Tag: Cochin

Kochi chronicles – Part 1

It looks as though the cosmos reads my posts, well almost. The 2 hour bus ride to Cochin was spent near the window seat, close enough to see the night lights. Especially at the stadium where the Kerala Strikers were trouncing their Bollywood opponents in the CCL, and the collective star power was only eclipsed by the floodlights, which dominated the sky. Dinner was the must-have dish on every Cochin trip, from a restaurant which I used to frequent, but whose special dish I discovered much later thanks to a distant relative. The restaurant has shifted since, but thankfully, the dish survived the trip. 🙂

A trip to a hospital which has been witness to many childhood exploits was the first agenda of the next day. The backbone apparently had its own growth agenda, the tangential perks of a daily face to monitor relationship with the computer. Reminders of mortality too, but a trip I was looking forward to was scheduled for later in the day, and that dispelled the morbid thoughts.

Despite living in Cochin for more than two decades, Fort Kochi and Mattancheri had always been faraway places for me. My connection to them, for a long time, had been that they used to be the final destinations of the buses I used to travel in. Whenever I saw someone take a ticket to these places, I used to look at them curiously. A “where do you live, what happens there, what is it like – living there” look. Later, I had quite a few school friends who used to live there, and I knew the names of the localities they lived in and talked about – Cherlai, Kappalandimukku… 🙂 I had a friend in college too, my regular travel companion, who lived in Pandikudy.

But it was only much later, when I started working in Cochin, that I actually visited these places. Despite frequent biriyani trips, I could never master the lane mazes there. An era before Google Maps. And despite the familiarity these trips created, these places, especially Fort Kochi, never lost the little bit of magic it held for me. The last time I visited the place was around 4 years back – part of an official trip, and as a ‘tourist’. 🙂

This time, the other M, my sister, a regular visitor, kept teasing D in front of shops with “Madam, you want Kerala sari?” We went by the synagogue, the Police History Museum, visited Jew Town, and watched the backwaters from a cafe + curios outlet which charged tourists for window shopping. At Fort Kochi, a walk along the Chinese fishing nets was mandatory, and on the wall nearby, someone had painted his expression of the Mullaperiyar controversy. A refreshing iced tea + chocolate cake at the Kashi Gallery+Cafe later, we were on our way back.







But there was one stop left before we got back home. One of my favourite areas in all of Cochin – Willingdon Island. Island, which has always remained the same. From Cochin’s old airport, which was returned to the Navy a long time ago, to the shipping container yards, the KV School grounds, the shipping offices, warehouses past their glory days and now in disrepair, and buildings which seem to tell us stories of another time. The world has changed, and yet they remain, like a living snapshot of another era. These are the places where I learned to drive a car, where numerous hours were spent convincing people to buy broadband internet, where endless cups of tea were consumed dreaming about the future. Time on Island has always stood still for me. We stood by the sea, watching the Vallarpadam container terminal come up, the Rainbow Bridge, Bolgatty and so on, as ferries carried people home.

Cochin might be a big city in the making, but it sleeps early, for now. Even as we got out for dinner, at just after 8, most shops were closed/beginning to close, and traffic was minimal. We had dinner at 14 Avenue, which served some excellent pasta and cannelloni. The best way to end the day is with good chocolate cake, and that’s exactly what we did.

The thing with hometowns is that there are many streets and places which activate memories. It is as though they are always waiting for me, to share a common story, to ask me if I remember, to tell me what has happened since, and if I will pass by to see them the next time I visit. Though our paths have separated since, each road has shared a journey with me, and every time I step on them, I step out of myself and think of the younger me who walked these roads.

until next time, walk on

February 1, 2012
The window seat….

