Tag: Cochin

  • Hortus

    We’re shifting geography a bit – to the Queen of the Arabian Sea – Cochin. Hortus is located on the third floor of The Avenue Center Hotel in Panampilly Nagar. Think of the area as Cochin’s version of a love child of Indiranagar (which has a past, and still tries to fight commercial infiltration), and Koramangala (which is increasingly looking like the future). Houses and fancy eateries continue to coexist in a tense standoff. But let’s digress a bit more before we think of digest.

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  • Three score and ten

    He was a shadow of his former self, and his memory was not what it used to be. But I could see his eyes light up when he was reminded of who I was. We spoke a bit, and I like to think that a bit of his joviality returned in those brief moments. My interactions with him are more than three decades old, and our memories of each other are probably a bigger bond than any relationship we have. He complimented my demeanour, much to the annoyance of the other M. He passed away a few weeks later. These days, I am ambivalent about meeting old people. On one hand, I think I’d like to remember them in their prime. But then again, there is a good chance that I’d be meeting them for the last time. So these days, when I do meet, my behaviour factors that in.

    The worst thing about death is the fact that when a man is dead it is impossible any longer to undo the harm you have done him, or to do the good you haven’t done him…They say: live in such a way as to be always ready to die. I would say: live in such a way that anyone can die without you having anything to regret.

    Leo Tolstoy, (via Arthur C. Brooks’ From Strength to Strength)

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  • Mall me, maybe

    On a Friday last month, D and I decided to do something on a whim. We broke our now established weekend pattern of ‘logically arguing’ with ourselves and deciding to stay at home and watch a movie on OTT. Off(line) we went to the neighbourhood mall to watch a Malayalam movie, which turned out to be excellent, though the movie hall was just about half-packed. Since we’d had an early dinner, we decided to drop in at a Third Wave that we thought was new. But we hadn’t been to the mall in ages, and couldn’t be sure.

    In a lovely post titled Fountains of Youths, Jamie Loftus visits food courts from Alaska to Arizona and talks to teens about the local mall, and their favourite fare at the food courts. As I read it, I found myself time travelling to the 80s. To Suburban Store in well, the suburbs of Cochin. It was a department store but with malls being non-existent this was magic enough for me. They had two aisles full of toys after all. In the 90s, it was Abad Plaza on Cochin’s main street, the only place that had French fries! 🙂

    Zoom to the early 2000s and Transit at the Forum Mall, Koramangala was a regular hangout. We weren’t teens, but if Jamie talked to us, we would have had a few perspectives. In the 2010s, when Phoenix opened shop in Whitefield, we used to make the trek twice a year from Koramangala for the end of season sale. And chocolate momos at the food court were a ritual.

    Our visits have dwindled since then, and just before COVID, I was melancholic about my snobbery (or about finally adulting?) when passing through a food court, I realised that my sensibilities had changed to an extent where I asked D, how we could have eaten this! And in the context of the mall, “why are so many people here!” 😐

    At 10PM, we were one of a handful of customers at Third Wave. I sat sipping a Chamomile (I had given up after experiments at home, but thanks to this, realised that it is possible not to thoroughly destroy something!). The shops were closed and my cherished people-gawking pastime was impossible, but I realised I liked this. Late night in an empty mall. The coffee shop is adjacent to a book store and I told D that I missed the ‘discoveries’ at book stores. Amazon has spoilt me.

    One of two other customers at the coffee shop was an elderly man. It was only when his driver (I think) came to wheel him out that I noticed he was in a wheelchair. He tried to convince his helper to have something, and failed. He left, checking out books as the security watched him, and smiling at us as he went past. I sighed. A few minutes later, we paid and left. Once upon a time we would have walked home, but the roads have too many dogs that turn to dire wolves. Once upon a time, I’d have carried a stick, but now a fight has too many downsides.

    Something has shifted in me, I realised, as I turned back to look at the mall before getting into the cab. Maybe I will give Crossword some of my book business. And every once in a while, watch a movie in theatres. Discovery doesn’t just work for books. There is a joy in seeing other people laugh at the jokes while watching a movie, smiling back at an old man in a wheelchair in a mall at 10PM, and just seeing people outside the confines of a screen or an office. It seems we have come full circle. We are human again.

  • Clarity begins at home

    Maybe it’s a 40s thing, or maybe it’s just me projecting my top-of-the-mind thought on to others, but these days, ‘the place to retire to’ is a recurring theme in many conversations with friends. Once upon a time, in line with Pico Iyer’s “Home is not just the place where you happen to be born. It’s the place where you become yourself”, Bangalore was an obvious choice. A few years ago, Cochin got back into the consideration set, as I veered more towards who I was than what my self image was. The mind and its narratives.

