Amitabh
Shukla
Kerala
is truly a microcosm of India and has everything which a person in leisure is
looking for—beaches, backwaters, cuisine, culture, forests, hills and wildlife,
waterfalls…the best which nature has to offer.
Known
for its cultural traditions dating back to centuries, you can find almost
everything you asked for, here in this
state—coconut trees lined up for miles, banana plantations till your eyes can
see, plantations of spices of all hues, tea gardens looking like carpets on the
hills, beautiful hill stations, the dance form of Kathakali, Ayurveda treatment
and massage, the famous boat race, martial art of Kalaripayattu, backwaters
which criss cross through the entire state, golden beaches which line up the coastal
state, magnificent temples of Sri Padmanabhaswamy, Guruvayoor and others.
A
leisurely break in God’s own country was on agenda for long. Finally it
fructified as I flew into the Thiruvananthapuram airport which locals continue
to call by its earlier name of Trivandrum one fine day with the evening
temperature on the mobile app showing a comfortable 26 degrees.
My
former colleague Shaji Joseph, now a resident of Trivandrum, had sent his newly
acquired Blue car with a driver to the airport to receive us. It wasn’t
difficult to locate Ayyappan, the driver, as the Blue color of the car was
quite distinct and he ushered us in the car, which had the smell of newness all
pervasive inside it.
Within
half an hour, we arrived at Shaji’s well kept house in a slightly hilly part of
the city and a smiling family welcomed us. Shaji had been a colleague when I
was working in Ranchi and he had been a veteran journalist in both Bihar and
Jharkhand for a decade and half before shifting base to his home state of Kerala.
Now
he is an expert of North Indian politics for several Malayalam TV channels and
is happy in his new role.
After
being treated to a sumptuous Kerala cuisine, which seemed heavenly after the
industrial aircraft and airport food, we remembered old colleagues, our
rendezvous in the past, particularly on one Holi when he had consumed Bhang at
my place in Ranchi and roamed around the colony for hours, we left for our
service apartment which I had booked online. It was a decent apartment with a
small kitchenette and all amenities for a comfortable stay.
After
waking up early next morning, I chalked out the itinerary of the day, called up
a taxi driver and gave details of the places to be visited. Identifying himself
as George, the taxi driver quoted his rate and it was agreed on.
As
we left Trivandrum city, Sivagiri Mutt was the first destination of the day,
close to the popular Varkala beach. The tomb of social reformer Sri Narayana
Guru, who propagated the philosophy of a casteless society in the early parts
of the last century, is located here and the devotees were chanting in unison
from a booklet. It’s a huge Ashram where devotees can stay and the sea is just
across a cliff and the cool sea breeze blows round the clock.
Now
George had assumed the role of a guide. He had an impeccable Hindi, having
worked in places like Meerut for 10 years and in Delhi for another decade
before returning to Kerala to start driving the cab of an online aggregator. “I
am still trying to settle down in life at the age of 56,” George said, handing
out his visiting card, which showed him as a LIC agent. “Sir, why don’t you get
an insurance for your kids?” he said, doling out the benefits of the scheme. “I
will take a call,” I assured him, just to change the course of conversation.
Within
no time after Sivagiri, we were on Varkala beach. It was hot at this time of
the morning even as the clock read only 11. A few foreigners were enjoying
themselves on the beach, a lone fisherman was trying his luck, a few local
children roaming aimlessly and plenty of clueless beach dogs were trying to
hide below the beach recliners to save themselves from the scorching heat.
I
headed for a beach recliner with attached umbrella and just spread on it,
watching the waves hit the shore repeatedly. There was a certain pattern in the
waves crashing the shore, a musical sound was there for a connoisseur, there
was poetry involved and so was a dance form. Closing the eyes for a moment, I
could visualize how this has been happening from time immemorial and will keep
happening for hundreds, thousand and millions of years. “This is
immortality…the sea is immortal…so is the sky, nature. Human beings are such a
small part of this giant scheme of things,” the thought came to my mind.
