Sights and Seasons of Paradise : 2. The Backwaters and the Changing Indian Families

 Let me start with a fun question: what is something you’ll find in every nook and corner of Kerala, from glitzy malls to scenic hilltop viewpoints—and no, it’s neither a coconut tree nor a jewellery shop?

If you’ve spent even a few days in Kerala, you’ll know the answer: Gen Z and their unstoppable digital content creation. It’s impossible to miss them—youngsters striking poses for selfies, filming reels and vlogs, crafting Instagram stories, or professional photographers coaxing couples into elaborate (and often hilarious) poses for pre-wedding or post-wedding shoots. Walk through any town or market, and you'll spot numerous wedding photography studios, each with samples of couples contorting into dramatic poses—some bordering on the surreal. (As I write this, I’m vividly reminded of a viral image of a couple draped in flowing white sheets, posing amidst the misty tea gardens of Munnar.)

But beyond the occasional comedy, there’s something genuinely delightful about these photo shoots. As an outsider, I’ve found these reels and snippets to be an unexpected treasure trove. They’ve helped me discover places I would have otherwise missed—hidden streams, little-known hiking trails, and wetlands frequented by migratory birds. It was, in fact, through one such viral pre-wedding shoot during the COVID years that I first stumbled upon the breathtaking sight of pink water lilies—Nymphaea stellata, or ambal as they're called locally—blooming in the serene village of Malarickal.

(PC:https://www.facebook.com/keralaweddingphotographi)

The awe-inspiring photos of deep pink water lilies stretching out for miles, with a boat gliding through them and a shy bride gently playing with the petals, left a lasting impression on me. It was a picture-perfect scene—equal parts romantic and surreal. I remember telling my friend Archana back then, “One day, I’m going to visit that place and click my own photo with those water lilies.”

That long-awaited day finally arrived—in October this year.

When life throws you in muddy water, bloom like a waterlily- Follow the light, rise above the dirt and smile at the world

As anyone who has seen my blog design can tell, water lilies and lotus flowers fascinate me. I think it's a cultural thing—these blooms are deeply embedded in our classical literature, mythology, and art. Their symbolism is everywhere: purity rising from murky waters, beauty untouched by chaos.

During my travels in Southeast Asia, I saw them blooming almost everywhere—from upscale resort ponds to quiet roadside ditches. But, curiously, in North and West India, these flowers are a rare sight—unless you count the few passionate gardeners like me who grow them at home. So when I found myself in this part of the world, I was immediately reminded of the famous fields of Malarickal, known for their breathtaking carpets of pink water lilies (Nymphaea stellata, or ambal in local parlance). Inspired by that memory, I decided to visit Kumarakom in hopes of catching a glimpse.

Much to my disappointment, I was warned that the ambal season had just ended, and there were only a few flowers left. Still, I went ahead—and I’m so glad I did. When I reached the serene backwaters of Kumarakom, I did manage to find some water lilies. While it wasn’t quite the sea of blossoms I had envisioned from the photos, the sight was still enchanting in its own quiet way.

Hopefully, next season, I’ll get lucky enough to witness the full bloom—the endless pink expanse I’ve long imagined.

However, water lilies were just one of the many reasons I was drawn to the enchanting backwaters of Kumarakom. Nestled along the shores of the vast Vembanad Lake, this quiet, rustic town is a serene escape just beyond the bustling market hub of Kottayam—right in the heart of Central Kerala’s lush, affluent belt of rubber plantations.

Kumarakom is a treasure trove of natural beauty and tranquility. It’s home to a renowned bird sanctuary that welcomes both native and migratory species, offering birdwatchers a true paradise. The lake itself is a canvas for stunning sunrises and sunsets—every hour casting a different shade on the waters. Winding through the landscape is an intricate network of backwaters, dotted with small villages and bordered by emerald-green paddy fields. It’s as picturesque and poetic a place as one can imagine—like a postcard that’s come to life.

My visit to Kumarakom reaffirmed my belief that “God’s Own Country” is far more than just a clever tourism slogan. If I were God, I think I’d choose to live in a place as breathtakingly beautiful as this.

It’s fascinating how each of us imagines paradise, and what elements we instinctively include in that mental picture. For me—even as a child—paradise has always meant lush greenery, glistening waterbodies, birdsong in the air, and flowers blooming freely. Kumarakom offered all of that, and more.

