The Enquiring Traveller

Kerala Day 1: Kerala Here We Come! A Bit of Everything En Route to Thrissur

2009-11-07T13:02:00.001-08:00

Hi there everyone! The great American author, Mark Twain, wrote the words: “India … the one land that all men desire to see, and having seen once, by even a glimpse, would not give that glimpse for all the shows of all the rest of the globe combined”.

It would be foolish of us, a low key America-based family of Indian extraction to imagine we could add to the storied legacies of such a country. But our 10 glorious days in Kerala brought back to us images and affections so profound that we were moved to share it with our friends and family. Our starring cast comprises Vijay (the wrong side of 40, but the perennial energizer bunny); Chitra (the avid historian and philosopher); Shobhita, rising 9 year olds with an opinion on every subject known; and Sarvesh, a free-spirited 6 year old with a wild streak but a smile to charm even the most hard-hearted.

Our itinerary started at Thrissur (Central Kerala) on August 13, where we detoured to Guruvayur Kohvel (Temple). Then after soaking in the Vadakkunathan Shiva Kohvel, we descended on Kochi for 2 heady days. From there we headed to the moistly warm Thattekad (Salim Ali) Bird Sanctuary before entering the mountains of Munnar and Marayoor (and the Chinnar Wildlife Refuge). Then a beautiful finale at Vijay's ancestral home Kalpathy (near Palakkad), ending with a couple restful days in Bangalore before we zipped back to the US.

Before we begin, we must acknowledge our host of internet pals who provided great guidance to us. First and foremost, "Synonymous" of IndiaMike.com, who was a veritable gold mine of advice on sights, weather, local "gotchas" and every little last detail of anything you could think of! Then there was "Pravman" of Tripadvisor.com and also Peek, Vandy and many others of IndiaMike.com. What a great coterie of people from across the world: thanks guys/gals for all your help in making our trip memorable as it could possibly have been!
------------------------------

Chitra, Shobhita and Sarvesh had spent a fruitful week in Bangalore hopping between various relatives prior to Vijay's arrival from Singapore on Thursday night, having completed a hectic business trip. Neither Chitra nor I could sleep that night. Either it was the excitement of being re-united in the city in which we wed in 1995 or the grizzly spectre of having to rise at 5am to leave for the train station to catch our train to Kerala. Let's go for the romantic rationale over the pragmatist's! Fortunately, our departure was uneventful and before we knew it, we were huddled together on the platform at Bangalore Cantonment station, braving the morning chill unique to this city within South India. Even at 6am, there was a busy stream of activity. Several overnight trains were pulling in from destinations all over the country; and when no trains were at large, the tracks were liberally used as a thoroughfare … how else would one get from one platform to the opposite one?!

When our train did arrive, there was a veritable charge of the light brigade, with any concept of a queue or ladies/children first consigned to the scrap-heap. We eventually managed to bundle our bulging bags on-board and the Ernakulam Express trickled out of the station with us safely inside.

"Express" is an interesting concept in Indian travel parlance since most trains chug along at a maximum of 35-40mph and the timetables are often articles of fiction. But almost more than any other place on earth, Indian trains are fun. On any journey of more than a couple of hours, from almost the moment the conductor chimes his departure bell, a steady stream of food of every imaginable type is paraded through the carriages. You might start off with the resolve to stay austere, but inevitably the temptation is insuppressible and then the floodgates of gluttony are opened. Within 45 minutes, there was Masala Dosai, Vadai, Choodu (hot) Bread Omelette, Samosa, Vegetable Biryani and "Watee" (water!) with much more to follow. And when you are not eating, there is an incredible variety of people to chat with, most of whom are very helpful and friendly, especially if you are blessed(?) to be traveling with young children. In our close vicinity was a businessman with his mother en route from Mumbai to Coimbatore, where her sister lives. And a young Bengali couple married just 3 months back traveling to Salem to visit her family (they work in different cities, so this was a holiday weekend re-union for them).

Once we had escaped from the urban clutches of Bangalore, the scenery was consistently lovely. First we had the picturesque countryside of western Karnataka with pastoral farmland dotted with Palm and Coconut trees, lean cattle grazing, and shallow hills in the background. Already, the environment was refreshingly green, reminding us of the pleasures of traveling in monsoon time. Our mouths watered at the thought of Kerala and its lush landscapes. The lower density of humans was as striking as the bright greens, yellows and reds of saris and pavadais of women within eyeshot. Made even more illuminating by the emergence of the sun … first a glimpse, then a gentle sheet embracing the terrain.

A major part of our experience was traveling Sleeper Class, which actually stemmed from our ignorance of inter-city travel in India. For too long, train travel for us had meant commuter shuttles where one rolls up 5 minutes in advance, pops a credit card into a machine and happily boards the next train. Whereas in India, seats on most services, especially those at night-time, are booked up months in advance. So there we were about a week prior, happily booking our hotels and car/driver, blissfully unaware that our intended trains were sold out plus a wait list of over 50 people! Once reality dawned on us, in abject panic, we started scrambling through every train schedule imaginable for any vacant slots. AC Class was out of the question, but there was one daytime train with Sleeper Class available. So by default, here we were! In retrospect, we were glad for the experience. Nobody in their right minds would ever attach allusions of luxury to Sleeper Class (and sure enough, we had our first encounter with a cockroach in 10 years during the journey). But instead, we had the joys of standing by an open train door shooting video and photos to die for (another "where else in the world" moment!). And the informal atmosphere among the passengers was tailor-made for Sarvesh who alternated between climbing up and down from the upper berths and making friends with anyone anywhere close-by. So lo and behold, before long he had become bosom buddies with our Salem-bound friend as they took turns to draw artistic masterpieces on a sketch pad ranging from elephants to court jester to ice creams!

By the time we reached our beloved Kerala, the train was already running more than 1 hour late (re-planning your itinerary not once but multiple times is another constant feature of Indian train journeys!) But there was no time to mope over this - instead our jaws dropped as the dry, arid fields around Coimbatore were replaced by rich greenery and the hazy backdrop of the Nilgiri and Palani Hills. Now we were really in business!

The train finally pulled into Thrissur station at 4.30pm, a full 80 minutes behind schedule. After a disembarkation scramble eclipsed only by the morning melee in Bangalore, we managed to locate our driver. We had planned to visit the 200 year old Shakthan Thampuran Palace, the erstwhile home of the Kochi Royal Family, but our late arrival meant it was firmly closed when we arrived. There was an informal cricket game in progress on the maidan adjacent to the Palace, which our driver abruptly interrupted by plonking our car squarely in the middle of their pitch! But the youth of India is well used to such occurrences. Cricket games are found any time and anywhere, including minute courtyards, main roads and even rooftops!

So we switched to plan B and headed off to the town of Guruvayur, home of the one of the most famous Lord Krishna Hindu temples in all of India. This was a mere 29km from Thrissur, but it felt more like 290km as we embarked on a hair-raising journey that (as it happened) was a mere sneak preview of 10 days of the roadway mayhem that is another defining feature of India. Lane markings might as well be decorative works as every vehicle seems to make its own rules. Overtaking head-on into approaching vehicles in the opposite direction is commonplace (and actually expected). The most critical part of a car becomes the horn, which is used an instrument of power to show your priority of passage (at least as you see it!)

Mercifully, we reached Guruvayur in one piece and found our hotel, which was conveniently within walking distance of the temple. We all had long-awaited baths and got ready for our pilgramage. Sarvesh looked like a pukka pandit-ji in his new veshti (which was held up by a very necessary trouser belt!) While Shobhita donned a pretty multi-coloured Pavadai-Chukka that she had selected in Bangalore.

Guruvayur clearly occupies a very special place in South Indian religious culture and indeed the town did have an atmosphere all of its own. But unfortunately, it was oppressively crowded (even by Indian standards) and it was very difficult to find anyone to help us orient ourselves. We circumnavigated the complex a couple of times in search of some order, but none emerged. We had read something akin to this, but it was nonetheless a conundrum for Vijay who harbored rather different memories of a boyhood visit to the great shrine many years ago. Not to worry -- we figured we would get Darshana (blessings) and then sit quietly in a corner and engage in our own private prayers. It was not to be. There were 2 lines: a ladies line that was very long; and then a general line that was about three-times longer and twisted around many times, eventually swinging out of the temple boundaries to the streets outside. It was already almost 8.30pm, so we decided to walk around the temple to soak up the ambience and then return the next morning to try our luck again.

Kerala Day 2: Trying our Luck at Vadakkunathan Temple and Hauling Fishing Nets in Kochi

2009-11-07T12:05:00.000-08:00

We were up fairly early (so we thought) and back at Guruvayur by 7.30am. As it turned out, our calculations were way off. If the previous evening resembled an evening city bazaar, Independence morning (Aug 15) at Guruvayur was close to a rock concert-like frenzy. The lines for Darshanam were even longer and we could barely hear our own thoughts. We figured it might take 3 hours to get through the crowds. I guess you can criticize us for not being religious purists, but we decided that since God's blessings are supposed to be omnipresent, we might seek a less painful way! On a lighter note, we mused that we should probably delay visiting the richer (aka more popular) temples to when we become senior citizens since this group seems to have their own accelerated queue to the sanctum sanctorum!

So we departed, a tad sadly. We arrived back at Thrissur (after another bout of Rallycross Racing) and soon found the Vadakkunathan Temple, which turned out to be much more peaceful than its more famous brethren in Guruvayur. The temple was originally built in the 9th century AD, although it underwent extensive renovations in the 16th and 17th century. It is rather thrilling to think of Vadakkunathan of Thrissur and Ekambareshwarnath of Kanchi being constructed at the same time as the likes of the beautiful Mesquita Mosque of Cordoba (in South Spain).

