoon unless you love rain and solitude to the extreme.
- Stay Simple: Pick beachside shacks or guesthouses near Kudle or Om Beach. The closer you are to the sea, the better.
- Pack Light: You’ll mostly be in shorts, slippers, and floaty cotton things. Bring a good book and leave the laptop behind.
- Disconnect: Network is spotty in most parts — use it as an excuse to unplug.
- Don’t Overplan: Seriously. Let Gokarna reveal itself to you. The best moments happen when you’re not chasing them.
Final Thoughts: The Joy of Just Being
I came to Gokarna expecting to relax. I didn’t expect to recalibrate.
In a world obsessed with productivity, it’s radical to rest. It’s powerful to say, “I am doing nothing,” and not feel guilty about it.
Gokarna taught me that. Or maybe it reminded me of something I’d forgotten: that I am not a machine. That being alive doesn’t always need to be proven by output. That watching waves and having a refreshing drink can be an act of healing.
So if you’re tired — not just physically, but soul-tired — go to Gokarna. Don’t go to sightsee. Don’t go to tick off a bucket list. Go to rest.
And if someone asks what you did all weekend, tell them this: “Absolutely nothing. And it was everything.”
