As I bravely turned out the covers over my head that I had been hiding myself over the past few days or so, I came up to a beautiful Thekkady. Long travels are amazing but they can somehow find a way to worm into your psyche and wear you out. Admittedly, moreover in a guilty manner, I felt I had to shut off the world and from everything that moved and made a sound... probably including my own reflection. Perhaps this "break" from a break would do wonders but I haven't really felt the full effect yet. Although I am feeling brave enough to venture out to write about simply the most enthreal expriences that we had gone through since arriving in Kerala, the land of coconuts, trees, nuts and all!
The South of India oozes with a kind of fertility that only the vast stitched green pockets of never ending padi fields could lay out as a welcome, adorned by sashaying coconut palms that gently run their long leafy fingers, playing cooling shadows on the lightly dusty paths that lead you on a journey to a land loved by the Gods. Our train pulled onto a bright sunny morning that screamed of hotness and humidity that promised a positive day, enticed more by the thought of a cooling lime juice. Making (or shall I say continuing?) the journey to Fort Kochi from Ernakulam was a mad harrowing line of queuing and fending off irritating wanderers that seemed to like to breach the one-arm private space (what private space?) asking for a dollar while you were holding on to your spot. The ferry ride was bum numbing slow yet exciting as we passed by old looking remnants of Dutch and Portugese colonisations on the fort, hence imparting a legacy of curious mixture between the local customs, cuisine, and maybe a bit of song and dance, muscles and all - much to our own amusing discovery much, much later.
Our days in Fort Kochi was spent walking by the coast, digging into copious amounts of fresh seafood but also some extremely delicious Malabar dishes (I looked at prawns differently now), peppered by more mango ice cream and feeling (truly feeling) the wind in your hair. It's a strange feeling like we had stepped back into the good old pre-Independence Malaya days of our country. The pedestrians, their style of communication and daily wear, the smell of the sea, the bicycles, just the general easygoing feeling reminded us of a time that we only could recalled through history books and texts at school, while we reached deep into the vaults of our memories of growing up in a small town that perhaps, held the tail ends of a bygone era. It was a good era, and it was even more fantastic to experience a slice of it, here in a town thousands of miles away from home. The afternoons were extremely stuffy but what we paid for returned in the gentle caress of the evening goddess. Hence we were lured into the womb of an enchanting, surreal jewel box that opened up more secrets of the old practices. Welcome to the world of Kalarippayattu, Kathakali, and Classical Indian Dances.
Kalarippayattu, a form of Dravidian martial art that holds an esteemed position in Kerala has the pride of being one of the oldest, if not the oldest, form of fighting systems in the world. Yes, throw in a good measure of jaguar leaps in the air, clashing of iron shields and swords, rippling muscles that tightened in gritty form as their practitioners demonstrated the fine art of defence, attack, and to kill. History and myth even had it that an ancient Buddhist monk had brought this sacred knowledge back to China, thus sprouting a new branch of self dence that is popularly known today as kung fu. The modern lass in me was dumbfounded as the Kalarippayattu team of the Keralan Cultural Centre took to stage with skills and technique that were honed by years of dedicated practice. What we found inspiring were that these lads took onto the art purely for the love of it - there is no current government support and they rely completely on word of mouth through travellers to form an ongoing audience in order to share the art - and most if not all, came from a poor fishermen family background. One of them, perhaps of the more skillful fighters, had a slightly bad leg and we learned that it was not due to a former injury.
Instead of being given up for good, this man fought through early age Polio and rose to become a dashing knight of Kalarippayattu. What hubby discovered in the Dutch Palace was even more spice to the broth. Their elder ancestors were part of the colonisers' army and they were that skilled in adapting to the Western military training as well as intermingling their own brand of Kalarippayattu that the British, once took sight of their "soldiers" decided to band the latter's practice - just in case anyone disputed over some cream and scones?
Besides seducing the mind with the likes of Classical Indian music "jamming" sessions and the Kathakali - ours a tale of how Bhima slayed the demon Bhaka to save the Bhramin from eternal slavery - played out in minute details, what I took to was the invitation to witness as part of the audience of a heavenly court. That very night, it was no woman that was performing the traditional Bharatanatyam. We had angels. Each kajal-eyed expression, each smile, each heartache, shone through passionately through the lyrics and beats of the drums and singer, punctuated by the cling-clang of the cymbals. It was the story of Lord Khrisna and there were the stories of how a baby of the divine God stole the butter, then it was one of the many love stories narrated through the coming and goings of Him and a gopi. I was moved, and I was surprised to be touched by the haunting fingers of the songs and rhythm coming from a tongue that I barely understood. It was beyond the feast of the eyes, the costumes and flowers, the light and shadow all played and paid a divine bow to a God that had bestowed and inspired so many in this Subcontinent on their Hindu culture and song and dance. Whether you are a believer or not, it doesn't really matter. What I saw that night was a celebration of coming together by people and travellers of various grounds. In the end, the applause came as high as the spiers that reached the skies to tell maybe, of a tale of reverence and appreciation for such pure of a performance.