We entered the temple through an imposing portal into a spacious grassy courtyard, perfect for a peaceful walk to soak in the serene surroundings. On the left was the so-called Kuttambalam, a picturesque auditorium (occasionally used for music/dance performances) with multi-colored columns and multi-faceted geometric shapes built into the ceiling. It would certainly be a lovely experience to conduct a marriage here! In the center with a rounded copper dome was the Shiva temple and to the right was a Rama temple and a small Ganesh shrine. The gentle curves of Kerala temple architecture are beautifully subtle: you feel like you are really visiting the "home" of the lord. The temple doesn't try to overwhelm you with the grandeur of its Tamil Nadu cousins. We noticed similarities with South-East Asian architecture, notably the pagoda style, but also the supports to the roof which (for the front gate) looked just like the Chinese or Indonesian dragon. One wonders at potential linkages derived from (for instance) Emperor Ashoka's missionary travels into South-East Asia, and the Hindu dynastics of Vietnam and Cambodia.

One interesting feature of the temple rituals is that while the priests conduct the pooja, the visitors are not allowed near the sanctum. Hence, the priests would chase away unknowing worshippers (like ourselves at the start!) because a particular pooja had begun in the vicinity. So we had to do something of a rotation between the various shrines, but this did allow us to soak in the atmosphere while we sat on the patio surrounding the inner temple complex.

When visiting a temple (or any other place of worship like a mosque, church or synagogue), it is easy to lose yourself in religious thoughts, thus overlooking the artistic and architectural beauty of the edifice. We perhaps had more luxury to appreciate this duality being on holiday, compared to locals rushing in for Darshan between the demands of their life. It was interesting to see the concerted efforts at restoration and preservation by the Archeological Survey of India, both at Vadakunathan and elsewhere. Is it a losing battle or an evolving story? Only time will tell. As we circum-ambulated the outer courtyard, we could see that (like Guruvayur) the external walls of the inner courtyard are faced with shelving of dark wood on which stand thousands of unlit earthen lamps. Can you imagine the blaze of light if the walls were lit at night?!

As we emerged from the temple complex, a myriad view met our eyes. In the foreground, we caught a glimpse of the temple elephants being led to some unknown duties by their caretakers. Further in the distance resonated the metropolis of Thrissur, its nucleus rather reminiscent of the Zocala of Mexico City with a circular road of bustling traffic enclosing a central oasis housing Vadakkunathan at a slightly elevated level. Vijay, whose paternal grandfather (T.S. Vishwanathan) had owned a successful printing firm in Thrissur in the early 1900s, was very keen to try and locate their erstwhile office building (known as Vishwananthan Towers). Some officials attached to the temple kindly put him in touch with a knowing local, but alas it transpired that about 25 years ago, the building had given way to a supermarket. But at least the name was recognized!

Thrissur's Vadakkunathan Temple did much to assuage our regret at missing Lord Krishna at Guruvayoor, so it was a contented family that cooled off in our AC Indica as we trundled off to Kochi. We had nicely arranged our schedule to arrive there in time for a Sunset Boat Cruise around Fort Kochi. But the India Planning Curse struck again … as we rolled up at the tiny KTDC tourist office, only to be told that the cruise had been cancelled that day due to inadequate patronage. In our infinite wisdom, we had assumed that being a long weekend, there would be better attendance!

It is interesting visiting India as a naturalized Westerner, both in terms of one's own attitude and how one is treated. For us it was a strangely tumultous experience best catharisized so we can evolve into more effective travellers in the country. Whereas elsewhere around the globe, we have been tolerantly amused by local idiosyncracries, in India we found ourselves being intensely judgmental, while concurrently jealously proud of the culture and signs of prosperity and progress. That said, there is little doubt in our minds that being an NRI (non-resident Indian) in India is a bad bargain. One is treated with the disdain accorded to a local visitor, yet people try to fleece you because you are clearly a Westerner in every regard except physiology.

Enough heavy handed introspection! Back at Fort Kochi, we installed ourselves at the Tantraa Homestay. A fairly comfortable and conveniently-located house, but not a place we would recommend since, unbeknownst to us, the owner has emigrated to Denmark, leaving a single housekeeper in charge (and she turned out to be quite a character!)

We spent the rest of the evening wandering around the Fort Kochi harbour, which is a major tourist attraction, albeit cynically litter-ridden like so many other otherwise scenic locations in India. The non-existence of trash cans is quite a shocker when first observed. Really, the country would be better served if celebrities like Shah Rukh Khan invested in a Garbage Disposal company, rather than a cricket team in the glitter-overdosed Indian Premier League. We made a beeline for the famous Chinese Fishing Nets, those feats of mechanical engineering that have evolved into a tourist fiesta in their own right. We were duly invited onto the great devices to try our hand at tugging on ropes to lower and raise the nets. We knew there was nothing extemporaneous about the invitation, but it did not detract from our fun, and for the princely sum of Rs50, it classed as a must-do experience for us. We even caught a fish or two, one of which was a tiny sword fish which nipped Shobhita's finger as one of the fishermen got rather carried away and dangled its pointy snout from her hand for a photo moment!

From there, we walked along the waterfront watching the powerful swell of high-tide waves lash the coastline. Clearly a place to be careful of rip-tides, as Sarvesh realized, almost too late. A seemingly modest wave gathered steam and slammed into us as we stood in a small cove, upending both the children. A kindly man standing next to Sarvesh managed to pull him up, but both he and Shobhita were nicely saturated, thus putting paid to our stroll as we hastily headed back to the homestay to clean them up.

Kerala Day 3: Imbibing the beauty of Backwater Kerala and its Traditional Arts

2009-11-07T11:40:00.000-08:00

Those in the know have crowned Kerala as "God's Own Country" and there is nothing finer than the famed Backwaters in all its lands. Our internet advisors (notably the IndiaMike.com travel forum) had guided us to a punted country boat day trip, rather than the rather elongated and potentially mosquito-ridden overnight houseboat stay ... and a mighty fine piece of advice it proved to be.

But as ever, nothing was completely straightforward, including the organisation of the tour. We had trustingly left this in the hands of our homestay owner. Big mistake! The housekeeper who was supposed to have arranged everything in fact had done precisely nothing. Then, after initially trying to fob us off with the "it's a public holiday" excuse, she eventually made a phone call and few minutes later, a twenty-something youth with a shock of slick-backed hair arrived at the homestay. His price for the cruise was exhorbitant and far higher than the homestay owner had previously quoted us. Our objections were met with a rather smarmy grin and the response that: "our business is owned by some famous people". Chitra and I exchanged knowing glances and speedily sent him on his way. We pulled out our handy "Rough Guide to India", which had a list of cruise operators. We called a company called Deva Travels, where we spoke to a chap called Ajit, who was mercifully much more straightforward. He offered us the eminently fair price of Rs.1000 for a 4 hour trip for the family and explained that we would be the only folks in the boat (along with the punter and guide). This was in stark contrast to our "company of famous people", where there would have been 6-8 people per boat. .

Nonetheless, by now suitably chastened, we awoke the next morning with some trepidation ... would Mr. Ajit actually send a car to pick us up? Would he try to fob us off with a short trip? As it happened, our concerns were unnecessary. He came himself (so there would be no issues directing an unknown driver) and took it upon himself to be our guide for the trip. What a change to be pleasantly surprised!

Ajit explained that the car would be taking us to a village some 30km away from where we would take the country boat. Leaving Fort Kochi was like opening the curtain to rural Kerala. The air was laden with the sweet smells of plants, wet mud and spices; the greenery expanded exponentially; and a cool breeze stroked our faces. After about an hour, we reached our destination where, rather than rushing into the trip, Ajit first walked us through the land abutting the boat jetty. Right alongside stood a low house with traditional tiled, sloping roof, which had been the main homestead of a landlord/zamindar. You could still see faded painted frescoes along parts of the front (the landlords had departed and the land was now only used as a jetty). We strolled through an orchard that contained various peppercorn creepers and cinnamon trees. We observed the rope steps on coconut trees that allowed for the collection of toddy, the sap that is fermented into Palm Wine. We walked around little ponds which had worked as wells in yesteryears, and were now ringed with young pineapple bushes (photo above). We also visited a Coir weaver's home, where an old man kindly worked his mechanical loom so we could see how a coir mat was made. It is sad of course that this way of life is in decline with the growth of semi-automatic looms in distant factories. Back at the jetty, we climbed into the country boat a bit hesitantly. In keeping with his position as master of mischief-making, Sarvesh initially refused to step into the boat, and then having done so, proceeded to fidget around, first sitting on the bench, then sliding down to sit on the boat floor, causing us to be rocked rather alarmingly!

What can we say of the trip? A beautiful silence stretching out miles ... eagles snatching at fish in the shallow waters, smaller chinese fishing nets in a fisherman's backyard, black cormorants perched on a tree, another swimming in the water (with only its black head poking out) - and much, much more. The people were different too: more relaxed and kinder, all of us soothed by the gentle lap and ebb of the channel waters and the gentle rural breeze. As our boat moved from the main channel into a large expanse of water (en route to the narrower channels), we caught sight of some covered houseboats with suitably somnolent lolling around on-board. Apparently, the boats are made by stitching together wooden boards, treated with fish oil, leaves and other materials. Sturdy, water-tight compartments indeed, and later on, we saw some that were used to carry sand and other raw materials).

Among our various stops was a village by name of Kuthiathode, where we visited the local fish market and were introduced to that Kerala staple, the Reading Room - a testament to the state's higher than average literacy rate. Also not to be missed was the Ayurveda Shop, the Toddy Room, and the Tea Shop. A side canal took us to a local prawn farm where we learnt about how water was flushed through the man-made ponds for cultivation either of rice/paddy or prawns. It is interesting to note the continuous interaction of salt and fresh water in these channels. Salt water prevalent in the monsoon allows for farming of prawns and different kinds of fishes, whereas fresh water in the other seasons allows paddy cultivation and fresh water fishing.