There were rain-soaked evenings that painted everything in deep emerald hues, and soft golden mornings where the light tiptoed shyly through the mist. Gentle daytime drizzles gave me the perfect excuse to slow down and simply take it all in—watching the vast landscape of Vembanad Lake come alive. Bee-eaters and kingfishers darted playfully over the water, their colors flashing like jewels. To my delight, I even spotted two Black-hooded Orioles chasing each other through the branches, their bright yellow bodies slicing through the grey drizzle like sunbeams in flight.

My stay in Kumarakom turned out to be enlightening for an unexpected reason—it confirmed something I’ve long believed: Indian families are changing, in subtle but powerful ways.

Traditionally, holidaying in India has meant either nuclear families—married couples with children—or large extended families with parents, uncles, aunts, and cousins in tow. So I was pleasantly surprised to find that my resort offered a special package exclusively for solo female travellers. It intrigued me—not just that such a category exists, but that it has grown big enough for commercial hospitality chains to take notice and tailor offerings specifically for them.

But the real surprise came at breakfast. In the resort’s dining room, I struck up a conversation with a graceful lady in her sixties, who was travelling with an old friend. The two had worked together for over three decades and had known each other for forty years. Now retired and settled in different cities, they had chosen to travel—not with their husbands, children, or families—but just with each other. It was just the two of them, laughing and chatting their way through peaceful days.

Seeing my curiosity, the lady smiled knowingly and said, “We tried meeting at each other’s homes, but you know how it is. At home, a woman is never truly free. There’s always some duty waiting. The grandkids are visiting, or the husband needs something. So I told my family—this time, I’m going on vacation with my friend, away from all the lists of chores.”

Her words struck a chord—and, to be honest, made me feel a little ashamed. How often do we, in our families, fail to give this kind of space to the elderly women in our lives? We expect them to remain in the background, always available with a hot snack or a comforting word. Even those of us who consider ourselves progressive rarely think about our mothers’ or grandmothers’ me-time. We talk of equality but often overlook how invisible we allow their personal joys to become. There is still a long way to go in how we view the lives—and the emotional freedoms—of older women in our families.

There were other interesting guests at the resort as well: a group of male friends from Bengal planning a hike, two families with kids on a joint vacation, and a father-daughter duo who caught my attention in particular. The daughter had secured admission to a university abroad and was due to leave in two months. Her father had taken time off from work for a road trip—just the two of them.

“She may decide not to come back once she’s there,” he told me. “I just wanted us to share some conversations and make a few memories—something that’s hard to do at home in the middle of daily chaos.”

That small gesture was deeply heartwarming. It reminded me of how much things have changed. The image of the distant, emotionally unavailable father—seen only when providing money or delivering the occasional scolding—is gradually fading. Today, many fathers are emotionally invested, nurturing, and active participants in their children’s lives. My own father was ahead of his time in that regard, but I find every such small act from the newer generation of fathers—including many in my own office—deeply reassuring.

It’s no coincidence that such modern expressions of relationships and family bonds are finding space in a place like Kerala. Despite its own challenges—alcoholism, gendered violence, and crime—Kerala remains one of the safest and most socially progressive states in India. A solo female traveler or a young couple posing for a photoshoot in public are far less likely to attract unwanted attention here than in many other parts of the country.

Of course, this isn’t the whole truth. For every expression of progress, there are still ten examples that reinforce old stereotypes. But that’s the thing about revolutions—especially the quiet ones within families—they unfold one small, defiant step at a time.

Another quiet revolution is also brewing here—in the stories Kerala chooses to tell through its cinema. Many new films are boldly exploring themes of changing family dynamics, gender roles, and personal identity. But that’s a story for another post.

Garden Diaries: February (It’s springtime)

"Was it the smile of early spring

That made my bosom glow?
'Twas sweet, but neither sun nor wind
Could raise my spirit so.

Was it some feeling of delight,
All vague and undefined?
No, 'twas a rapture deep and strong,
Expanding in the mind!"

-  Anne Bronte, In Memory of a Happy Day in February

Spring has officially arrived in my garden. Flowerbeds are bursting with colours, birds are chirping, sunshine is bright and golden and the breeze is fresh and welcoming. I can spend all my waking hours in my garden and not get tired. There are so many kinds of flowers around that I often lose count of them.It has always been an issue with me whether to plant a single flower in a bed or have a mix of 3-4 kinds of flowers. This year I have gone for mixing...mostly . The result is not too bad. Well, there is only a finite number of plants one can have in a garden and however big is the garden - it is always a dilemma to choose the best place for each variety . I am sure I have about 20 kinds of flowers blooming right now in the garden. 