…at night. The sight of a person looking into infinity from within the confines of a moving vehicle. What sparked this memory was a single scene from a song in a movie (Malayalam) that I saw recently – Salt N’ Pepper. Not in this song, which is absolute foodpr0n, but in the other melodious song (2:50 – 3:05) You’ll probably not recognise Shwetha Menon. 🙂

In trains, it works differently for me. The lights are much further away, and flicker, as though desperately trying to get me to imagine their story. In buses, the lights seem much closer, and so are the people outside. Returning from work, knowing they have a night ahead to recoup before they face the daily grind the next day. On their way to meet friends, hoping they’ll have a good time. Rushing home, eager to see a loved one, whom they have missed all day. Stories of hope, stories with a face.

I don’t get to see this these days, but I remember when I was in engineering college and used to return home on weekends. My usual bus dropped me at home by 6, too early for this, but in case I got delayed, I’d be in a plodding bus, half empty, on a route and through a landscape that looked completely different when seen at night. Before I got the Kiney to Goa, the trip from Panjim to Ribandar at night felt just the same. The Mandovi just made it extra special. In my first job, there was a period during which I used to travel daily from Cochin to Paravur, about 20 km away. That was probably the last time I got the window seat in a bus, at night. Ironically, that was also the time I used to go back to an empty home. One of those times, when the spectator had his own story to tell. 🙂

There is something about the window-seat-at-night experience – romantic/ nostalgic/ wistful that makes it special. A feeling that I was not alone in the crowd. It used to give me a sense of peace, a feeling that everything would be alright.

until next time, the bus stops here.

October 19, 2011
Armchair travel plans

If I discount Pico Iyer, the travelogues of Pankaj Mishra, and Mishi Saran’s Chasing the Monk’s Shadow, I hardly read travel books. But I picked up Rahul Jacob’s ‘Right of Passage’ on a whim (influenced by Pico Iyer’s comment on the jacket) and quite liked it, mostly because its really not just a travelogue. Shall publish a more detailed post on that later.

I was hooked on early enough thanks to the last lines of the preface

Still, there is this final paradox of travel: time and again, these memories come back unbidden with the clarity of something that happened yesterday, long after we have returned to the rhythm of our lives

Later in the book, he compares flight travels with train journeys – that he can remember his first flight journey but the rest are a blur. In contrast, however, he remembers most of his train journeys. Though I’m not really the most frequent of fliers, I can relate to that.

I wonder if its to do with memories of childhood, in which train journeys played a very important part (for me), and that affinity meant that later journeys would also be cataloged better by the brain. Or is it the entire set of experiences – from ‘uniform’ airports to passengers consciously avoiding each other even if it means staring resolutely at the seat in front compared to colorful railway stations that seem to be oozing character to seats facing each other and almost forcing conversations?

I juxtaposed this with cities and their culture too. Recently, when I went to Cochin, and dropped in at its most ‘happening’ mall, I wondered how much of homogeneity was being created by malls. The same brands, almost the same store experiences, familiar multiplex chains that somehow give you an air of familiarity even in an unknown town (not Cochin for me, but otherwise). How much of a city’s original hangouts and culture will survive this onslaught? In fact, I even told D that I could already see landmarks of my days in Cochin (local shops famous for some particular item) disappearing and the new ones (like a Nilgiris store) being unfamiliar to me. Would most people prefer familiarity over serendipity? Or would a middle ground be found – carefully packaged serendipity?

Going beyond the things to be seen in a place, every travel experience is also about the discovery of the character of the place you visit. Will we end up creating a homogeneous world, in our constant quest for convenience, and change travel from the train journeys they should be (opinion) to controlled fancy flights?

Fortunately for this generation, this is perhaps not a reality we’ll live to see, and even in the sunset years we will have our memories and photographs and be thankful that not all journeys need travel.

until next time, planed travel

March 2, 2011
Destination Nowhere

My reading habits are quite predictable, and as with most of my habits, they become more concrete over a period of time. I pessimistically call it building my own prison walls, and the statement works across contexts. 🙂

But sometimes I rebel against this. In the case of reading, one of the things I do while shopping is to consciously choose a book that I wouldn’t normally read, or better still, I let D choose a few books. But a better disruption happens during Kerala trips. At D’s parents’ home, I pick up a random book which I normally wouldn’t go anywhere near, and finish it. This time it happened to be Randy Pausch‘s ‘The Last Lecture‘. To give you a quick perspective, the book is based on the last lecture given by Randy Pausch at Carnegie Mellon, and adding to the University’s aim of “what wisdom would you share with the world if it was your last chance?”, he also makes it a message to his young children, since he has been diagnosed with a terminal illness.

