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

 Let me start with a fun question- What is found commonly on every nook and corner of Kerala, every mall and every scenic ‘view-point’ and is neither a coconut tree nor a jewellery shop?

 Well, if you have lived few days in Kerala, you cannot miss the Gen Z and their digital content creation.  At every public (and not so public) place you have a youngster posing for a selfie, making a reel,vlog or insta-story or a professional photographer making young couples do weird poses for pre or post wedding shoots. Numerous shops of wedding photographers are found in every market and there are any number of viral posts of couples in most impossible poses doing round (As I write this an image of young couple wearing white sheets posing in Munnar tea Gardens strikes to my mind). But not everything about these photo-shoots is funny. To an outsider like me, the reels of most unknown places are a good way to get to know of hidden treasures of the state and I am thankful to these good Samaritans for telling me about the unknown water-streams, hiking routes and a wetland attracting migratory birds. It was in one of such viral pre-wedding shoots , during covid years, that  I first time saw the pink waterlilies ((Nymphaea Stellata or ambal in local parlance) of Malarickal. 

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

The awe-inspiring photos of dark pink waterlilies for miles and a boat with the young bride coyly playing with them, was quite a pretty sight. I told my friend Archana back then that I will visit the place one day to click picture of  waterlilies. The day finally came 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 my blog design shows,waterlilies and lotus flowers fascinate me. I think it is a cultural thing.  Our classical literature and arts are full of them. While visiting southeast Asia, I saw these flowers everywhere from posh resorts to deserted waysides. But surprisingly, in north and west India, you do not much of these flowers  unless some crazy gardeners like me grow them in their gardens. So when actually landed up in this part of the world, I remembered the fields of Malarickal with breathtaking shades of pink water lilies (Nymphaea Stellata or ambal in local parlance) and decided to visit Kumarakom to see waterlilies. Much to my disappointment, I was warned that ambal season was just over and there were just few waterlilies left. But when I reached the serene backwaters of Kumarakom, I did actually manage to see some waterlilies – nothing like the pictures,but still very pretty. I do hope next season I will get lucky to witness the sea of flowers as I imagined.

However, waterlilies were just one of the reasons to visit the enchanting backwaters of Kumarakom. On the shores of Vembanad Lake, this quiet, rustic town of Kumarakom is a haven just outside the humming market town of Kottayam, deep in Central Kerala’s wealthy and lush belt of rubber plantations.A bird sanctuary for native and migratory birds, a lake giving heavenly view of sunsets and sunrises, an intricate web of backwaters, small villages lined with paddy fields – the place is as picturesque as it can be.

 The place confirmed my belief that “God’s own Country” is not just a tourism slogan. If I was God, I would have liked living in a place as pretty as this was. It is interesting how most of us imagine paradise and what traits we put in that imagination. My imagination, even as a child, always had lush green landscape with waterbodies and birds and flowers. All these elements and much more greeted me in Kumarakom. There were rain-soaked evenings and shy golden mornings, the drizzling during the day gave me a lot of time to treat my senses with the landscape of Vembanad lake with beaeaters and kingfishers doing their rounds. I even get to spot two Black-hooded Orioles chasing each other. 

Stay at Kumarakom was quite enlightening for an unusual reason. It confirmed my belief in changing Indian families.  A typical holidaying group in India, is either  married couples with children or families- parents, uncles-aunts and cousins. I was pleasantly surprised  to find a place which was offering a package exclusively for ‘solo female travellers’. It was interesting to even know that this category of tourists exists and is big enough for  a commercial outfits to notice and cater to. But there was more in store for me .In the dining room of my resort I got into conversation with a graceful lady. In her sixties she  was staying with a friend of hers. The two ladies worked together for 3 decades , knew each other for now 40 years and were settled in different cities post-retirement. They were travelling without any husbands, kids or families. Just the two of them- chatting away most of the days  happily. The lady smiled at my astonishment and said that they tried meeting in each others’ houses but as it happens for women- household duties never let them have free mental space to enjoy. Sometimes grandkids are coming or husbands want  their attention . “So I told my family” she said,” Now I am going on for vacation with my friend, away from this daily list of chores”.  Her story made me felt bit ashamed, how many times in our families, we fail to give this space to our elderly women. They are suppose to be in the background always ready to be useful to us with a hot snack or a comforting word. Even the most woke of us do not bother for the me-time of our moms and grandmoms and somehow view their lives only for “duties” for others. Perhaps much change is still needed in the way , we look at lives and joys of our elderly , specially women. 

There were other guests too in the resort. There was a group of friends from Bengal  – all male, planning a hike somewhere, two families of friends travelling with kids  and a father daughter duo. The last one was again an interesting pair. The daughter had got into a university abroad and was due to join there in two months. Father took leave from work to have a road trip with her alone. “She may decide not to come back once she is there” the father said, “I would like both of us to have some memories and some conversations which are often not possible at home.” I found this very heartening that those days of distant fathers only meant for providing money and occasional scolding, are becoming a thing of the past. Fathers today are much more invested in upbringing of kids. While my own father was way ahead of his generation in this regard, I find every such small gesture from young fathers, even in my office, very heartwarming.