We departed Fort Kochi to move on to Munnar, the highlands of the Western Ghats where we camped out on a simple dwelling that ran fantastic water pressure (and hot!). Our home was in the middle of a huge cardamom plantation and we saw for the first time, what a cardamom fruit looked like before it arrived in our kitchen all pruned and wrinkled! Two nights of cool air and stillness. It was not hard to dream away and relax as the mist covered the valley. The next day we took to some easy hikes including to a vantage point called Hill Station. Much to our delight, you can actually camp there for barely a small fee. As poorly equipped as we were, our boots got us up and down the paths to witness some of the most inspiring rocky structures Nature could plan and hope for us to preserve. It's a kind of beauty that is bare, simple - no real big brass band - yet you can't help but hate yourself for rushing through it. So you sit down and you just stop talking. On the far off hill, you hear a bird screeching, unlike anything you have heard. A Sambar-like deer danced off in the river bed where some cows muddled peacefully away. Our bungalow was built by a plantation manager with some foresight back in 1925 that travellers like you and me today could enjoy a little bit of again, the good old days (smile). Far away, the morning tea pickers could be heard chattering away like happy sparrows while they combed through the acreage, arms rhythmically back and forward, graceful fingers plucking away the precious cargo.
Truly we were spoilt in a house that overlooked the "Seven Hills" hence the name - Kannan Devan Seven Mallay Estate. What's empowering of this place lies with the fact that the plantation is majorly held by the locals, whom became owners by right when the then, Tata Tea exited the holdings. Only a small part of that huge sprawling unending horizong of virgin green is planted and harvested at one go. In turn, you will notice the love and care that had poured into the land. Everything is pristine. Yes, there is commerce, there is production, but you do feel hopeful maybe that man and Nature can co-exist without the marring effects of what you read when you open the morning papers.
I never saw a live woodpecker until now. That little fellow was hammering away at a tree that we walked past below. Images of Woody came back and by golly, I think I almost lost my marbles out of excitement! And yes, we drank tankfuls of tea, tea, and more tea. Plus some really good Keralan Chicken Curry and Chicken 65 (spices perhaps?). Comfortable plushy bed, some cookies, it was very hard to be stressed.
Today we did an early morning walk in the Periyar Tiger Sanctuary. Unfortunately (or maybe not?) no tigers but we saw three wildboars with six small piglets burrowing in the mud looking for scrubs. It was quite cute and I never thought that piglets could be any cuter. One of the matriachs sensed us and with a snort, she commanded the whole team to move across the road. It was a perfect unison of movements and freeze actions as the piglets ran and waited for further instructions. Survival depended on intense attention being paid! Far off we heard some deep throated hoons from what we suspected as - apes? Darwin I am not but they were moving too fast in the canopies too high for my neck to crane although we did take time out to play peekaboo with a deer. Hubby caught sight of him and we did the "you can't see me" gig. Of course, all at a respectable distance so that we don't leave the animals flustered.
The nights here are cool and the days refreshing. I played with some calves and an elephant today. Tomorrow will be some more jeep safari-ing before we move out to Alleppey. So far the plan for the South is to "take things easy" but I'm beginning to understand that in India, it is very hard to not do anything and too easy to be overwhelmed (and I am saying this with a smile on my face!). Already my head is swimming with the thought of the week-long yoga in Varkala - meditative stance anyone?
Oh yes one more thing. I took on to the Ayurvedic massages including the Sridodhara treatments. In short, from the very bad that I have succumbed under to the very nice one that I took a relieved sigh from - this is not a spa relaxation session. This is medicative treatment. It is vigorous and intense. Throw in a James Bond-looking box of a steam machine that you sit in with only your head popping out while you well-oiled body is cooked under the vapour, life can't get funnier! But I have to admit, done properly, the after effect will have you sleeping like a baby and eating like a voracious baby elephant. So, althought I was pinched and squashed previously by con-jobs that I had gullibly walked into like a blinded sheep into the wolf butcher, a good Ayurveda session can lift your well being. I learned that it's "treatment" not spa.
Even if you have to tip-toe stark naked onto the treatment bed which looks horribly close like a sizzler pan!