The bright day and beautiful vistas were punctuated by little children who ran along the narrow ridges between the water bodies waving and blowing kisses to us. The onset of the Onam festival could be seen in the lovely gold-white saris that ladies wore as they and their menfolk left their little hamlets for a near-by wedding. It was our first experience of a Kerala village, and you could see the pride of the folk in how cleanly the front yards had been swept that morning. We ended the walk with some wonderfully sweet tender coconut. I had heard of but not realized how nutritious the drink was ... the water and its accompanying tender pulp were a great energy booster, and wholesome food that kept us going for another hour at least.

Drinking water is a key challenge of life in the backwaters - especially given the constant tussle between salt and fresh water. Ajit showed us evidence of government help in the water pumps that lay between homes that were going a long way towards alleviating the problem. It also appears that pollution isn't hurting the fish population in the region, although we found that a bit surprising. However, it is also true that except for portions of the trip that approached village settlements, there was very little evidence of trash/garbage. Clearly the people living off the land took care to preserve their ecology.

There are many more images that come to mind in that dreamy trip back to the jetty. Among them, a bunch of ducks screeching at us from the water (disconcerted when Sarvesh screeched back at them!); a saw mill where boats were put up for repairs; and a conch sound with accompanying songs from a local temple (perhaps the wedding in progress that the villagers from the prawn farm had been walking to?).

It was hard to come back to earth from that trip. Where to go from that paradise? We eventually opted for the Tripunithra Hill Palace, the erstwhile seat of the Rajas of Kochi. Unfortunately, we arrived there only to find the palace itself closed for renovations (and believe us, they are necessary!), but the gardens were open to the public.

As ex-residents of Bangalore, we are fairly used to well laid out gardens (Kempe Gowda, Brindavan Gardens). But the Hill Palace was majestic in its own right. Gleaming hibiscus, marigolds and rose bushes were laid out in terraces that led up to the main palace doors, the sweet scents and warm sun bringing out multi-hued butterflies ... wow! There were some segments of garden, including a fountain with inviting benches around it and a colonnaded walk, that at one time must have been covered by endearing vines. The intimate walks and secluded, flower-scented corners were ideal for lovers and we kept stumbling upon them, much to the delight of Shobhita and Sarvesh, who are true romantics at heart!

After that restful visit, we were ready for another Kerala treat: a viewing of Kalaripayattu and Kathakali at the Kerala Kathakali Centre of Fort Kochi, which we would thoroughly recommend. The 1-hour Kalaripayattu demo was astounding in both its skill and intensity; it's too bad the performance which started at 4p was not better attended. We strongly recommend it, but do advise against sitting in the front row because there were a couple of times when the bamboo sticks slipped from the hands of the participants and would have thumped a hapless front-bencher on the head. Mr. Vijayan, who acts as master of ceremonies for both the Kalaripayattu and Kathakali performances (besides being the main singer for the Kathakali performance) provided great insight into the history and traditions of this classically Keralan dance. In particular, he spent half an hour demonstrating (along with a dancer) the various abhinaya and hand gestures that make up the language of Kathakali. The auditorium was intimate and charmingly-decorated, replete with wooden panelling and a carved Kathakali head atop a traditional Kerala roof structure that adorned the stage. Also mention must be made of the almost 1 hour-worth of make-up that was carefully placed on the various artists. It is as much a part of the kathakali art-form as the dance-drama that followed.

It might well be that the piece danced by the Kathakali troupe - an episode involving Shiva disguised as a hunter, Parvati and Arjuna - is quite standard for most Kathakali performances. But it is a very expressive episode from the Mahabharata epic and was a great demonstration of Kathakali both as a dance form and a form of drama. In the agile facial movements of the actors, the leaps and bounds of the dancers, you can see the origins of the classical Bharatanatyam dance, as well as Indian Theatre. The interactions between Shiva and Parvati were particularly charming, as the two were portrayed as truly inseparable. Shiva might be the Father of the Universe, but he lacks self-confidence in the absence of Parvati. She is his inspiration, and he needs her at all times to be his most masterful self. It was a beautifully egalitarian interpretation of both the Gods and of Marital life!

Check out our short videos depicting the Kalaripayattu and Kathakali that we were fortunate to witness ...

Kalaripayattu: Watch the sparks fly in some astounding Kalaripayattu Duals!!

Kathakali Part 1: Make-up, and Lecture-Demonstration

Kathakali Part 2: Performance of the story from the Mahabharata.

Kerala Day 4: Who Thought We'd Spend a Whole Day Exploring Fort Kochi!

2009-11-07T08:54:00.000-08:00

This was probably the least pre-planned of all the days of our vacation, causing some anxst to Vijay, who revels in jam-packed days mapped out to the nth degree. We envisaged a couple of hours in Fort Kochi and that aside, we knew we had to end the day at Kothamangalam. We had considered visiting Athirampally Falls en route to Kothamangalam, but our geography was awry and that would have required a major detour (we thus learnt the cardinal rule of never estimating driving times in India from "crow fly" map scanning!)

After checking out of our Homestay, we headed back to the Fort Kochi pier. The private tourist desk at Ernakulam had given us a walking tour of Fort Kochi which turned out to be quite lovely. Fort Kochi is a Kerala city with a distinct European flavour reflecting successive occupation by the Portuguese, the Dutch and the British. Wandering through the historic buildings of Old Harbor House (left photo), Pierce Leslie Bungalow (right photo), and Koder House was atmospheric and evocative. Old Harbor House with its checkerboard marble floor, gaping windows of Belgian glass and charming bridge-way stretching across to the adjacent building was a particular standout, while the red-brick Koder House portrayed its own special history (its original owner, Mr. Samuel Koder was considered the patriach of Kochi's Jewish community). They are all now hotels, but wonderfully preserved. It appears that the early 1800s were a prolific time of real estate development, and many of these buildings date from that period, including the Delta Study, of brilliant white hue, and sensitively adapted into a modern-day high school.

Adding to the charm of the walk was being collared by various merchants plying their bits and bobs along with a once in 5 minute approach by a seeming bystander for a tour of the Kochi sights (including auto drivers poking their heads out of their vehicles). Armed with our cameras, sneakers, sunglasses and guide book, we must have been the perfect prototype tourist fodder! One guy snared us with some cute looking straw hats that looked like something a Chinese farmer might wear. We bargained the chappy down to Rs50 each and Shobhita and Sarvesh were the happy owners of the headgear!

Further on, we came across St Francis Church, supposedly the oldest church in India (dating from around 1508) and the original burial place of Vasco de Gama, the commander of the first Portuguese contingent to colonise Kochi, opportunistically exploiting Kochi's ongoing feud with Kozhikode to nuzzle his way into power. We also passed the Vasco House, a rather decrepit looking homestay, but boasting the cache of purportedly being Vasco de Gama's first residence in Kochi. We wandered past the East India Dutch Company Headquarters (built 1740) and onto a beautiful beach which abutted the dutch cemetary and the few remaining ramparts of the now extinct Dutch Fort.

The feeling of a bygone era was palpable - the intrigues of capturing the lucrative Kochi Spice Trade, the sheningans of the East India company, the peril of the Europeans attempting to invade (commercially) a foreign land, the point where Vasco Da Gama must have landed in Kochi. To see the actual places of such events was quite galvanizing. So too was walking down Princess Street (one of the oldest streets of Fort Kochi) with many original architectural features (like columns, grills, roof decorations) still adorning the buildings. It was a bit like walking along some streets of Stratford-on-Avon, unchanged for centuries.

A sudden glance at our watches revealed it was 11.15. With a start, we remembered the Jewish Synagogue closed for a highly elongated lunch at Noon. In we bundled into our Indica and we were soon ducking and weaving our way through the traffic towards Mattancherry. The synagogue has a nondescript exterior of stone masonry aside from a clock tower engraved on its 4 sides in 4 different languages: Malayalam, Hebrew, Roman and Arabic. Only 11 Jews remain in Kochi, with many others having returned to the motherland. Nonetheless (or maybe for that reason), the synangogue is immaculately maintained with eye-catching combination of blue and white engraved floor tiles of Cantonese extraction, glass chandoliers hanging from the celiing and a central prayer area of resplendant bronze. Unfortunately, the crown jewels of the synagogue, 3 scrolls of the Torah and a copper-plated record from Kodangallur recording a grant from the 10th century monarch, Ravi Varman to the Jewish community, are kept under lock and key after an errant hand strayed uncontrollably some time in the past. We were duly kicked out of the synagogue on the dot at Noon and proceeded to wander the streets of Kochin's miniscule Jewtown area. It was fascinating to compare these antique and handicraft-laden streets with our saunter through the old Jewish quarters of Sevilla earlier this year. Kochi doesn't quite have the magic of the jewel of Andalucian Spain, but then again few cities do! Interestingly, the lady who was volunteering at the Synagogue said that her family had in fact fled from Southern Spain during medieval times, arriving at Cannanore from whence they moved to Kochi fleeing the Moors and Portugeuse. While they are fully integrated into Kerala life, they still make some eatables for which the recipies are preserved in Spanish!!!

As a final part of our Kochi tour we walked through the spice district, passing by the Pepper Exchange. Our work in Financial services in the US led us to knock on the doors of some spice merchants (wholesellers and traders) and we spend a fruitful hour chatting with them about their commodity trading in Rubber and Pepper, and the competition between the Futures Exchanges of Kochi and Ahmedabad. What an interesting world we live in, where culture and languages may differ, but the language of commerce (positions, hedges, limits, delivery in this case) is much the same.