As I opened my eyes, the waves were still
hitting the shore and I thought that this pattern will be repeated for billions
of years to come—all times to come. I focused on the distance where a ship was
sailing, a fisherman’s boat seemed standing still, and nearer a group of water
birds circled and were looking for an unsuspecting prey. Behind the beach was a
cliff which enhanced beauty of the area, on the beach a couple of sadhus had
perched themselves with umbrellas on, perhaps to feed the curiosity of the
foreigners and get some alms.
It
was time to move on for a lunch and then to a ferry ride in the Poovar
backwaters and Poovar Island cum beach. The slow moving motorboat crisscrossed
beautiful natural canals as it made its way ahead. The flora and fauna—mangrove
belt besides the waterway and a variety of water birds was mesmerizing indeed.
We waived at other tourists on a boat ride and they waived us back; our eyes
were witnessing the same magic which nature has to offer. The boatman was now
giving a running commentary in his broken English heavily mixed with Malayalam.
But I was engrossed in watching the beauty of nature, the moving boat, the
water crow, the meditative posture of a crane waiting for his time to strike at
a fish and get his meal.
The
destination—an island – came and the
boat was parked and we made our way to the beach through knee deep water with
small fish poking at the feet, giving it a tinkling sensation. The sea here
looked dangerous and deep and that prevented us from going any further. But the
setting sun in Poovar was magical, the unique colour of sunset on the golden
beach, miles of backwaters and mangrove forests and coconut trees lined on the
side, made it a special evening. And then, it was time to return back to the
service apartment after bidding adieu to George. In between the drive, I knew
almost everything about him—his three children, wife working in a private
company, mother and his struggle to buy a house and pay the EMIs.
Ayyappan,
the driver who picked us from Trivandrum airport, was scheduled to come early
next morning with his SUV and was to be with us throughout the trip. He was on
time and we had packed our bags. He placed the bags at the back of the SUV and
we settled down and went to the famous Sri Padmanabhaswamy Temple, the presiding
deity of which is Lord Vishnu and it is considered to one of the wealthiest
temples of the country with several vaults which has offerings in gold and
precious metals from centuries. The temple dress is dhoti and that is what I
wore as I queued up along with other devotees for a darshan.
Then
we headed to Kanyakumari in the neighbouring Tamil Nadu, a little over 3 hours
of drive from Trivandrum. Ayyappan was extremely talkative and gave a good
account of his exploits as a driver. He was a VIP of sorts, a former Border
Security Force employee, who was deputed to the Special Protection Group (SPG)
which guards the Prime Minister, former Prime Ministers and their immediate
family members. He described how he had driven former PM, I K Gujral and was posted with Sonia Gandhi
and her family for 3 years and has experience of driving all types of vehicles,
specializing in armored ones, can make 180 degrees turn, smell danger etc. “I
am privileged, I told him…”. He smiled back, “Sir, I was born to drive and took
to wheels at 14 years when I did not even have a license,” he answered.
The
drive from Trivandrum to Kanyakumari is practically through cities, one town
after the other on the highway and vast expanse of urban areas. That is typical
Kerala—the highways are the principal abode of the people in the densely
populated state. Ayyappan, however, realized that the route had become too
boring and he took a diversion and this time it was besides the villages and
the sea where he drove. We could see the vast expanse of the Arabian sea,
fishing villages, small temples, churches and mosques and of course the
signature coconut trees.
We
arrived at Kanyakumari in Tamil Nadu when the sun was high in the afternoon and
settled in the hotel. When I saw Ayyappan now, his thick hair was gone…instead
a bald man was smiling at me. “Sir, I use a wig and it is hot here…my children
have forced me to wear a wig. I bought it for Rs 12,000. There are four clips
and two stickers to fix it,” he quickly gave me all the details of his wig.
Ferry
ride to the Vivekananda Rock Memorial and Thiruvalluvar statue is on the
itinerary of everyone and I was not an exception. The sunset from the
Kanyakumari temple was beautiful but it was crowded. Next day was for temple
visit and then for witnessing sunrise for which thousands of people had
gathered in the temple complex when it was still dark. First there was dawn,
birds started chirping and soon the brightness increased. The sun gradually
rose in all its glory from behind the Vivekananda Rock Memorial, presenting a
sight which would remain etched in memory for a lifetime.