In many ways, though personal, it’s the typical inspirational book, but several parts interested me. At one level, the author’s penchant for following childhood dreams struck a chord with me, for I have always entertained a notion that our childhood aspirations are instinctive and free of the baggage of later life. In that sense, it’s perhaps closest to what we’re really meant to do. Debatable, but it’s a belief nevertheless. 🙂 The professor also gives perspectives on following dreams, and the roadblocks one might encounter. He believes that ‘brick walls’ are there for a reason – to see if you really want something bad enough.

Later in the trip, we visited Cochin’s contribution to the country’s ever growing mall list – Oberon Mall, to catch a movie at Cinemax – Mammootty’s ‘Best Actor’. The story of a man who while working as a Hindi teacher to fulfill his familial responsibilities, believes that he is destined to be an actor, despite his age and the mocking attitude of several around him. (slight spoiler) In a desperate last ditch attempt, he takes the unintentional advice of a film crew (how Vivek Oberoi landed a role in Company) and becomes part of a street gang to ‘learn’ his role the real way. As is his wont these days, Mammootty excels in a role and the script gives him enough ammunition. Ranjith, playing himself, advises Mammootty’s character, and tells him that if he has decided to become an actor, then actor he will be.

I’m a sucker for cosmic message theories and two random works seemed to be giving me the same message. My problem though, is a step behind. I am yet to find what I really want from life – the one thing that will drive me, the thing I am born to do. Almost everything I do these days is an attempt to crack that question. I am also constantly seeking out Dutch uncles (another term learned from the book) to give me perspectives on brick walls and a kind of laziness I blame myself for.

Funnily, I also received contradictory messages – a random link shared by someone – Osho’s talk on anger and not desiring (so) intensely and later (via Surekha, who now believes that irrespective of destiny, my destination is the Himalayas 😀 ) Chinmayananda’s talk on the journey being the goal.

As always, this Kerala journey too gave me much food for thought. But Randy Pausch’s poignant line reminds me “Time is all you have. And you may find one day that you have less than you think”

until next time, time tableau

February 9, 2011
Andamanned – Part 4 – Prison Diary

Part 1, 2, 3

We wanted to try out a specific restaurant for dinner, but apparently the driver stayed far away and I could sense he wasn’t too happy about having to wait. Anyway, we had more than an hour to kill before dinner, and the driver was at his wit’s end as we knocked down his suggestions one by one. No, we didn’t want to see the light and sound show at the Cellular jail. We actually ended up at Mahatma Gandhi park, for children, and laughed at ourselves and the Patton Tank we found, over a good walk. We then asked the driver to drop us at Marine Park, and go home. He asked us about our dinner plans at that particular restaurant, and we said we’d dropped that.

The Marine park has a wonderful promenade, and allows long walks on pathways that extend into the water. It reminded me of Marine Drive in Cochin. I am fascinated by night lights, especially by the sea shore. Not the dazzling kind, but the ones that make themselves a background, as though each light tells a story. And it was here that Port Blair would offer me the second glimpse of itself (after Corbyn) that I would take away with me. I saw old couples taking their evening walk, younger couples putting the cozy nooks offered to good use, tourists taking pedaled boat rides in the water complex, young executives catching up in small groups, after a long day at work. Like locals everywhere, I wondered if they could ever look at their town the way I looked at it – in a tourist kind of way, though I have read that the economy is supported a lot by tourism. But Port Blair, except for the airport, and the ferry, didn’t seem to go overboard on it. Its a little town, like any other Indian town, made special because of its history, and its unique place away from the mainland. Not a choice it made.

