Blues in the greens (1) - A soul ride through god's own country.

The girl with the most itchy feet Vaidu, once mentioned there is a certain difference between touring and travelling. When you plan a tour, the commute, the stay, the activities and the meals are all orchestrated and executed. While when you travel to a place, you just pack your bags and go to the core lure to know the soul of the place, the way people live, the way it existed since eons. Honestly! I prefer comfortable touring over the adventurous travelling but I did try my best to read the soul of God’s own country. Let me give you a virtual ride through the streets of Kerala.

Kochi:

The climate is humid as we landed in the heart of Kochi, a city bustling with activity unlike the rest of Kerala. We met our cabbie, Basheer a 60+ man who has kind eyes and a warm smile. Without wasting time we had our lunch at a road side eatery before we took off to the hill station Munnar, a 3 hour drive, some 120 kms away. I was told that it is a ghat road and I held on to my medication dearly. I don’t enjoy Ghat road drives. I throw up or I may land in one of those spells of vertigo. So, I braced myself for the worst.

Munnar:

Roads:

As we snaked through the labyrinth of roads of this hill station, I realized how wrong I was! This is like no other ghat road. It did not have those hair pin bends that wrench your guts. Even if it had, they are barely noticeable in the overwhelming picturesque landscapes. The ghat road is least intimidating with a fence of palm trees planted by god with his own hands across the valleys. Pepper park, cardamom country, cinnamonin bars, Elachi gardens, Misty mountains, Spice valley, Silver oaks, Tea and you, Every now and then hoardings entice you claiming they are the best. “Sharukh and Deepika stayed over at silver oaks for a quarter month while shooting for Chennai express” boasts our driver.

Weather:

SEPTEMBER, the month of onam. The predictions call for no-sun screens, No hats and coats, No umbrellas. Yet it rained cats and dogs throughout our stay. We are not those kinds who frown at the mud soiling our shoes. Instead we are among those who would love to dance in the rain. Clouds passed right under our feet giving us the ON-TOP-OF-THE-WORLD experience. 

Rain lashes at us when we take a turn on those serpentine roadways, only to vanish by the next. The breeze is so soul soothing that it feels as if a woman you dearly love is caressing your hair with her arachnoid fingers. It’s truly a day out of my book of fairy tales.

Trees:

When I said palm trees, I did not mean those petit 12 foot ones but these are thrice as much taller. The tree trunks aren’t nude unlike their sibling all over the country. They are either covered with moss and ferns or entwined with the creepers of pepper and vanilla. Bamboo shoots greet you every now and then.

We detoured through a spice garden. It felt as if I were walking through the pages of a botany text book. I got to breathe in the aroma of fresh spices and condiments (cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, pepper, Hinge, Vaamu, turmeric) as our guide explained me about them in great detail. I witnessed coffee beans sprout and jack fruits ripe right in front of my eyes. 

I got to see ayurvedic saplings like insulin and Sanjeevini. Yes! The very sanjeevini which Lord Hanuman bestowed upon an unconscious Laxmana. My jaw dropped to the floor when I learnt that the plant glows with a red hue at nights but I was not lucky enough to witness it in the broad day lights.

Housing:

I loved the houses of Munnar. They are built on the very pillars of keralan architecture. Each house precisely speaks out its age. One has to walk up a ramp or take stairs to reach each of those road side dwellings. None of them had picket white fences. All of them had green carpets of moss, cushioning the stairs, welcoming the guests. The railings are rusted. The houses are either too eye catchy or silently merge away in those misty mountains. The walls are either painted with ‘jatang yellows and fluorescent pinks’ or build with rock cubes without a white wash. The stone manors stand boldly, their heads held high, against the constant rain lashings. The roofs are slanting and covered with red tiles, again an arrangement to beat the rainy weather.

Onam:

I noticed each house welcomed their guests with an artistically decorated floral spread called as “Kolam”. Being an art enthusiast, I asked our driver about the kolam of flowers and the festival of onam. Dusting his memory he recited us the tale that dates back to vamanavtaar. Bali was a great emperor who treated his folks with great generosity. He refused to rule Paatala loka, the underworld, where Asuras dwelled in chaos. When lord Vishnu approached Bali chakravarthy in the disguise of a petit bramhin boy, he was granted three steps by the mighty king. In the first step he occupied earth. In the second he occupied the skies.

“Raja! Where shall I place my third step?” the boy who is an incarceration of lord Vishnu questioned the king.

“Place it on my head o lord Vishnu” Bali replied. And thus he was grounded to paatala loka where he brought order and discipline among the Asura kinship. Once in a year, that is on the festive day of Onam, Bali is welcomed back to earth and treated with delicacies like pala payasam for the sacrifice he did. Women decorate their houses with kolams and sing and dance around it welcoming their king to emerge out from the worlds below.