Kerala: The Romance continues...

Where’s Ayakkad, Maa?

2005-05-11T01:15:00.000-07:00

Ayakkad is a small village in the rural out-backs of Trichur in Kerala. Three decades ago, the place was filled to the mark by Brahmins. But then suddenly the need to go to cities for a livelihood took precedence and there was a mass exodus. The nearest town is Palakkad. The area is surrounded by green mountains with a strange flavour of the yellow sand you see in the neighbouring state of Tamil Nadu. Ayakkad was a part of Tamil Nadu and the four Brahmin families that are left behind still speak the Tamil dialect of Malyalee script.
Ayakkad has three ponds. One is a huge pond infested with water snakes and surrounded by coconut trees, where the respective genders take respective ends of the pond which has recently acquired a stone walled exterior. The snakes look cute but if you are bitten by the water snake than the local remedy is to fast for a day.
Of course, the speckled band which we saw outside the village temple has no remedy only death, in 2 minutes. The speckled band was first mentioned in Sherlock Holmes’ book by the same name. There are other huge snakes that are non poisonous.
Oh these snakes are so much like women. You never know which one is lethal.
The second pond is deep and has dried out. The oldies say that there was a huge python in there just around twenty years ago. This is exactly behind the temple. It is a fertile piece of land which has banana trees and coconut trees that look menacing on moon lit nights. This is Mowgly country.
The third pond had a crocodile that ate the cattle every now and then. That was thirty years ago. This is opposite the temple and today is filled with lotus leaves and millions of snakes.
The temple is beautiful and makes wishes come true. Lord Ganpathy has granted this people all their wishes. And the faithfuls still come back every year for the annual function.
But I forgot the fourth pond which was actually used for bathing just about fifteen years ago. My friend in his school days bounced inside this very pool like a monkey. This pond is in the middle of the fields, which are again filled with snake holes and there’s a river on the other side.

Kerla at last.

2005-03-02T09:08:00.000-08:00

I did get my beauty sleep. And talking of exotic foods in Southern India; I had five kinds of wadas. Let’s see Mendu (the one with the hole), Banana wada (if you have it once in your life that’s enough) which was seething in oil, Onion, Dal and Bonda. And the winner is Bonda in Calicut. Bonda has an edge over potato wada it has a dry onion, garlic currie in it.
The crescent moon was still winking at me when Kerala came. And suddenly the landscape opened up with rivers and coconut trees everywhere. That’s what KERAL (in local language) means; The land of coconuts.

The lady in the next compartment, who I had mistaken for spice was actually a pain. Her cacophony in top treble kept life moving and other people’s conversation stagnant. The Eunuchs could not scare me into giving money.
Anyway forget her. Kerala is here.

Cooler because of a cold wave in the North, which has Bombay shivering; I hear. The dawn shadows of coconut tree right out of a James Bond movie namely Dr. No have given way to a morning filled with all tshades of green. And I mean all shades. Even Corel Draw would not have done a better job. The gold is there in the skies and will be pilfered by the afternoon. The clouds are gray and then the green like a multi-spendour dream broken by occasional red flowers. And grey fences. The fisherman are early birding for the fish. The storks or are those crane, are flying in elegant grace.
Let’s be fair to Panvel and the Konkan. It is equally green there but Coconut tree are curiously different from the palms.

There is a variety of green at display. Vineyards, red contrasting yellow and green. There’s smoke on the distant hills and water every 3 minutes. I can be in a pond forever. I can eat curd rice with minute slices of green mango spicy pickle forever. The small tar roads with cyclist and lungi clad people romping the ramp. Mossy stone walls. Big old bridges; small old bridges. Man with kids wearing red caps. Mountains and a stretch that goes on and on punctuated by coconut trees.