From here, we made our way to one of Kochi's most storied relics: the Mattancherry Dutch Palace. In keeping with Kerala architecture, the palace does not overwhelm. It is not even as grand as Tripunithra's Hill Palace (which is definitely more like a Colonial Manor). That said, it is delicate and beautiful, especially in its intricate wood carvings along the windows and doors, the low ceilings in the main palace, and dark wooden supports to the ceilings. Much of the palace was being restored but there were some beautiful murals highly reminiscent in style/color to the paintings of Vadakkunathan. The portrait gallery of the Kings of Kochi were a thought-provoking collection. I say so because they were portraits of monarchs who had been vassals of a foreign power. There seemed (in our imagination) rather a sense of defeat or even slight futility ... what must it have been like to be the king of a nation, but only with the permission of Portugese, Dutch and English?

Our final destination was "Kairali", the Kerala State Handicraft Store chain in Ernakulam where Chitra indulged in buying a Kerala sari to celebrate the festival of Onam. Fittingly, we were treated to some college students engaging in a drumming parade, perhaps in honour of the start of Onam. The location of the marchers was slightly comical - at the corner of an IndianOil gas station adjoining a typically chaotic Ernakulam thoroughfare. Anywhere else on the planet, it would have been grossly incongruous, but in our beloved India, we barely raised an eyebrow!

This turned out to be our coup de grace. It was 5pm and high time we left for Kothamangalam. A wonderful day of discovery was behind us; an incredible day of birding lay ahead!

Kerala Day 5: A Fiesta of Birds at Thattekad Sanctuary

2009-11-07T08:13:00.000-08:00

It had not taken us long to figure out that customer service in India is a complete crapshoot. Even the best laid plans can be capsized by a minute detail you completely took for granted. But then as you are rolling your eyes in resignation, you come across folks who are kind, helpful and replete with unrivalled specialist knowledge. We were certainly indebted to Mr. Joy of Hotel Maria International (in Kothamangalam) who put us in touch with the highly recommended, but extremely elusive Sudheesh, a naturalist at the Thattekad Bird Sanctuary (also called Salim Ali Bird Sanctuary) and an assistant to the world renowed birder K.V. Eldhose.
(http://www.thehindu.com/thehindu/mp/2008/07/12/stories/2008071252770800.htm). Then we have a host of internet pals to thank, first and foremost, "Synomymous" of IndiaMike.com (http://www.travelpod.com/members/indianature), who was a veritable gold mine of advice on sights, weather, local "gotchas" and every little last detail of anything you could think of! Then there was "Pravman" of Tripadvisor.com and also Peek, Vandy and many others of IndiaMike.com. What a great coterie of people from across the world - thanks guys/gals for all your help in making our trip memorable and as according to plan as any India sojourn could conceivably be!

Pardon the digression! Back to Kothamangalam and August 19. A day of feather and plumage-spotting awaited us at Thattekad, with a mandatory start at the crack of dawn. Surprisingly we awoke on schedule at 5am thanks to our trusty Blackberry Alarm clock. We were quickly dressed, plastering our legs with lime (chunnam) to assuage our leech paranoia (we had probably read more about this subject than almost anything else!) After all this palaver, we finally pulled into Thattekad at 6.45am, not too bad!

Sudheesh was right there as promised and we were ready to discover India's bountiful nature, having taken our fill of the cultural treasures of Kochi and Thrissur. Walking up from the gate we speedily entered what can only be described as a magical river valley. Early morning rays bounced off a distant mountain that was shrouded in clouds and fell on a large natural pond, that was dammed on one side of a bridge (that we were on), and a free flowing river on the other side. The pond was covered in a variety of fresh water plants that glinted gold-brown-green in the sunlight. On the other side, a lady washed her clothes, slapping them on the water-adjoining rocks to wring out the moisture. The air was gently warm, with a slight breeze that prevented things from getting sticky. We had spent a good deal of time compiling a pictoral bird list. So imagine our joy in spotting the Bronze-winged Jacana (a brownish-rust bird - perfect camoflage in that pond) but distinguishable by its large web-like feet. It literally walked on water, tip-toeing over the pond-covering plants.

Over the course of 4 hours we saw almost 40 varieties of birds, including the Black-hooded Oriole, a particularly fine specimen of the Malabar Parakeet, The Chestnut-headed Bee-eater (photo right) and a Black-Rumped Flameback Woodpecker (left photo), along with their more common (yet very pretty) brethren, the Racket-tailed Drongo, Red-wattled Lapwings, and a White-browed Wagtail. We wandered down a wooded path trying to outdo Sudheesh in bird identification, but only succeeding in finding the more common varieties. After a while, Sudheesh disappeared while we tried to video-tape an enormous Female Wood spider. He reappeared to lead us to a couple of Ceylonese Frogmouths that were quietly sitting on the branches of a dwarf tree (see photo left).

Not to be outdone by the birds, the butterflies came out in a full force as the sun crept up the sky. A wet humidity, solar warmth, and wafting breeze sweetened by mud-flowers-spices made for a heady cocktail so that we enjoyed the Paris Peacock, (photo left) and had a quick vision of the largest butterfly in India, the Yellow Songbird (we had a much better view of it a few days later at the Chinnar Wildlife Refuge). Reigning peace, punctuated by bird calls, with a background orchestra of crickets and Ciccada, will remain with us forever. As we trudged further up the path, suddenly Chitra folded her brow, sensing an animal scent. After a second, Sudheesh identified it as the urine of a wild elephant. We promptly turned back - when you are in nature, discretion is always the watchword. As we back-tracked, there then followed a Spanish inquisition from Shobhita and Sarvesh."Is the elephant dangerous?", "will it eat us", "can't we run away", "can the wild elephant hear us really well", "can he smell us?", "Will he trample us down?", "Will they come out of the forest? No? But what if they are stampeding?" This all taxed our minds rather more than anything we had hitherto seen. It's a subtle skill to give a child a meaningful response without scaring the wits out of them!

Sudheesh succeeded in distracting them (and us, let's be honest), by leading us into a lovely meadow where we had a close up view of the Malabar Hornbill with its distinctive hooked beak (photo right). Vijay also caught on video the light-hearted sparring of 2 Heart spotted woodpeckers flitting between trees in search of a resting place. On we went, with the multi-toned melody of the Black-hooded Oriole punctuating our thoughts. Then a beautiful sight, the male Malabar Trogan; black brow and dazzling red colored chest. It flitted around then came into perfect view (photo left). We had a glorious 90 seconds of seeing him up close and personal, courtesy of Sudheesh's telescope.

As we left, Sudheesh offered the telescope to Sarvesh who of course eagerly grabbed it and walked off with it over his shoulder. We had a few seconds of heart palpatations. Sudheesh had earlier explained how his favourite binoculars (which had cost a pretty penny) met their demise as his 1 year old daughter had grabbed them and given them to the family dog, who promptly snapped them in half! We did not want to risk a repeat performance so we hastily retrieved the precious tripod!

We had wondered if we might get a glimpse of the Wynaad Laughing Thrush, but Sudheesh opined that this elusive bird would need us to trek into the thick of the jungle about 10 kilometers out, well into Elephant territory, not advisable with little kids. So we bagged that option and instead adjourned for lunch in a tiny office used by the Guides. As usual, Shobhita and Sarvesh quickly made friends with several of the young naturalists, and joined them in a spirited game of chess, while we all ploughed through our dry cheese sandwiches. Sudheesh meanwhile showed us his album of quite awe-inspiring shots. Brilliant colored insects and butterflies up close - so close you could touch or smell them! Raindrops hanging off a wildflower; Two frogs mating. All with a simple handycam! He said he will often walk on his knees for half an hour for the thrill of composing the perfect picture.

The afternoon walk in nearby woodlands (outside the Thattekad Sanctuary) was very different. We were now in the thick of a humid, tropical afternoon with not even a whisker of breeze. The birds were scarcer, but not the raw beauty that accompanied our every step. At one point, Sudheesh suddenly ushered us through a mud-laden path off the side of the trail. After a few metres, it opened out into a quite idyllic scene with a full view of the somnolent river backgrounded by gentle hills and coconut trees. The terrain underfoot was distinctly soft reflecting recent flooding of the plain. A soporific Cormarand preened itself by the riverside and the forestry behind us resonated with the frog-like croaking of burbits and treepies and the continual and pulsing hiss of the Ciccada. Sudheesh suddenly mixed things up, shifting to his left up a steepish slope. Change of altitude, maybe a change of luck! After hiking up maybe 300-400 feet, we levelled out. The Jungle Owlet we were told is common to this area. We heard its call, but no sighting! We did come through a patch of quite delicious-smelling peppermint plants which warmed our nostrils. By this time the shirt was stuck to our backs and we were bathed in sweat ... a sweet, natural sauna. We could feel life stirring back into the forest, but the children were tired. So we disbanded for an hour's rest.

Back at around 4 pm and we were almost immediately greeted by beautiful green-gold bee-eaters, spotted with Shobhita's help! Then a Lesser Yellow-Naped woodpecker, at first a fleeting glimpse, but then a full shot as he amazingly responded to Sudheesh's knocking mouth-call!

A glance skywards revealed clouds settling in and before long, the heavens had opened, just as we strolled into another beautiful valley. After several days of unseasonable near-drought (much to the horror of the native farmers), we were finally to be treated to prime Kerala monsoon. The birds slipped away under cover, but not before we had spied a White-breasted Water Hen with 5 little chicks! We took shelter under a convenient tree and marvelled at the thunder and the pelting rain, the mountains and the valleys awash in water and an elderly lady under her umbrella leading her cows away from the fields. Our feathered friends were also at large, with a maroon-chested Kingfisher, a Cattle Egret swooping into the open plain, and a large Cuckoo Shrike. Shobhita and Sarvesh sang and leapt around in a manner that might have turned Gene Kelly's head, although we then had the rather more dubious honour of seeing Sarvesh completely drench his lone pair of hiking boots!

What more can we say about this day? A nature paradise amidst three different climactic patterns: a cool, misty morning; a steamy, hazy afternoon; and then a rumbustous evening. Wow!