Having
quality tea—milk and tea leaves are boiled separately and sugar added to taste,
made the morning special. Packing, loading luggage in the vehicle and then
having Idli-Vada and Coffee at a roadside eatery was the last of Kanyakumari.
Now, we were headed for Rameswaram—Lord Rama’s own territory where the exploits
of the Ayodhya king and his victory over the demon king Ravana are narrated by
everyone.
Ayyappan
was born in Tamil Nadu and married to a Malayali. He was a multi lingual and
his skills were very useful while talking to people in Tamil Nadu. Now he had
kept his wig in his bag and was all shining. He uses it only when he enters the
municipal limits of Trivandrum, he told us.
Even
before checking into a hotel, a priest Raja Swami had been informed and he
advised us what to do and what not to do for the morning prayers next day at
the famous Ramanathaswamy Temple. The spacious hotel was 100 metres from the
main gate of the temple and an easy walk. But now, it was time to go to
Dhanushkodi—the abandoned town on the tip of the Rameswaram Island from where
it is said, Lord Rama and his army went to Lanka for that victory of good over
evil. What a drive it was—sea on both sides of the road and newly laid two-lane
bitumen shining and leading to the edge of the country. And there it was—the
last point—an expanse of sand, small islands in the vicinity and all the
characters of the serial Ramayana came live. I could hear the loud voice of
Ravana, ridiculing all his rivals, the gentle smile of Lord Rama, the anger on
the face of Laxman and Sita being held captive in Lanka. I remembered the
childhood stories which my grandmother told me when she visited this place and
Rameswaram way back in the 1970s.
The
sun was setting and now, I had no option but to leave this magical surrounding.
The Dhanushkodi town was there on both sides of the road—abandoned railway
station, church, temple, houses, water tank…still more remnants of the town are
emerging from the sea. There was a massive cyclone over 50 years ago which had
destroyed it and the town was declared abandoned. A fishing hamlet has come up
over a period of time now and the male folk venture into the sea for their
livelihood while the women, children and the elders either sell fried fish,
cold drinks or necklaces made of sea shells.
It
was time to catch sleep for early morning, 5 am visit to the Ramanathaswamy
temple, as directed by Raja Swami. The majestic temple has huge columns,
massive corridors and the architecture is something to marvel at. “Elephants
can walk in these corridors,” Swami, the 40 year old priest told us.
From
one well to the other—there are 22 wells in all—the morning bath was something
to remember. A small bucket went inside each of the well, a temple attendant
poured water and we moved on to the next wall. “All sins have now been washed,”
announced Swami, after we completed the ritual and went for the darshan of Lord
Shiva, one of the 12 Jyotirlinga.
“See,
nothing grows in Rameswaram. No food item can ever grow here. Temple visitors
should donate grains for the custodians of the temple,” Swami announced, after
all the ritual were over. Obviously, he was looking for a decent donation,
which he actually got due to his services offered.
Bidding
adieu to Rameswaram again after Idli-Vada-pongal and Coffee, we head towards
Meenakshi Temple in Madurai, almost four hour drive. After a quick darshan,
just before the doors close in the afternoon, we head again towards Kerala now.
This
time, it was the hill station of Munnar which was on our itinerary. The driver
said it will take almost five hours as the road was under repair in some
sections of the Munnar hills. “Fine, we will have one last lunch in Tamil Nadu
in this trip,” I told him. After looking at several roadside eateries, we
finally checked into one—this did not have a name, nor was there anything
written in English. Our driver- cum- interpreter Ayyappan helped us choose the
menu of the joint, just outside the town of Theni. We were floored by the
hospitality of the eatery—they offered us to taste various kinds of rice they
had cooked so that we could make an informed choice. Lemon rice, coconut rice,
curd rice, tomato rice…all was brought out by the cooks and the staff. We
tasted all of them and it was simply amazing. This was followed by a very well
made glass of tea. It was incredible eating here, as the staff and the owner
made us feel that we were their guests in their home. The bill was too small,
the taste still lingers and the hospitality was simply amazing. The owners
waived us off as we got into the cars, we waived back at them.