 So let me try to list them – Impatiens, Salvia, Petunia,Begonia,English daisies, Buttercups, Primroses, Mimulus , Kalanchoes, Gazania, Dahlias Pentas , Nasturtiums, Geraniums, Verbena, Pansy, Dianthus, Larkspur, Cosmos, Marigold, Calendula and  Roses . Next in line are Cineraria and Sweet peas.

Pretty buttercups

But the thing with gardening is that there is always so much to do. Chrysanthemums are almost over and need to be saved for next year. There is always need to cut worn out blooms and clean the flowerbeds. With dozens of squirrels around (who love to eat my French marigolds), there is always so much action in the garden. They chase the birds and cut out all leaves and wires.

Sitting in my garden during weekends, I cannot help feeling grateful. It is such a marvel that nature expresses itself in so many colours and patterns. Just to give an example of Larkspurs, the tall and graceful flowers – they stand out because of their blue-purple colour and their graceful waving in the wind. Then there is verbena, tiny small groups of flowers, they come in all possible colours and can melt even the most stoic hearts. Not only flowers, the variety of birds I see daily in my garden is pretty amazing too.

Some birds sighted in Bharatpur

Talking of birds, in late last month I went to Kaleodeo Birds Sanctuary at Bharatpur. I will be honest; I had never seen so many birds at one places ever before. Gosh! What variety of birds it was! From tiny Siberian blue throat to huge painted storks, from owls to vultures, from kingfishers to greater pelicans   - it was an actual carnival of birds.  Even the place where we stayed (Bagh Resort) was full of ducks, peacocks and all kinds of birds.

 Every spring

I hear the thrush singing

in the glowing woods

he is only passing through.

His voice is deep,

then he lifts it until it seems

to fall from the sky.

I am thrilled.

I am grateful.

― Mary Oliver

Back home, our spotted owlets’ family continue to sunbath in the mornings, two young peacocks knock the glass doors very often in afternoons and groups of jungle babblers, magpie robins and brahminy starlings hop around the garden. As for noise, no one can beat the parakeets who make it their business to make their presence felt.  A pair of koels are nesting in a neem tree in my house and I often spot grey hornbills on the same tree as well.

By the way, the honeybees deserted the other beehive also soon after I wrote my last post. While I see plenty of honeybees collecting honey from cosmos and marigolds, I have no idea where their new hive is located. I would like to have more butterflies around and I do hope they will get lured by the flowers.

  Amidst all this, like an anxious gardener I am dealing with the dilemma of whether I should start planning for Zinnias, sunflowers and Mexican cosmos right now or wait for few more days. Learning from my experience at the beginning of winter, I think I will wait for some more time. Though it is true that spring won't last very long and even before we know, the days will start burning and the summer will arrive .  I have always felt grateful that I live in a country where each season is so beautiful and the change of seasons is full of so much anticipation and excitement . It is inevitable that the seasons will change and the flowers will wither , but as for now, let me soak in the beauty of  my February flowers.

Larkspurs 

                                           “We need beauty because it makes us ache to be worthy of it.”

                                                                                 ― Mary Oliver

Castles and Cold Waves of Copenhagen

If Copenhagen were a person, that person would be generous, beautiful, elderly, but with a flair. A human being that has certain propensities for quarreling, filled with imagination and with appetite for the new and with respect for the old - somebody who takes good care of things and of people.

Connie Nielsen

It appears that Ms. Nielsen was describing my Danish landlady when she said these words. At the age of 82, Eva was standing outside her Osterbro home, wearing a warm smile on that chilly morning. She was braving the cold wind to welcome me to Copenhagen on the Monday after Easter. One look at her and I felt at home. If you go from one of the most populous countries of the world to Scandinavia, you marvel about many things. To begin with, octogenarian landladies who wear red lipstick and ride bicycle, live alone, plant flowers, bake cakes and are perhaps fitter than you. The warmth, pride in Danish culture   coupled with eccentricity runs in all streams of Danish life. It reflects in their majestic castles, their cuisine and also in their quirky designs. But at some level the life is much evolved. Luckily, I got to decipher this Danish puzzle in the best season of the year – spring.