For those of you of the ornithological bent, here is an (almost) complete list of birds we saw. Also please don't miss our video which is posted below the list of birds:
Black Hooded Oriole
Golden Fended Leafbird
Common Iora (yellow)
Red Whiskered bulbul (had a crest)
Black-crested Bulbul (black with a crest and tweet tweet)
Black Rumped Flameback Woodpecker (red brown chest)
Malabar Parakeet
Malabar Hornbill
White-Bellied Treepie
Rufous Treepie
White Throated Kingfisher
Racket-tailed Drongo (can match calls of 25 other species)
Bronze-winged Jacana
White-tailed Barbet
Bronze Drongo
Red-wattled Lapwing in a meadow. Good brown camoflage amg mud/grass.
Malabar Trogon Female (brown back and reddish brown as it flew)
Malabar Trogon Male (red chest with some black-white decoration)
Chestnut Headed Bee-eater
Thick-billed Flower pecker (very small)
Rufus treepie (gold and brown stripe y)
Common Kingfisher (agst light - red, blue)
White-Cheeked Barbet
Chestnut Tailed Starling on very top twig of a tree
Ceylonese Frogmouths (pair sitting on a branch together)
Crested Tree Swift
Ashy Woodswallow
Cormorand
Heart Spotted Woodpecker Pair
Green Bee-eater ( green/yellow small)
Yellow brown Bulbul - colour very evident as the bird flew away.
White-browed Wagtail in a meadow.
Large Cuckoo Shrike (greyish blue)
Common Myna
White-breasted Water Hen
Cattle Egret

Part 1: Early Morning at Salim Ali Bird Sanctuary, Thattekad

Part 2: Mid-morning at Salim Ali Bird Sanctuary, Thattekad

Part 3: Afternoon and Evening showers at the Bird Sanctuary, not to be missed!!

Kerala Day 6: Water All Round with Kodenad’s Elephants and Munnar’s Waterfalls

2009-11-07T07:05:00.000-08:00

This was truly a morning for the kids. We were slightly late in leaving for Kodanad and its Elephant Centre, but we made good time (although driver nearly killed a kamikaze cyclist en route). As luck would have it, our timing was perfect as we arrived to the sight of a huge elephant being slowly ushered down a narrow street. We duly followed them and reached a river where there were maybe half a dozen other tourists waiting with bated breath. One by one, as many as 5 elephants arrived, with maybe 6 or 7 attendants. It was amazing to see the elephants splash around before they lay down on their side, fully expecting to be bathed!

There were several large coconuts in the vicinity and we now discovered why. One of the attendants cracked several coconuts and the shell was neatly cut into small pieces, each of which became a perfect scrubbing brush for the elephants! Before long, Shobhita and Sarvesh were in the thick of things, splashing the elephants vigorously and rubbing them down like old pros. It was a simply scintillating morning with gentle sunshine and a razor clear landscape. Just as we thought they were going to be hired onto the staff of the Centre, bath-time ended and it was time to return to base.

The Elephant Centre itself was a sight in itself. At the time of the State of Travancore (a few centuries ago), the Centre had been the force behind capturing and training elephants in forestry work. There was a sinister looking "Kraal" composed of a jail-ike structure where elephants of the yesteryear were chained and kept while being trained. Now, the Kraal stands as a testament to the Centre's history. In its present incarnation, orphaned or injured elephants are rescued and brought here for sanctity. In contrast to the cells of yore, the Centre's current residents lived outside among leafy trees, somewhat akin to a mini-jungle. We drummed up the courage to take an Elephant ride, with the kids and Vijay mounting the saddle. The ride was fairly short, which was maybe just as well as Vijay was in danger of acute travel sickness as he gyrated to try and match the elephant's lateral sways. But it was certainly a unique experience and we did discover that the elephant's pristine looking skin is actually quite abrasive and hairy. Shobhita and Sarvesh of course had a whale of a time (if that's not a mixed metaphor!) and were raving about the morning for the next couple of hours. On such welcome distractions lies the foundation of happy parenthood!

Bidding farewell to our new-found elephant friends (Shobhita recognized her soft toy Trunkie among the baby elephants), we set off for Munnar. We initially had to backtrack to Kothamangalam, but once past that, the terrain rapidly shifted as we began to ascend into the hills. Gone were the dusty city roads, replaced by towering forestry flanking us imposingly on both sides of the road. The occasional break in the tree-lines would reveal glimpses of the background mountains, as yet fairly modest, but we knew this was just the appetizer.

As the gradient steepened, the lanky trees were replaced with shorter, but equally dense foliage. This route is renowned for its array of waterfalls and coming in late Monsoon season, we were agog with anticipation of a gushing extravaganza. And we were not disappointed! Within a 15km stretch, we encountered the Cherapayya, Vallara and Kallar Falls. The first two were elevated viewpoints with sheer rocks that only the most foolhardy would have attempted to traverse. But the last was closer to the roadside and an obliging side path beckoned. So we grabbed our lunch bag and clambored maybe 50-100 meters to a clutch of rocks tailor-made for a picnic with the afternoon sunshine refreshingly balanced by the sporadic spray from the thundering waters.

Our next stop after another half hour of snaking up the hills was a Spice Plantation, some 12km from Munnar. For the princely sum of Rs. 200, a middle-aged manager escorted around a beautifully laid out garden composed of peppercorn, cardamom, clove, cinnamon trees, not to mention green chillis (photo left), horse-radish, ginger, ginfer, coffee bushes, orchids and other exotic plants. The most interesting part was his exposition on the economics of running a plantation and how it can take upwards of 5 years to break-even. Hence, one develops a plantation in stages and with a diversified crop to avoid excessive sunk costs, and to prevent a boom-bust business cycle. At the end of the tour, Chitra beguiled the manager into allowing us to wander around the garden ourselves. No sooner had the kind man effaced himself than Vijay decided to explore down an unmarked path. Give those Sundarams an inch and they'll grab a yard! Inevitably, we were soon in the thick of dense foliage. At which point, the now-familiar afternoon ritual commenced, as bulbous clouds swooped in and dumped on us. The landscape was quite pristine and the foresty very reminiscent of the Cloud Forests we had traipsed through in Costa Rica in April 2008. We speedily backtracked up the path to the main garden. However, much to our chagrin, the Manager had noticed our disappearance and roundly scolded us for venturing outside the prescribed domain. But not, as you might think, our of concern for our well-being. Rather, the Plantation Owner would have been angered at our exploring parts of the Plantation that were actually covered by an additional charge!

Our final stop before descending on Munnar proper was Athakad Falls. We have seen a gazillion waterfalls in our travels, but set against the backdrop of rolling hills and lines of tea estates Athakad falls made for a quite unique picture. Not to forget a quite hair-raising series of hair-raising hairpin shifts down a sharply sheer road, laced for good measure in post-shower moisture. Our driver naturally was not in the least bit phased and nonchalantly swung the Tata Indica through the 270 degree bends and careered round bends with gay abandon!

There was quite a crowd on the rocks aside of the Falls, but we duly took our fill with the gushing rapids flanked by rollicking hills ethereally draped in early evening mist. Another unforgettable sight. Time was getting on, but the environment was irresistable so we decided to stroll down a winding road from the Falls to see what lay beyond. We were treated to more sumptuous views of the hills along with multi-hued wildflowers and a vantage point over the valley below. We passed by several vehicles taking tea-workers home after another day in the fields. One resembled a Chennai bus, crammed with men at the front and on top and women at the back. They all cheerfully waved to us and were predictably enchanted by Sarvesh, charismatic soul he is! We also chatted with some of the women who were walking home, even receiving an invite to tea by one of them!

After 45 minutes or so, we returned to the car. It was almost 6pm - maybe an hour max before dusk closed in. And not a moment too soon for the tortuous slalom back up the twisting road was spiced up by the abrupt descent of thick sheets of fog. We could barely see the road ahead of us. But our driver plowed on, weaving and wending his way up. Fortunately, there were no other vehicles on the road and we made it up in one piece. Quite an experience! Oh yes, our Munnar jaunt was well and truly underway!

Kerala Day 7: Rocky Ridges, Grassy Mounds, Rolling Tea Estates: That's Hiking in Munnar!

2009-11-07T06:32:00.000-08:00

The Greenview Inn, our chosen abode for our 2-day stay, was simple and clean, if nothing to brag about. But we liked its location in the middle of Old Munnar on the quaint Parvati Amman Koil street within walking distance of several Vegetarian Dhabas (eat-outs), which made our nightly meal a cinch. The inn is run by a young chap called Deepak who (along with 3-4 colleagues) have charted out various treks in the local mountains ranging from 6 to 15km in length. For us anyway, that was the key to the golden kingdom and beat out the various resorts in the Hills of Munnar, where one can spend a more leisurely time wallowing in the surrounding visual feasts.

We chose a 9-10km route with a 500m rise (1700 to 2200m), which we figured was about the statute of limits for the kids (3 kms steepish ascent to the peak; 6-7 kms more gently downward walk to base). The hike would also take us through 2km of tea estate giving us a true Munnar experience. Our guide, Prabhu, an energetic twenty-something economics graduate was a kind and helpful escort, adjusting to the pace of the kids, and pointing out various trees and wildflowers. And the weather once more outdid itself as if made to order by us.