We dined at ‘The New Lighthouse’. This one also offered a spectacular view. The fish this time was awesome, though the rest of the dinner was unremarkable. On the way back, I clicked some things that continue to puzzle me

An uneventful, yet peaceful last night on Andaman.

The next morning, we finally went to Mandalay, the place I’d wanted to dine at. It was only 2 km from our hotel, but it was difficult to get transportation back from there, and that meant the driver had to wait, something which put him off the previous night, but which he was okay with in the morning. Hearty breakfast, including a mushroom omelet made by someone who knows how to do it, and the splendid view the web had promised me. Slightly expensive, but worth a visit. By a sub conscious association, I kept humming the very catchy ‘The Road to Mandalay’.

We quickly proceeded to the Cellular Jail. It opens at 9 and there weren’t many visitors when we reached – 10.00. We took the services of a guide, who did a good job of taking us around the place and explaining things we might have missed otherwise. The art gallery was a good starter, but I was thrilled with the Netaji photo gallery. I went into a click frenzy, and it continued until we left the place. The effects of the cellular jail, in addition to the history lessons, are the automatic sighs and the lumps in the throat as you see the cells, the gallows, the central tower. One can only imagine – from the pictures and other exhibits, the travails of the prisoners. All for the freedom we take for granted now. But still, my heartfelt gratitude. You didn’t have to, and yet you chose to. Thank you.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UftSlljuLu8

The guide told us that at the counter, we hadn’t been given a ticket in spite of asking, which meant that the official could pocket the money. We picked up the luggage from the hotel and quickly left for the airport, only to be told that the flight was delayed by half an hour. The airport was chaotic, with people representing quite a few communities. Bengalis, Punjabis, Tamilians, Gujaratis, Mallus like us. I wondered if it was always like this. Perhaps the limited means of transportation to the islands meant that everyone would have to use the airport, and on days like this, it would be a mini Cellular Jail, for an hour or so, which left everyone free to swear loudly in respective languages at the flight’s delay, to make separate queues in which one was first, to shove each other off queues that were finally formed, to litter the airport and make it a gigantic trash bin. To revel in hard earned freedom.

As I look back, I have much to remember – the lazing around on Vinnie’s beach, the snorkeling trip, the beautiful uninhabited Wilson Island, the aimless walking around in Port Blair, Corbyn’s Cove, and all those thoughts about progress and where the collective will of its humankind would take these islands.

until next time, endaman 🙂

PS: The last vacation, when I described Leh, several people mailed me for an itinerary. I am writing a short recommended one below, in case you’re interested.

Day 0: Reach Chennai from wherever you are (or Calcutta, though check when the flights are)

Day 1: Catch the 10:15 KF flight to Port Blair. You’ll land at about 12.30. KF feeds you, but if you feel hungry, you have time for a quick snack before the ferry at 2.00. The tickets are difficult to get the same day (until they have the promised online system) so you should organise it before. In spite of the small goof up, I’d highly recommend Vinnie’s for stay at Havelock and their Meet and Greet service.

Day 2: Snorkel at Elephant’s beach, Dive (rates at Vinnie‘s site) and off to Radhanagar in the afternoon. Go right till the end to the small lagoon for a good sunset view. Visit Red Snapper, its quite close by. Roads could be dark, get a torch.

Day 3: Wilson Island definitely. Off to Port Blair in the afternoon, preferably by the 12.30 ferry. That’ll give you enough time to catch the Cellular Jail the same evening. (entry allowed till 4 pm) City King Palace is quite a decent place. Fish Dinner at Lighthouse/ Mandalay.

Day 4: Ross Island, and leave by the 12.50 flight.

Resources: Vinnie’s (including Diving rates), Wiki including Citi King Palace, Havelock Wiki

PPS: D has named her Orkut album “Between the devil and the deep blue sea’.

November 13, 2009