Talking of weather, April was supposed to be warm and welcoming. Then why  there  was this skin piercing cold wind which not only moved the gorgeous windmills in the sea but also quaked my bones covered with multiple layers of clothing. The trees on the road were bereft on any leaves and the green grass below was only half awake after the harsh winter. There were hardly any flowers in sight – even in the famous King’s Garden. To my Indian mind, this was no spring.

For me the first look of the city was of a deserted town. There were absolutely no signs of humans on street. First I blamed it on winds, then on extended Easter holidays. Finally on the third day,  the realization dawned that perhaps there are not many people in the city. Well, this was true till the weekend came. As Helen Derbyl writes in her guide on Denmark that the population is scant unless the weather is very sunny or the Swedes very thirsty. So it was only on the first weekend that we saw people and cycles – people on cycles and people walking on the streets…mostly to the beer  bars .

 It’s a strange capital city- a place where pedestrian set the pace not the automobile traffic. It was rather common to find in Copenhagen mothers safely parking baby carriages (or the famous Christiania bikes with a cart to carry stuff/ babies in front) outside bakeries while outdoor cafés fill with cappuccino-sippers, and super fit lanky Danes pedal to work in lanes thick with bicycle traffic.

In my 11 minute walk to workplace in Mormovej every morning , it was a sheer delight to face the crisp morning air punctuated by golden sunshine in the pedestrian streets redolent of baked bread, baskets of organic strawberries  and soap-scrubbed storefronts. If there's such a thing as a heartwarming city sight, this was it!

No wonder that when today’s glittering world metros with their high-rises and  traffic troubles , seek enlightenment, they commonly look to Copenhagen. The Danish capital regularly tops world liveability lists. This is one of the globe's greenest, cleanest, most sustainable urban centres, a place where cycling is serious transport, where buses and the metro run frequently and around the clock, and where the harbor is squeaky clean enough for a bracing dip.

But Copenhagen has always been far more complex than Denmark’s “happy nation” reputation. It had other layers to show as well- in all shades of greys , much like the designer coats I admired people wearing there  .   The gorgeous old town with splendid historic buildings stands near areas that have only recently seen a renaissance after years of gang violence, prostitution and ethnic tensions. The in-famous Freetown Christiania was just a walk away from the city centre with its cannabis selling Pusher Street. In my tour of “alternative”-Copenhagen, I saw some of these areas and was amused to find the unique “solutions” devised by the policymakers to deal with these. To quote one, the state funded designer drug consumption rooms providing a safe haven for drug addicts to inject themselves in calm surroundings may sound weird to many of us. But as the experiment shows, it has proved to be an effective method of bringing down the drug menace and making the neighborhood safe for kids.

For me the more attractive were the places associated with city’s history of witch hunts, executions, mobsters and murderers. With such morbid details of history, it is funny that the city is also reputed to be the fairy tale city. When I set out to explore the Fairy tale side of the city, I went in search of Hans Christian Anderson’s Little Mermaid and almost accidentally discovered magic of Danish weather. In the Langelinie Park, the trees which were standing bare just the other day were almost bursting into pink Cherry Blossoms. With a cute little English Church in the backdrop, combined with the imposing Gefion fountain depicting the Norse goddess Gefjun, the cherry blossoms were on a bloom leaving no doubt that the spring had finally arrived.  It, however took me another weekend to realize that there can be an even better place to admire cherry and almond blossoms – Bispebjerg Cemetery. The explosion of a pink and white flower sky was mesmerizing in sprawling space of Bispebjerg Cemetery.

While the little Mermaid surrounded by selfie clicking tourists did not impress me much- it opened my mind to the idea of discovering fairytales at oddest possible places. And then I found them – underwater bronze statues of the family of Agnete and Merman, twisted dragon tales on the old Stock Exchange (Borsen), the spiral stairs to (almost) heaven on the baroque Church of Our Saviour , snow leopards and wolves adorning the town hall building …and of course , Holger the Dane who sits asleep in the casemates of Kronborg Castle - until the day when Denmark is in real trouble and he will wake up and defend the mother country.

After a month of stay, I came to the conclusion that despite all jokes about their language and behavior, Danes definitely have their lives sorted like none of us. They do appreciate what really matters – clean air, green grass, blue waters of the sea….and perhaps a good drink to go with it. They live simple lives enjoying and not destroying nature. They peddle their cycles with great joy – without any pretensions and consciousness of wealth or class . 