Our 2 hour ascent was marked by 3 steep ridges with increasingly spectacular views including the Mattupetty Dam, which started as a speck of blue, but gradually unfolded into a long, pristine lagoon as we climbed. The final ascent was a narrow path flanked by nearly sheer rock, causing our own mother-hen, Chitra, to keep herding the kids to the middle of the path. The landscape reminded us quite a bit of Scotland and Wales and in particular a 3000+ foot peak called Pen-Y-Fan in South Wales that we (including 3 year old Sarvesh) had scaled back in 2006. The crisp morning air was perfect for our temperate-toned bodies, bathed by the moist warmth of the rising sun, which highlighted various wildflowers, orchids and shimmering butterflies. Rising from Grandee Tree forests (this tree which is a fast growing variety, is used as a sustainable source of fire wood by tea factories), the scrubby slopes of the ridge rose like the shoulders of a brooding giant above the lakes, waterfalls and tea plantations of Munnar. However, while the Welsh slopes of Pen-Y-Fan had been a true mix of stubble and poop(!) from the incessant nibbling of hundreds of generations of sheep, the Munnar slopes were not so contaminated, covered instead in bushes of neelakurunji (which blooms every 12 years, next scheduled in 2018) and various other grasses and flowers. One notable flower was the Lantena. a picture-perfect creation with petals comprising as many as 15 tiny heads of orange, pink and yellow).

Sarvesh was in rare form, stomping tirelessly up the successive ridges and leaving his sister in his dust. She did not take too kindly to this, but elicited no sympathy from us given her gleeful mocking of Sarvesh the previous day when he had indulged in a couple of 6-year-old antics.

After almost 2 hours we reached the summit, which was marked by 3 large crosses stuck in the ground (a relic from locals who typically hike up this and various other summits on Good Friday. Our reward was a glorious 360 degree visual feast. This was the Western Ghats in their full splendour. To the West was Annaimudi (derived from the Tamil words "Yannai Mudi" - Elephant Head), Munnar's highest peak with a burgeoning waterfall streaming down its face. To the North, several rolling hills. To the East, the full expanse of the Mattupetty Dam. To the South, the bustling and rather grubby city of Munnar.
As the others tucked into a tasty tiffin (which included locally-produced black tea that Prabhu had brought), Vijay walked laps around the peak taking copious amounts of video and snaps. And just as well too. For as he finished, the clouds started closing in apace. It was astonishing how quickly Mother Nature moved. First some whisps, then a rising clump, and finally a roaring mass akin to an inferno. Before we knew it, we were engulfed in a wall of white on all sides. It was quite surreal. We gaped at the surroundings for quite some time, rather glad that we had our trusty guide with us! After maybe 10 minutes, the murk started to clear a little, and we were then treated to an equally eery period of sporadic glimpses of the surrounding landscape in the manner of a stroboscope.

Fortunately, near visibility was ok so we set off down the other side of the mountain for the return journey. This took us through a variety of terrains. Prabhu informed us that we were hiking along trails used by British officers and local villagers for hundreds of years to travel from one village to another! First we dipped into the forest and immediately had our first encounter with India's most reviled wildlife - the leech. One clinging to Shobhita's heel was quickly dispatched, but Vijay discovered a rather more tenacious one, crawling up his long socks looking for an entry point. Initial attempts to brush it off were successful only in transferring it to Chitra's hand, but a timely flick from Prabhu sent our tormentor flying. Fortunately, the forest lasted only about 100 meters before we emerged into sanctitude. The mountain path zigged and zagged overlooking sheer slopes and more forestry. The only common element was consistently breathtaking views. There were clear signs of a wild elephant traversing the path, first from the large footprints and then from the bulbous excrement that filled the path. We were grateful that our paths did not cross, because it was probably a large mother with its pachyderm.

At around the 7km point, we swung around a sharp curve and found ourselves entering a tea plantation - the Mattupetty Tea Estate (owned as are all of the tea plantations in the vicinity by the Tata Tea Company - what an asset!). It was yet another stunning sight. Acres and acres of tea plants of different maturity pitched into fields ranging from flattish to sharply sloped to unfathomably steep. The steepest slopes were virtually impossible to climb, and it boggled the mind as to how the tea workers maintain and harvest the tea plants. I guess you can do almost anything with practice, although we thought we would last about 5 minutes in such an endeavour. We learnt that a single 3-stemmed tea leaf could yield several different tea-types including White Tea (from the top of the middle or scale lead), Leaf Tea from the 2 flanking leaves, and Black Tea from the whole thing. In addition, Green Tea from the whole plant, which is intrinsically decaffeinated as it goes through a steaming process that removes the caffeine. We also learnt about the history of the Munnar tea manufacturing industry, which grows varieties of China tea (other other indigenous brands being Assam and Darjeling). In keeping with Chitra's inherent curiosity as a Financial Analyst, we also discovered the Tata Tea Company had over the years acquired almost all the tea estates in the area (especially the land, which was now no longer leased from the government) in return for equity ownership (now at 70%) for the workers, for which the average worker earns ~Rs 350/year in dividend income. Kerala's progressive and socialist leanings were in evidence as the local Unions had negotiated free housing, decent vacation time, free medical care, child care and early education facilities for worker families, in addition to some retirement benefits, and a daily wage of Rs.114 (plus performance bonuses for collecting >21 kgs of tea per day). It was fascinating stuff, made all the more real by Prabhu with his personal experience as a child of a tea plantation worker.

Shobhita and Sarvesh had fun mounting various rocks that dotted the tea plantation, causing Chitra one or two heart palpitations in the process. Then came a steep descent back to the road, punctuated by an array of royal blue "Morning Glory" wildflowers that gleamed in the early afternoon sunshine.

After our exertions, we were all in the mood for a hearty (late) lunch. We found Hotel Saravana Bhava (that had eluded us the previous evening), right in the thick of the Munnar city chaos. Chitra was in seventh heaven as she ordered the "South Indian Meals", an assortment of curries with almost unlimited quantities of rice served on a big banana leaf, the first time, she told us, she had had this pleasure in 20 years!

Once we were done and dusted, it was ~3.30, which left us just enough time to drive to the Lockheart Gap. It took a while to get out of Munnar as our driver rather strangely picked a fight with a traffic police officer and proceeded to spend several minutes on the kerb-side in a shouting match. Finally we were free of the city shackles and back in storybook scenery with tea plantations stretching out to the horizon amidst various shades of mountains. Lockheart Gap is ~13km from Munnar, so we soon reached its vicinity. Just before its summit, we passed through a cavernous section where the road narrowed sharply and was hugged by the trees to the side. Here of all places, we got stuck behind a group of cyclists from England. There was as much to admire in their adventurous spirit as there was to question in their wisdom. We mused as to how much experience they had had with Indian mountain traffic?

At length, we extricated ourselves and strolled about the Lockheart Gap area, both at the peak and lower down in the tea estates, which had conveniently positioned walking paths through their heart. But the now-familiar evening weather patterns were taking over and dull skies were followed by drizzle and then heavy rain. We got another good view of the tea plantations, but a good soaking too, so maybe one could question our adventurous spirit too!

Anyhow, as if to prove the point about Indian driving, on our return journey, our driver proceeded to career down the twisty mountain roads at breakneck pace, placing far too much trust in his horn (or maybe his X-ray visual abilities to see round corners) and the brakes of his Indica. Eventually, we felt compelled to intervene and ask for a bit of a restraint. He shot us back one of those: "leave me to do what I do best" glances and continued at only a slightly moderated pace. But as the old maxim goes, better lucky than good, and we steered clear of trouble and landed back at the Greenview Hotel intact.

Kerala Day 8: Soaking in More of Munnar; Venturing into Marayoor

2009-11-07T04:04:00.000-08:00

Early morning, after a hearty breakfast at Saravana Bhavan (we were old-time patrons there by now!), we set off for Mattupetty Dam, which we had seen so memorably from the Munnar Hills the previous day. Our driver serendipiteously dropped us at the left corner of the dam, which allowed us to avert rather neatly the teeming mass of tourists that clogged the dam itself, along with the various stores that lined it. We walked off through some forested areas along a twisty path that wound itself all the way up to the Chottukunadu Tea Estate. It was an idyllic stroll through the main roads of this estate, hugging the Madupetty Dam on one side, and the steep tea-filled slopes on the other. There was life all around us. Tea workers weeding and fertilizing the fields, others picking the tea plants, tiny trucks carting new tea saplings or workers to various fields, and ladies on their way to work at the Assistant Manager's bungalow that abutted one of the fields. There was also the odd mini-waterfall and the merry morning chirping (and occasional sighting) of various birds, and beautifully scented air. It was our own mini-paradise.

But we couldn't go on forever. Eventually we turned back and after 2 hours of serenity, we found ourselves back at the rather rumbustuous bridge, which was chock-a-block with exuberant and voluble college students, some of whom seemed bent on teetering into the Dam itself. We beat a hasty exit and drove off on the renowned Top Station road..

Our next port of call was the Kundala Dam, surrounded by deep Shola forests. Unfortunately, we had lost our race with the college kids. Within about 20 minutes of our arrival at that dam, a whole host of them descended on us, puncturing the air with their excited shrieks and yells. Vijay was determined to boat on the dam. Chitra in true doting mother mode had total apoplexy with visions of Sarvesh (especially) tumbling into the expansive Kundala waters. We compromised with about 20 minutes of peddle boating, with Vijay propelling and Shobhita as arch-navigator. It was about the lowest key environment you can imagine, but that didn't assuage Chitra's trepidations and the 3 boaters were treated to her sporadic yelps whenever Sarvesh leant forward or stuck his hand out of the peddle boat

By the time we got to Top Station, we were feeling fully satiated with Munnar landscape and walking through a final, high altitude tea landscape with beautiful views of the Tamil flat lands beyond the ridges was quite magical. Low-lying clouds moving into the valleys in mid-afternoon flirted with the landscape, sometimes obscuring our view, and sometimes parting to let in the sun. We sauntered along until we had truly filled our sensual coffers before bidding farewell for Munnar and setting off for Marayoor.