On
the 2-lane National Highway 85 now, we came to an abrupt halt soon after the
lunch as a group of men stopped the vehicle. A groom and his bride were
crossing the road and going to their village. Their convoy of vehicles had
stopped and all those in the wedding party were proceeding to the village.
A
big goat was in front of the procession, being held to the rope by a man. The
rest of the men were carrying wedding gifts on their heads—shining utensils of
all varieties, furniture, etc. “The goat is a gift from the bride’s family for
the party tonight at the groom’s house,” said Ayyappan. Pointing at the rest of
the items, he said this was dowry. “This is very common in this part of the
country. I am also saving for my daughters,” he said.
Small
hills were now all over the place along the National Highway and soon we
started the climb. The landscape kept changing every 100 metres until we were
in the territory known for its spices and tea gardens. Entering a garden of
cardamom for the first time was an experience to cherish and so was plucking a
fruit eating it and getting that wonderful flavor. On the way, Ayyappan,
stopped at several places to show us the tress and plantation of spices of all
varieties, rubber plants and what not. Truly, this was god’s own country.
Arriving
at Munnar soon after sunset and opening the car doors made us feel cold. We
weren’t prepared as the outside temperature was around 18 degrees, cold as per
Kerala standards. We settled at a suit of Kannan Devan Guest House, the company
which runs several tea plantations in the Munnar region and was previously
owned by the Tata Group.
The
evening was spent strolling in the busy part of the small town, now overgrown
with plenty of tourists, hotels, guest houses and vehicles. “Tea and tourism is
the main source of survival of the region,” explained Satheesh, who owns a gift
shop selling local souvenir, particularly plenty of homemade chocolates.
Early
morning, it was time for me to explore the place on foot. The weather was cold,
cloudy and wonderful with some sign of fog. I wore two T shirts to beat the
cold and explored all parts of the small town, chasing away a couple of stray
dogs who found it strange that a tourist was on a morning walk at 6 am in the
morning and welcomed me with incessant bark. Armed with a selfie stick to scare
away the stray dogs, I was confident and saw shopkeepers cleaning their shops,
newspaper vendors distributing the dailies published from Kochi, the drivers of
tourist vehicles, lazily getting out and cleaning their cars. Soon, it was time
for the well dressed school kids to come out to board the school buses. That’s
normal life in any part of the country…despite the diverse languages, dress and
cuisine all of us are the same in all parts of the country.
Munnar
sightseeing was for next day. Visit to the tea leaves processing factory, tea
gardens, spice gardens, Mattupetty Dam, ferry ride, Echo point, Top Station,
waterfalls…the list is endless. Description would not do justice to some of
them nor would any picture. It has to be seen so that it becomes a part of your
visual eco system.
After
two memorable nights in Munnar, it was time to head back to the commercial
capital of Kerala, Kochi or Ernakulam. Fort Kochi, Chinese nets, a sumptuous
fish meal at the Marine Drive, visit to the oldest church of the region and
back to the Hotel, walking distance from the airport… the trip was now coming
to an end. I made the payment to Ayyappan, hugged him and bid adieu, promising
to visit Kerala again.
As
we headed for the airport early in the morning by the drop van of the hotel,
the memories of the trip were vividly etched, more so, when waiting for the
announcement to proceed to the boarding gate.
It
was at the boarding gate that I spotted Zareena Wahab, just behind me in the
queue. We got talking. She had no airs about herself despite being a star in
the Hindi movies of the 1070s. “I still keep listening to Gori tera gaon bara
pyara, main to gaya mara……Jab deep jale aana…O Goriya re O Goriya re…” I
narrated the songs which I could remember of the films in which she had starred
then when I was a child and films the only form of visual entertainment. She
smiled. “Those were the days of music and simplicity,” she said, having played
the role of village belle for long, she was the perfect person to say that. She
was in Kochi to shoot for a Malayalam commercial. “Some Malayalam films and
commercials keep me busy and I keep coming to Kerala,” she said, asking is the
places we visited and offering here opinion about those places. We boarded the
bus to the aircraft together but had separate seats for the Hyderabad bound
flight. That was the end of an excellent but brief conversation and also the
trip to God’s Own Country. (May 7, 2018)