In the words of  Xenophobe’s Guide to the Danes –

“For the Danes, culture is a way of shedding the modern world and retracing their roots. All Danes are inveterate nature lovers. They cultivate an almost masochistic feeling of insignificance coupled with awe at nature’s power and the forces of life. Danish literature is full of examples of characters trying to come to terms with man’s essential loneliness and unimportance.”

If you ask me that is the way to go.

Being girlish and loving it...

This Saturday I read an interesting article in The Telegraph titled “ What’s Girlie Still” .In the age of unisex salons and a metrosexual man , this article was talking about few things which still remain stubbornly girlish...pink drinks,giggling and the like . Though a proud owner of a Pink Blog…I must confess that all things girlie are seemingly under serious threat in today’s world. Crying, giggling blushing, fainting and cribbing does not come very naturally to most of us anymore. However much we wow at Audrey Hepburn and Scarlet O’Hara, Madhubala and Saira Banos in our weekend matinees ,we no longer want to look like them. It’s the age of powerpuff girls. So from the celluloid divas to the girls next doors, no one cares for looking/sounding girlish anymore. There was a time when my elder sister had to face several critical glances and raised eyebrows for wearing jeans and flaunting boy cut hairstyle all the time . Then women like her were called tomboyish. And now everyday I watch more and more twenty somethings walking carelessly in blue jeans and white shirts , talking in very matter of fact tone , comfortable in talking about all topics from stock market to dirty jokes , sitting casually in roadside joints and looking more and more similar to boys of similar age. So Sania mirza was just representing her generation of girls when her T shirt declared that “Well behaved women seldom make history”. What is even more interesting is that the whole world is getting so used to this idea that no one is missing the coy , girlish damsels . So much so we find more and more moms and aunts are also equally comfortable in similar attire and attitude.

Being part of this generation W, I take pride in their attitude and style .I admire them for their ability to exist and succeed even in typically very male domain of things .But hold a sec, look carefully and you’ll find the same girls equally at ease while flaunting strawberry pink chiffon and chandelier earrings. Jane Austen is still a favorite with most of us and so are all things pink. We still give a second glance to the dress every other lady is wearing in the room and yes, shopping is a great amusement for us. Some of us may be hopping from one relationship to other with equal ease like the males of our species , we still expect our men to be courteous and caring . Though many of choose to be curt and formal at workplace , we can be very charming and witty when we want to be so. So should we conclude that men are still from mars and women form venus .
Nay…I guess it is much more than that kind of simple logic .My conclusion is that women in last few decades have evolved much more than men .They now excel in many new areas of life and are still capable of being very feminine..very true to their stereotypical role in the society. Though many find true expression of themselves in not being so woman-like all the time . In a nutshell, we have gathered more good traits from men than they have learnt from us. Their changes are still very cosmetic.... Well, to be fair on the other sex I must confess that they are also trying the things typically marked 'women-only'. O yes, many men are now very comfortable in household chores and some even watch those teary soap-operas , husbands are not what they used to be and a good percentage of men do try to appear metrosexual.Even market has acknowledge this change. The ‘Because You’re Worth It Too’ anti-wrinkle campaign by L’Oreal is a fantastic example. It shows a man in his thirties, the camera zooms in on his face and the voice over says: ‘What you think are great lines, she thinks is premature aging!’ Whack ! There goes your self-image. You’re not aging well. You’re no Sean Connery or George Clooney. You’re ugly or at least on your way there. But not to fear, once your self-esteem is destroyed, you can buy the new Men’s Expert by L’Oreal Paris line of products to rebuild it...so while your fairness cream for men will do wonders the antiwrinkle cream will make you a decade younger . Hello brother...welcome to the she-domain of things .

But despite all these, I still agree with what I read on a coffee mug in a gift shop—“Behind every successful woman there is a very surprised man” . Stereotypes are breaking- very slowly but every clearly. Men also gossip. they also shop …they also dress up and some of the daring ones even have pink pyjamas . But all said and done, most of them are finding it a hard task to deal with the powerpuff girls of today. The old mantras of red roses and teddy bear may not work for many of them ..... And Nike shoes and T shirts still sound strange for valentine gifts.

So is the time ripe for writing obituaries for all things girlish . Well, I for one, am very optimistic about how things are going and as its my dream to own a lovely pink car very soon , I will also expect my male friends and colleagues ( even my husband) to see me driving my car and say “ Sooooo cute” .