We had read that the route between these two towns is one of the most spectacular in the Western Ghats. But since we were fresh off some quite amazing vistas in Munnar, we wondered if this could be reality or just internet hyperbole. The first half of this mountain drive continued the theme of tea plantations - pretty, but nothing new. But as we passed over some ridges, the landscape turned decidedly more wild. Sheer mountain slopes, often encrusted in dense foliage, dotted with untamed waterfalls. And patches of disshevelled roads to which our maniacal driver seemed completely oblivious. It was a wonder we didn't land up in a waterfall ourselves! Heavy clouds added a touch of mystery to the landscape, intoxicating in its blend of stone, water, and grass. We caught our breath when we turned a corner to chance upon an awe-inspiring tableau with acres of slopes leading up to a crashing waterfall. After gaping open-mouthed for a few minutes, we both declared this to be a worthy entrant into our top 10 of scenery witnessed anywhere around the globe. My, were we past cultivated land or what!

After a few more stops, we arrived at Marayoor Township, a small hamlet with little to recommend itself. The Chandana Residency Hotel is likely the only place even remotely approaching luxury, but it was completely booked up for 10 days by a film crew. So we stayed one night at the dusty Marayoor Tourist Home, and another at a similar Inn, neither of which we would recommend, although they did put a safe roof above our heads. The Surya Bhavan All-Vegetarian dhaba was fair enough, although not approaching our beloved Saravana Bhava of Munnar. But what they lacked in culinary style, they made up for with a homely kindness which got Shobhita and Sarvesh going on ghee and rice, introducing them to the "South Indian Meal" (as described in yesterday's blog entry).

We had switched drivers from taciturn (and maniacal) Munish of Munnar to a more even-keeled Abu of the local vicinity. He took us to the nearby Muniyara (stone age burial sites or Dolmens) that dotted the Marayoor landscape, the most notable ones being adjacent to the local high school, which is built into a rock face. It was eerie to contemplate that across continents, about 10,000 years ago, humans buried their dead in a similar manner, in stone chambers decorated by 2-3 stone slabs (standing vertically and horizontally). The fading light of late evening and the mandatory (but gentle) rain prevented us roaming up the rock ridges to enjoy a better perspective of the Muniyara. But nonetheless, the stage had been perfectly set for our encounter with primordial nature at Chinnar Wildlife Refuge, and the Rock paintings and tribal settlements of the region.

Kerala Day 9: Exploring Chinnar's Wild Nature and Life; Our Excursion into India's Pre-History?

2009-11-07T03:46:00.000-08:00

We knew one thing about Chinnar Wildlife Refuge: it would be a sharp environmental contrast from Munnar, being located in the rain shadow of the Western Ghats. Unfortunately, our epic pre-vacation planning sessions had not turned up too much more information which, for the pathological scripters that we are, left us in the uncharacteristic situation of making things up as we went along.

The first shocker was getting to the Alampetty checkpost on schedule at 8am only to find it deserted. Milk bottles delivered and standing outside the shut office indicated that someone was expected there at some time, but we were out of luck. So a further 10km onto the main Chinnar Centre. We did spot a wild peacock trotting nonchalantly across the road replete with a rich blue flock of feathers. A promising start to our quest for wildlife, we thought!

As we approached the Chinnar Checkpost, we were greeted by a gaggle of Bonnet Macaque monkeys, one of which leapt agilely onto the hood of our car. In the nick of time we slammed our doors shut before they ventured inside and carefully disembarked from the other side. Fortunately, the office here was open and the tribal guides ready to leave on treks. We could immediately sense the drier and warmer air that marks out Chinnar from its surrounding lands.

In all honesty, approaching 9am, we were already rather late for wildlife viewing but undeterred, we made the bold decision to try the 10km "Vasyappara hike" with a tribal guide. In retrospect it was exceedingly gutsy, given that we were starting into the warmth of the mid-morning, and would be walking uphill through parched land.

The Vasyappara hut is a camp site about 5 kms from the base, up high on a ridge that overlooks one of the few water sources in Chinnar. In early morning and late evening it is often a guaranteed theatre seat to spy on the marauding wildlife in the plain below. As it turned out (and contrary to the advice we had got from the Warden's office when calling from Connecticut), we could have booked a tree-top machan to spend the night near the Refuge, or even a night at the Vasayappara Hut itself. This latter option would have been a quite an experience as the environment is extremely wild with no water supply, and 4 guides are needed to help campers manage through a night stay. Ah well, there is always next time ...

The hike was as much an endurance test for Chitra and the kids as it was a beautiful trek. She's still glad she did it, and holds that it was probably good training for our inevitable trekking someday in the African scrub! Our journey was also enlivened by Sivakumar, a local Tamil-speaking tribal guide who matched Thattekad's Sudheesh for enthusiasm and knowledge of the domain.

The start of our trek (yes, it truly deserved this label!) took us through a base village. Akin to our Kochi Backwaters sojourn into the villages, we noticed a nearly pristine condition in which villagers maintained their homes and surroundings, and the odours were accordingly unspoilt. With our trusty camcorder, we can capture many moments that previously would have been left to the mercy of our memories. But that still leaves the smells of our travels which are much harder to depict. The first time this really occurred to us was at Yellowstone Park a couple of years back where the odour of the simmering calder was almost half the experience. India is similar in that sense. It is really only in urban parts that the unpleasant food and garbage smells arise. Our past four days had been all nature and the little villages were distinctly absent of garbage. So instead, the scents were a mix of flowers, warmth, water growths and dung (both cow dung that is used to face the walls and floors of homes, water and bison/elephant dung that dries in the sun). Being herbivores, this does not stink - we felt it was really just the smell of rural life. Indeed, it seemed clear to us that the rural villagers are more respectful of our landscape than the average urban/suburban middle-classer. However, it was amusing to note that even the humblest home was adorned with a satellite dish, creating an interesting blend of the Tulsi plant and Dish TV! Only in India ...!

As expected, citing wildlife in the rising hot sun, was somewhat challenging, but we saw a variety of birds including the Japanese Bush Warbler (White crested bird), a Black Hooded Oriole almost up close and personal, and a Red-Whiskered Bulbul flying overhead, while several Sunbirds bounced around the upper branches of trees. Shobhita also spotted small brown-tailed Lizard scurrying into the cactus plants. Mid-way through our walk, we began to swing upwards along the ridge of some mounds, steadily walking around imposing hills to the camp site. Wild cherry trees dotted the slope, and Sivakumar pointed out the footprints of running deer.

We emerged from the lower woodlands to a rocky outcropping with a fabulous view of the surrounding plains. How different it all looked to the lush tea plantations and thundering waterfalls a mere 25 kms away! We could smell Bison who must have passed by early that morning. Vijay found a Hoopoe bird (Kupu in Tamil), the Malkoha with blue face, back and wings, and a tiny Tailor bird with its sharp, needle-like beak with which it stitches large leaves into a snuggly nest with spider web thread!

We heard a variety of animal and bird calls during our walk, including the repeated wails of the peacock but no wildlife of size. Around 11.20 am we arrived at Vyasapara Camp, a pair of stone huts with an overhanging thatched roof propped up with log columns. The hut is faced with dried dung and mud, and kept spotless. Inside the hut was pretty rustic but with bedding and chairs. We think the overnight camp through the tribal office is well worth doing.

We contented ourselves by pulling chairs onto the mud verandah and soaking in the unspoilt world around us. The hut is built into the side of a hill, in a natural cliff in the rocks, thus providing a wonderful view of the gaping plains below. It may not be the Serengeti Plain, but the flat valley surrounded by menacing mountains (bare at the top but dotted with trees towards their base) was ambrosia to the eyes. The valley is replete with assorted dry forest trees that provide enough shade for wild bison, elephants and deer to hide from the heat.

Sarvesh, in contrast to our somnolent state, dug around avidly in the scrub, finally finding a pair of stag antlers which he then used as a spade to dig up ants and other insects! As the clock ticked past noon, the shadows lengthened a bit in the valley below and we woke up from a light nap. The Sundaram family is known for its jam-packed days, so a siesta was somewhat atypical for us! As we looked up, our patience (if we can so label our nap!) was rewarded with a view of a herd of bison clearly visible to the naked eye.

We then set off towards a known water source (around 1pm) in hopes of seeing more. A welcome breeze had begun to blow and magpie robins flitted around us. One could see several dried streams and waterfalls tracks as we walked to the secondary viewing point. Secure with our own water supply, we could still appreciate the stress placed on the wildlife through the long dry season. For instance, the "water source" that we reached was really just a very shallow pool, rapidly depleting, but a critical oasis for the residents of the plain. We were now perched on a broad rock ledge overlooking the puny pool, and this provided us with another serene 20 minutes of enjoying the still air, and the myriad of animal/bird hoots around us. Several Spotted Owls flew from tree-to-tree below. And we waited. Shobhita's theory was the Owl's calls were frightening away the Bison! But wildlife or not, it was a quite memorable scene, atop of the rock precipice with a bird's eye view of the world below, and one we will carry in our minds for years to come. We did eventually get a sighting of several spotted deer grazing in a meadow a fair bit away, complete with a lordly stag. Distances are deceptive from this perspective, and while the animals looked fairly close, it was apparent that it would take them several hours to make their way to the water hole.

We climbed back down from the cliff edge, and started making our way through pure scrub down the sides of the hill. It was truly a scramble as the kids and we slid and scraped our way down the scree slopes behind Sivakumar, who used a wicked looking machete-style knife to cut through various undergrowth and branches that encroached on our self-created path

The way back was as exciting as the way out, highlighted by finding leopard footprints in the mud (thankfully dried, but only from a day or so ago!) and Sivakumar feeding us brilliant red cactus fruit. It tasted like pomeranate, and Chitra's hands stained a macabre crimson when Sivakumar popped the fruit out of their thick skin into the palm of her hand. Bison and Elephant footprints ran riot in the mud, as did screeching Parakeets and Leaf Birds in the trees. Despite these flurries of life, the atmosphere was still primordial and overwhelming. During one section, Sarvesh, who had been reading Ganesha and Kartikeya comics through the vacation, decided to sit in a shady spot and pray to Lord Ganesha for a boon. The surrounding became very quiet and you could imagine how the legends of yore might appear so plausible in the primitively beautiful surroundings of Chinnar. Our over-vivid imaginations half expected to see an Anthill growing around Sarvesh if he kept up his penance, or for a powerful God to appear before a devotee on the parched plain!