It is not just a coincidence that all such modern expressions of relationships and families find expression in this land. Kerala is very safe  and despite its own struggles of alcoholism and even crimes, a solo female traveller or a young couple posing for photoshoot are less likely to get unwanted attention than elsewhere in the country.

I am aware that this is not whole truth and for every expression of liberal relationships within family there are ten re-emphasising the stereotype. But then, that’s the thing about revolution within families- it happens one tiny step at a time.

A revolution is also brewing in Kerala about themes and portrayal of cinema stories. Many of these revolving around stories of changing dynamics of families and issues of gender. But more on that in a separate post.

Sights and Seasons of Paradise: The Beginning

 Sometimes you have to let go of the picture that you have thought it would be like and learn to find joy in the story you are actually living.

-        Rachel Marie Martin       

Life, as John Lennon said, is what happens to you when you are busy making other plans. My plans got unsettled in a very poetic way this year. I was gazing at Cleopatra’s pool at Pamukkale, Turkiye on 12th September and the alignment of stars changed somewhere for me.

Cut to scene two. It was mid-October, and I was in “God’s own country”. Thousands of miles away in a part of the country where I have not been for last twenty years and language and ways of which I was blissfully ignorant of. Well, the common wisdom says that mortals have no control on the invitation from Gods. It is supposed to be sudden and so it was. But again, can a mere mortal resist the invite- I could not and so here I was- in the city of Padmanabh Swami. A city which has seen an amazing milieu of history. A city where at different points of time – artists, traders and intellectuals took refuge and got settled. Also a city, where you come and leave only with the divine will.

It did not take me long to get lured by the sights spread out before me. The colourful floral tributes outside temples for Navratri puja, tall trees of jackfruit, coconut and more, the heritage buildings with their wooden roof and ex-royal emblem – they were all very inviting and I gaped like a tourist. It rained every now and then and the weather was warm. The entire scene was so unlike north that on some nights I got up just pining for the familiar sounds, tastes and sights.

My welcome was amazing and the gestures for help- a plenty. Yet it took me time to push back the fear of unknown from my mind. Once in routine, my mind wandered on what I would like to fill my days with. Luckily, it was just then the state festival started. Criticized by some and attended by all, it was a crash course of state culture and mindset for me. I was floored with the variety of events and exhibitions, discussions, and debates. But first impressions barely give you the full picture. The depth of the issue often hits you much later. My introduction to Kathakali masks, for example, came in the most unusual way.

Building of Fine Arts College, Trivandrum

It was just an art exhibition at the Fine Arts College. I went there just for curiosity and to admire the college building. I saw some strange exhibits (as usual) and some good ones. But what I found most creative was a re-creation of Da Vinci’s The Last Supper, with Kathakali artists. 

I marveled at the art and creativity of the photographer (Vivek Vilasini), took and shared pictures of it with friends. It was only the day after, when a learned acquaintance pointed this out that I realized what these masks actually represented! The photograph was not only creative, but it was also provocative as Jesus and his apostles were wearing masks meant for negative characters. It was an interesting first introduction to city’s love for breaching the line of social sensibilities and rules in all aspects of life. Well, I guess, that is how they are a city of thinking people. Where classical arts and radical Marxism thrive side by side. Where, as a colleague pointed out to me – even Christian and Muslim communities have a Vidyarambha ceremony and the child is supposed to write” Om shree ganapataye namah”, where all communities happily enjoy dishes made out of beef (while rest of the country can’t dream of that) and where Virgin Mary in some village churches merrily dons traditional Kerala cream saree with golden border.

Arattu Procession on the Runway

But then, I should not be surprised about the contradictions and incredibility of things in this state. Certainly not after I came to know of Arattu procession, which happened just days after my coming here. The day when international airport suspended services to give way to a temple procession. Well, I have seen enough number of Mazars and temples inside public institutions, but this was a first for an international airport. As it turned out, twice every year, the beloved deities of Padmanabha temple of Trivandrum, take their ritual bath or Arattu . The idols are taken from temple to the Shangumugham beach for this purpose, following an ancient path. This is going on for last few centuries as per record. Now in 1932, when the airport was to be constructed and the runway design fell on the traditional route of this procession. The land belonged to the temple through the Royal Family of Travancore. Temple happily gave the land ( you see, Indian Gods are never in the way of progress and modern ways) but the condition was -  twice every year, planes will halt to give way to the Gods. Even now this continues. This, for me was very symbolic of the soul of this city and this land of Gods. Always open to progress and new ways and yet deeply rooted in the traditions of history.

So that is how it began, I in the divine land. Much like the fabled ships of King Solomon landed in a port called Ophir (now Poovar) in Thiruvananthapuram in 1036 BCE, my ship has landed here. The thought of chronicling the experience came couple of days back while enjoying a golden sunrise surrounded by lush green tea gardens of Munnar- but more on that in a separate post. Hopefully I will try to capture the sights and seasons of this amazing place regularly for a year.