    During a recent trip to Cochin, when a classmate described my school-self to D, I had a moment straight out of a Kazuo Ishiguro book. He is one of my favourite writers, and at least two of his books feature narrators with flawed memory constructions. In the books, it is fascinating to watch the peeling of reality against the narrator’s reconstructions. Ishiguro is kind, and usually brings the narrator down gently. In my case, I was first shocked to realise how I was like one of his narrators, and then pleasantly surprised at how my friend remembered me. Maybe he was being kind. But this isn’t the first time. When a similar recollection about me had happened with one of our other classmates during a reunion a few years ago, I had brushed it off as his false narrative. Because my own perception of who I was then was different. But after this, I realised that this was the key to Cochin behaving like a magnet!

    In Capital, Rana Dasgupta wrote – ‘when one becomes homesick, it is not a place that one seeks, but oneself, back in time.’ Despite my conscious mind’s narrative constructions, my subconscious probably remembers it more accurately. It remembers someone whose sense of humour did not have the cynicism that an adult life gifted it. Someone whose whistling skills seemed like magic to his friends because it was not self-conscious. Maybe, by pulling me back to a place, the mind believes it can also pull me back to a time and a self that was happy with itself. That him who I was.

    And maybe it’s not just that. Before I left Cochin, I made it a point to visit an old hangout. An aunt’s home. My mother’s cousin, whose granddaughters were roughly my age, but insisted on calling me ammava (uncle) especially in public. My memories of that place and my aunt, and these I am sure of because there are physical spaces that could testify to it, are ones I cherish and am deeply grateful for. The place and the person brought a sense of warmth and security to a teen life that was troubled by loss, and a mind that did not even realise it was unmoored. I see the afternoons and evenings I have spent there as an incomparable act of kindness. A refuge from the world at large.

    So maybe what drags me back to Cochin is a little more than who I was. It is also about those around me at a certain stage of my life. The friends who made me feel special. The people who made me feel secure. And places that are so deeply etched in my memory that it would be impossible to feel lost even now. Even as I realise that the places and people may no longer be around and that this construct is one that fits the current idea that I have of myself, I also think that somehow the mind will conspire to project an environment that can anchor me.

    P.S. As I began writing this, I had an intense sense of deja-vu. Very meta. I had gone through these thoughts before, I was sure. And indeed I had. That is somehow reassuring.

  • Kochi Chronicles – Part 4

    Kumbalangi, as made famous in Kumbalangi Nights! The second time we play tourists in Cochin.

    Grand Hyatt. We had to see the place after Jayasurya’s Sunny. What a view!
    They have a sunset cruise, but we were told that that the boat was ‘unwell’!
    But the fantastic views along the walking path made up for it.
    Dinner at Colony Clubhouse & Grill at the hotel. Surprisingly good food!
    Tip: Choose the city side view for a change
    Breakfast at Gokul Oottupura, behind the Siva temple. Now a regular part of the itinerary.
    There’s something about Puri Bhaji in Kerala 😀 By the way, their dosa chilli chutney is amazing.
    Fish curry meals at The Grand is another fixed part of the itinerary.
    Welcome to the Aquatic Island Resort, Kumbalangi
    It’s all ‘floating’, and the bedroom is below the waterline. No, you don’t get to see it as you might in a submarine.
    First stop – Chellanam harbour. Less than 30 mins away. Walk the causeway there.
    For local cabs, call JJ Tours and ask for Vivek.
    Puthenthodu beach. In the evening, you can watch the Beach Soccer League in full flow! 🙂
    Cross the district border to reach Andhakaranazhi in Alleppey. Vivek’s suggestion. Quiet, with only locals around.
    Images never do justice. Anjilithara Road is just a mud track at one end, but the sereneness is out of the world. 5 mins walk from the resort.
    The breakfast view from the resort restaurant.
    Cherai for lunch. This is Chilliout. Funny name, but clean and pretty!
    Not to mention, great seafood. Squid and tuna.
    Cherai beach seemed surprisingly not much to talk about. This is high tide, but…
    Kuzhuppilly on the other hand, was lovely. Stretching indefinitely, and full of erm, love birds!
    The Vypin lighthouse as seen from the Puthuvype beach
    Puthuvype beach. Unfortunately not very well maintained.
    The National Shrine Basilica of Our Lady of Ransom (I kid you not) aka Vallarpadam Basilica 
    Remember this, from Kumbalangi Nights?
    If you know what OMKV stands for, you might drop in only for that kick!
    But you also have a beautiful sunset view here.
    One that you can enjoy while you eat absolutely local stuff.
    The Pal kappa was so-so, but we loved the kappa (beef) biriyani
    It’s hard to say goodbye, but we’ll be back in a bit