The predictability of the biannual trips to Kerala has been on the wane the last couple of years. To the extent that this year we have made only one visit, and it does seem the count will stop there! This year, our more extensive plan, which involved a cousins’ get together, was reasonably wrecked by the announcement of a nationwide bandh on 2nd September. A few of us though, decided to have ourselves a hartal holiday, and thus D and I found ourselves in the world’s first solar powered airport on the first day of September. The pre-arranged cab would take us to Kottayam, with a pit stop to pick up a cousin and his wife.
As we veered off NH 47 on to HMT Road, I realised I hadn’t been on this road in this millennium! NH 47 is apparently called NH 544 now, but I refuse, citing old age as an excuse! HMT stopped ticking earlier this year, I wonder how long the road will be a reminder – probably until local or national pride finds what they deem a worthy recipient. Meanwhile, the only landmark I could remember was at the beginning of the road – Food Craft Institute, which my mother used to visit for baking classes in the 80s. I looked around for the Toshiba Anand factory, remembering the replica of a giant Toshiba battery on a tower that could be seen from afar. Seems I was seeking a world that had been erased more than a decade ago. My last memory of the place was a staff quarters (I can’t be sure if it was KSEB or HMT itself) – we had relatives there and a kid, slightly older than me, had the only clockwork railway I had ever seen. Yes, it was a big deal in the 80s! I glanced around excitedly and then wearily, hoping for a few more tokens of the past, but the place had changed much, I really couldn’t remember anything more, and it was a painful reminder of how fickle, and out of one’s control memory is. After all, to quote Julian Barnes, “memory is what we thought we’d forgotten.“
We reached Kottayam in time for lunch – a bustling place with traffic snarls that put it only a few notches lower than Bangalore. The first view of the Malayala Manorama office was a fitting one – it looked the behemoth it is, with a church well visible in the background – as though everything it could see, and beyond, was in its purview! Lunch was at Thali, at Manorama junction. A crowd quiet different from what I am used to in Cochin – elderly couples for instance, older office goers and all of them, more subtle in their choice of apparel. Fish curry meals with beef and fish fry on the side. I realised how much Bangalore had influenced me when I hesitated asking for beef! But, as my cousin pointed out, this was Kerala, and Kottayam of all places. The waiter asked us if we would like beef! 🙂
Kottayam seemed much smaller than my hometown and we reached our other cousin’s place in less than 10 minutes. This was near Pallikoodam, the school run by Mary Roy, mother of one of my favourite writers – Arundhati Roy. I realised later that long before I knew all of this, I had been here, when it was known as Corpus Christi, for an inter-school festival. I had shifted schools a year before, and the teachers from my previous school were also there. In one of those bouts of intense shyness, I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge them. I know they must have felt bad, and it’s something that is still stuck in memory as a regret.
Meanwhile, night arrived, and with it, so did my cousin, armed with a gigantic can of toddy, among other drinks! But that was for the next day. The plan for the night was mostly Mohanlal – we had tickets for Janatha Garage on the day of its release! This was a dubbed movie, (from Telugu) also starring NTR Jr., part of Mohanlal’s smart strategy of making movies in other South Indian languages, co-starring popular local actors. Absolute masala fare, with a crowd that was totally into it. (Almost) exactly a couple of years ago, we had caught another Mohanlal movie in a theatre in Palakkad on release day – a disaster named Peruchazhi. Thankfully, this one at least entertained. The number of hyperlocal ads during the break was extremely high, and this was in line with my belief that outside of Gulf remittances, it was a large number of small and medium businesses that was powering Kerala’s economy. Having said that, on our way to the theatre, I had seen that many apparel and accessories national brands had outlets here.
In my very short stay there (and judging from Google/4sq tips) I noticed that where Kottayam differs from Kochi is in not having what I’d call a metropolitan sheen – malls, apartments, eateries, and the trappings of a cosmopolitan city in terms of how people behave and consume. Kottayam clearly has old money, but its choice of display seems relatively unchanged, maybe by design. Meanwhile, Porotta – beef to end the day on a very satisfying note!
The next day was a bandh, and in Kerala, that is a very serious matter. People prepare for it the day before by stocking up on alcohol and food. We had. Our original plan was to have a movie marathon, but we had such interesting discussions around Malayalam movies, actors, directors that it was never brought to fruition. It started raining outside and we began the job of finishing the can’s contents. It’s difficult to find words that can describe the feeling of a wonderful rain outside, toddy on the inside and a fascinating conversation with great company. I’d want to retire into this!
We remembered our movie plan by late evening and watched ‘Charlie’ again! Quite a perfect movie for the mood. We also managed to pack in another movie “Happy Wedding” before calling it a night. College romance, and nostalgia!
This was our first trip to Kerala without a stay at Cochin. It was something I missed – walking through roads that are familiar yet new, seeing faces and places that made up my childhood, searching the past to overlay the present, and finding new contexts for old memories. Kottayam did its bit to soften the unhappiness, I found novelty in the place and kindredness in the people. A year from now, these will be fun memories, with a tinge of what I’d call bandh blues.