As we tracked back through the tribal village and past a raging river (whose banks we would visit the next day), we finally got an upclose view of the Common Giant squirrel hanging from tree, its enormous tail protruding. This is a cousin of the Malabar Giant squirrel, a resident of Munnar that we were not fortunate enough to encounter.

Oddly enough, the trek had whetted our appetite to imbibe more of this amazing landscape. After a welcome tumbler of coffee at the base-camp canteen, we de-camped to the Alampetty Checkpost, which was finally open and running! We then embarked on a 1km walk to some Stone Age Rock Paintings and Muniyara (Dolmens) which are a prized treasure of this vicinity. Akin to the Vasyappara trek, there was not even a suggestion of hiking trail anywhere in sight so we were once again beholden to our trusty Tribal Guides. These folks are justifiably proud of their heritage, respectful of their environment, and kindly of our ignorance and we felt eminently safe in their care. The Dolmens were sombre and prolific, while the rock paintings were awe-inspiring. Few had survived what German archeologists dated to be about 10,000 years of sun-damage, but the colors stood out, the lines were elegants, and the pictures amazingly modern. There was even one of a man with a net either fishing or processing some kind of food/grain/meat! Again, we mused on the remarkable similarity of ancient life across the globe. We could have been at Stonehenge, or the Chauvet and Lascaux caves in Provence (France) and we would be seeing similar art work, similar painting materials and similar burial traditions. The mind boggles.

On our way back to the car, the guide pointed out a cave built high up on a ledge, only accessible to archeologists via a ladder dangling from the top, in which they had found ceiling paintings. Imagine a New Stone Age Michelangelo!

Kerala Day 10: Leaving God's Own Country with a Shower of Blessings!

2009-11-06T16:58:00.000-08:00

It was time to unwind now. We had seen such a diverse variety of locales during our visit. From the flat plains of coastal Kochi, to the quiet villages of the backwaters, the steamy valleys of Thattekad, the imposing mountains of Munnar and Marayoor, and the parched plains of Chinnar. Wow! And the people we had met, the good, the bad and the ugly, had added much needed spice to our wanderings, and many will be the interactions to cause us to smile, shudder, or roll with laughter in days to come.

On this, our last day in Kerala, we decided to give it a last try on the wildlife viewing side, courtesy of an early morning walk with Sivakumar along the river that tumbles down from Munnar's rain-fed mountains all the way through Chinnar. Alas, we did not see too much wildlife outside of the Hanuman Langur (with baby!) (left photo) and another surge of frisky Bonnet Macaque monkeys. But it was still a walk worth remembering, especially the lovely leafy verge along the river, the twisted roots of trees that hung over the water front, and the sandy shore where Shobhita and Sarvesh built a little mud dam and completely saturated their only pairs of pants! En route, we met a cute couple from France (husband is from Mexico), who had spent the night at a tree-top machan and were walking back with their guide to base camp.

There were a few last vestiges of bird life with a statuesque Stork-billed Kingfisher (left photo) tottering on a branch and struggling to digest a bulbous fish it had swooped to snare a few seconds earlier. Along with a large Fish Owl, motionless on a nearby branch until it spread its wings and soared into distance.

But all too soon it was at an end and time to depart for our final leg in Palakkad. This was a 2 hour drive which traversed the Kerala/Tamil Nadu border twice. Vijay as usual stayed busy, making holiday notes on his Blackberry, while Chitra and the kids took the opportunity to slip in and out of slumber. One thing that hit us as we drove through Tamil Nadu was the profusion of Ganapathi statues and stalls. It belatedly hit us that today was indeed Ganesh Chathurthi! We enjoyed watching the gaudily decorated stalls that lined the road, and benign Lord Ganesha in his various poses blessing us.

We arrived at Palghat and were back in a tropical paradise, complete with sudden showers, backed by humid, sweltering weather. We had been quite nicely acclimatized through Kochi and Thattekad, but Munnar and Marayoor had clearly spoilt us with their cooler, drier climes. We made a beeline for Palakkad's Tipu Sultan Fort, where we tried to bring back to life for the kids Haider Ali's and Tipu's last ditch rebellion against the European powers enveloping India. As we walked through the mostly unadorned fort, we pondered the brief time in history when the Badami rulers stood up against the Imperialists. How many such rebellions had failed, primarily because all of them were localized and lacked a national unity platform. Within the Fort one could still see some small signs of the original buildings, but otherwise most of it had been taken over by Colonial Taluka offices that were now in a sad state of repair. You could still smell Raj Times though, and we fully expected to see a Gora Sahib stride out of the tile-roofed office to check things out before Tiffin time!

From the Fort, and after a hearty lunch of Chola Batura at a local diner (it was 3pm before we settled down to eat), we decided to head out to Kalpathy to visit Vijay's Palakkad Tamil ancestors who had migrated to that little corner of the then Madras State ~800 years ago. Kalpathy has since been designated a World Heritage Site, and the Government of Kerala encourages a walking tour of the place. According the The Hindu newspaper, the site represents one of the earliest settlements of Tamil Panditjis who migrated to support the King of Palakkad's ritualistic needs, and Wikipedia discusses the erudite scholarship of yesteryear Panditjis at various forums sponsored by the Sringeri and Kanchi Shankara Peethams. Our interest was of course all personal, to touch a piece of family history, and we were not disappointed. The central street that connected the Vishwanatha Kohvel (temple) at one end with the Mahaganapathy Kohvel at the other was replete with old-fashioned, low-roofed homes with the typical columns supporting the front porch, and sweetly intricate decorations (mango leaves, geometric patterns) carved into the wooden supports to the roof. As we watched elderly Mamis dressed in their 9-yard saris sitting at the front porch, one was reminded of R.K. Laxman's representation of rural India (he was also of Palakkad descent!).

We were in search of the Shiva temple, corner stones of which have dated it to 1425 AD, thus making it the oldest Shiva temple in the Malabar (North Kerala) area. We spotted a little stone temple on the other side of the road, which we abruptly realized was the Ganapathe Temple. So fate had sent us to a Ganesh Temple on Ganesh Chathurthi in our ancestral village! In all our rough hiking gear, we crept into the temple. On a platform in front of the main sanctum was a beautifully decorated Ganesh Murti to which puja had clearly been conducted that morning. To our delight, we realized that a Carnatic Music kutcheri (concert) was about to start. The next hour and half was spent in the company of a local troupe (vocalist, violinist and mridangist), enjoying kritis to Ganesha, Devi, Shiva and Murugan, as well as Rama and Krishna. It brought an incomparable peace to our souls.

As the Mangalam sounded and the kutcheri drew to a close and we stepped down to do namaskaram, we were a tad puzzled to see the doors to the main sanctum close. Almost immediately there was the resonant sound of Nadaswaram. We knew something was afoot! On cue the doors opened and Sri Maha Ganapathy was revealed in all his finery, with bunches of oil lamps lit around him, in a typical Kerala style, and a the Panditji holding a fine conical aarti plate glowing with multiple diyas. What a darshan! Our cup was overflowing...starting the trip as we had with a missed Darshanam of Lord Krishna, ending it with such a powerfully auspicious celebration. As a famous lyricist once said, "we must have done something good...".

From then on, all we could do was to imbibe all our wonderful experiences quietly. We visited the Shiva temple; the kids and Chitra gate-crashed a Jaanvasa (engagement procession) ongoing in the Mandapam attached to the Ganesh temple (Shobhita liked the cut of the Bridegroom's jib). But the multifarious flames of the aarti lamps was to stay with us all the way back to Connecticut, deep in our hearts.

Kerala: Final Thoughts …

2009-11-06T16:57:00.000-08:00

The Train thundered into the Palakkad station and our tired family sprinted after Sleeper class that contrary to all indications slid well past us. At last ... loaded up into our upper and middle berths the kids fell into a satisfying sleep, and Vijay determinedly put on his eye-patch and ear-plugs before laying down. Chitra couldn't sleep though too keyed up from all the experiences we had enjoyed. Moreover, Sarvesh insisted on sleeping in the upper berth and as a result, Chitra kept waking up in constant dread of seeing him tumbling off. Once everyone was asleep, she tied her bedsheet into a kind of cradle across the supports holding up the upper berth to prevent that impending catastrophe! On our train journey to Kerala, we had butted heads with a few in the day train, but we hadn't seen any thus far on the night train. Maybe it was the fewer food sellers on the night trains? It was also interesting to note a sort of beggar code of conduct that prevented them from loading up on the night train (even when it stopped at stations). Or perhaps beggars need to sleep too (duh!). What remains to report from our trip? Come 6.50am and we disembarked at Yeshwanthpur Station. There was a predictable scrummage of passengers piling down a slope from the platform, only to realize there were no steps yet built from its base down to the road. Several proceeded to scramble down a mud-heap to the road. We just walked the length of the platform to the main exit, before (in true American style) proceeding to pick a fight with a car that was trying to do a U-Turn by crossing onto the pedestrian pavement! Vijay, refused to move, a nod to non-violent civil disobedience against the imperalist car bullying Indian neighbourhoods. After a stand-off of several minutes, the driver had to reverse shamefacedly and find a way to turn on the actual road (what an imposition!) What memories and what images! We are quite stunned that our rather complicated itinerary panned out in a fairly flawless manner. There were people who caused problems, but an equal number that stepped forward to help and make our journey comfortable and unforgettable. Sare Jahaan saye Acha Hindustaan Humara (of all the places, our India is surely the best)!

Coming Soon: Our Recommendations and Dos/Don’ts of Kerala …