The indicator on the top right corner of the phone was on the brink of turning from green to red - a sure sign of an impending blackout. With a heavy heart I realised I would have to abstain from selfie bingeing.

But that, of course, was much easier said than done.

Before me lay the bewitching Kudle beach of Gokarna in Karnataka. Neon lights - green, blue, red and yellow - adorned the row of shacks like magic crayons against the canvas of the shore.

And as the waves, repeatedly pushed by the tide, stretched themselves languorously on the smooth sandy surface, the neon lights painted colourful masterpieces, each different from the last, making us gasp at all this natural artistry.

Forgetting about my phone's powerlessness, I whipped it out, switched to camera and went click, click, click. Some more click-clicking and the phone bid me a premature goodnight, refusing to come alive even at the sight of the dinner spread comprising wood-fired pizza, sumptuous fish steak and a prawn platter with a fancy and unpronounceable name. Gone too was the customary group picture at the entrance of the restaurant, jazzed up with disco lights against the vast sea, which was nothing more than a pitch-black wall spitting waves of water.

I cursed myself for not including a torch in the must-carry list while packing for the six-day trip and also for forgetting to charge the phone the whole day.

I was now dreading the climb to the hilltop and tried to summon courage enough to face the darkness that stood before me like an intimidating mountain. I got the phone out and tried to wake it from its deep slumber, but to no avail.

With no option left, I exhaled and started to scale the hill with the rest of the group. We had but one phone torchlight at our disposal and even that was severely wanting in energy.

Behind us, the wild waves lashed against the stubborn rocks, their sounds mingling with the music from one of the eateries to create what sounded like a long goodbye whisper. I paused for a second to look back on the scene and absorb the memory of the illuminated corridor before getting on with the eerie climb.

Suddenly, out of nowhere a stray dog appeared. I stood still with fright as he walked past me. But it went a couple of steps ahead of us, and stopped and from that distance looked on at us as if to say - "Come now, follow me. I don't have all the time in the world."

His eyes glowered like marbles. I decided to follow the lead of the alpha dog.

But I was still confused about this canine intervention. And my mind kept shifting between trying to decipher the situation, keeping pace with the others and escape falling into the claws of the darkness that seemed to be following us like a pack of hungry wolves.

The dog was making swift strides along the curves and bends of the walkway lined with trees on either side. We struggled to keep pace with him on the uneven surface, trying to catch our breaths and mind our steps.

He - I noticed - was pale with white patches and had a deformed hind leg, which gave him a permanent limp.

Meantime, stars had ganged up in the night sky, and were watching us from above. They blinked every now and then, but could not quite manage to pierce the dark blanket. Our leader, however, was unperturbed.

"Look, he is waiting for us," said one among us, when we stopped for a minute's rest. But once we got nearer him, huffing-puffing, he resumed his lead nonchalantly and we submitted to his silent commands.

And though little was said in the balmy dark, I know everyone wondered about the same thing - where did this dog come from and how did he know that we needed help.

Finally, we were there, at the resort. The alpha dog sat at the huge iron gate, upright, as if to say - "Get on with it now. Get in. And don't go loitering again."

A friend patted his head, tweaked the ears. I stood awhile and wondered. And then, a little awkwardly I mumbled in the dark - Thank you very much.