Daytime Scenery

2005-03-02T01:24:00.000-08:00

Daytime Train to Kerala: The journey continues

Konkan Railway is a new addition to the world’s largest network in India. The British can be thanked for installing the network, if one is in the mood. Last time I had crossed this terrain I had mentioned a million tunnels. But I think I was slightly mistaken. There are 200 odd. Land slides are common and the rocks are tied by net wires like huge sharks (and just as menacing. However, I was in a gay mood. No pun there. and found myself singing Dire Straits out of the blue. The tunnels do inspire Rock. Pun there.
And then the beggars came. An emotional attack on the heart. But luckily I have none. The Chicken Biryani and thought of going to Kerala made my Indian trip worthwhile. The Diva Mountain reminded of a time when I had tracked to Haji Malang from Ambernath, a mere 50 km affair. Also in the same trip I had climbed the temple in Diva. The Thana Bridge reminded me of how we had scaled Bhimashankar heights: 7 hours to the top. Train brings a certain nostalgia and turns you into a 12 year old. Gapping at tunnels, waving at people: feeling sorry for them, thinking of Mario Miranda’s cartoons. The picnic to Vasai fort. Trivandrum during Murali’s wedding and Padmanabhan temple. The king of Kerala and how I was stopped from jangling the bell because it is the temple of sleeping Vishnu. How Umesh came to my rescue in Tamil. That white lungi. I like the way Emma pronounces it. Last time I had passed this place there were coastal, misty waterfalls and before that Mrs. Iyer had brought the Curd-Rice with small mango pickle. All of a sudden we are in Konkan.
On the way back I will be toying with the idea of buying a house in Chiplun because there is so much water. For now I will be recharging Vishy’s mobile at Chiplun and Ratnagiri in tea stalls and station master’s office.
Travel has its moments. My first foreign trip was to Bangkok in 89 and I remember how the 11 o clock sunshine seemed golden.
Last time Sam and I had bought lungis in Ernakulam. I brought it along just in case. Last night I slept in peace thanks to an antihistamine. My work on the web has been so addictive that I have forgotten to sleep. That’s the thing about my life. If don’t do something for 3 days, I forget about it. Someday I may rediscover it.
The Barren yellow, yellow, light green landscape has started. The cacti have made their presence. I buy some bottled coconut water. Can you beat that? Yeah… Cacti are at times nicer than flowers. They store water and are hard outside soft insides. Appealing eh? These coastal people are same everywhere. I’m thinking Samoans. They have their coconuts and their colored floral luva luva. Their love for straw furniture and typical green colored walls.
The train is bellowing smoke. Even that pollution is romantic. Crazy aye? I romance places. They remain etched in my mind. The small lanes of Bulsar. The heat of Ahmedabad and cricket in cobbled streets. The farmers follow the scorch earth policy to prevent soil from turning lifeless. This was first brought to my notice in Matheran, where I had biked with Mohan. He pointed out the distant plains from one tree hill. The nature is everywhere.
Sheep and shepherds. Trees with roots hanging out. Sounds bizarre but looks awesome. Yellow cream rural office houses. Red post boxes. Well there is no camera so you will have to do with words for now.
Luckily Vishy’s mobile is roaming so called mom twice. The waters are becoming cleaner. The palms are here. Did you know Bombay was an island once? Then the waters were clean. Now the waters are gutters.
It’s night and sleep is evading my shiny eyes. A line from one of my poems. The police are up and about checking for liquor bottles. So they can have some. It’s 4.30 and I’m in Mangalore. Reminds me of Reshma. A rare beauty. Udipi. This is where all those south Indian restaurant cooks come from. They train in a temple in Udipi, Mangalore and get their spice right. I think I will sleep.

The journey begins

2005-02-25T16:11:00.000-08:00

When Mallus (nick name for Malyalees, the people of Kerala) go to their villages, they go back to clean environment and fresh air. This advantage is obliterated for other parts of the country.
As for me, Kerala is the favorite-most place on Earth. I am thrilled to go back.
Making last minute entries is an art perfected by me. Must be all those Bond movies. I must break this habit of reaching on the dot. Vishy is waiting for me with his bag on wheels at Kurla Terminus, where I have reached thanks to four trains at various junctures. One of which I had to leave because of the 4-glass-water-therapy and Oh-God-I-got-to-pee syndrome.
2 minutes to departure is when I arrived. As soon as I saw those South-Indian woman eating their idlis and malgapudi, I knew I was on the right train on the way to my first rural spot in Kerala: Ayakkad. The train is dirt free. Certainly, South Indians are a cleaner breed than their northern brothers.
Wow! I love this trip. Kerala here I come. Oh Kerala.

The train stutters (with a bit of love) to a start as I notice buildings on the Central railway have this black soot, which if scratched can destroy your nails. The question being, why on Earth would you wanna do that? The train moves on and my heart is singing. We call Arun and ask him to meet us directly at Ayakkad in Kerala but he can’t make it. Damn. Last time when I had taken Ernakulam-Allepey-Cochin-Kumili-Tekkady-Kottayam-Ernakulam-Cochin-Alapuha-Kaldi-Malayatoor-Periyavoor-Aluva-Mumbai trip, I had taken the 11.40 night train. This 11.40 morning train will allow me to see all the places I had slept through last time.
Oh! Kerala if heaven ever had a name. The Wada-coffee people are selling their stock from the train pantry as I order Chicken Biryani. I also have my first mouthful of dal wada and ask him for chutney because I need the spice; which came in a form of a dark Goan woman in the other compartment. I asked the fellow to forget the chutney.