Kerala

Another 'Just Back' entry (500 words on Kerala)

KERALA – not just the God of small things.

Plates of pomfret and melt-in-the-mouth butterfish steamed in banana skins are sitting in front of us at the Fort Cochin seafood restaurant.  Our friend Hari Menon is giving us some advice.  ‘If you want to see the Nilgiri Tahr, one of the world’s rarest ibexes, you’re going to the right area – the Western Ghats.’  He smiles.  ‘It has an interesting personality.  It’s curious about humans.  So you will definitely see one!’  High up in the hills, where the tea plantations were planted by Scots in landscape that must have reminded them of home, we march past a horde of brightly sari-clad girls chattering and giggling to one another on their day trip to Eravikulam National Park.  ‘Thank heavens we’ve got past them,’ I observe.  ‘Now we can concentrate on finding this goat.’  At that moment the animal in question steps from behind a bush in front of me and unconcernedly clip-clops down the small tarmac road back past the delighted girls who scatter in a flurry of pink, blue and gold on either side of the Tahr as it meanders on down the hill.  One up to Hari.  Kerala is full of surprises.  The first is the gun pointed at my face at the airport in Cochin.  It’s a temperature gun.  They want to know if we have ‘flu.  Despite the 30 degree ambient heat we are allowed in.  The drive into the city is full of typical Indian colour.  Ubiquitous coconut trees, heavily laden scooters, huge potholes in the roads, giant Bollywood movie posters featuring warlike paunchy men with swords.  Cacophony all around.  Our hotel looks out on the harbour, but the water seems to be entirely green.  Masses of thick vegetation drift down from the backwaters, creating a permanent floating platform for hundreds of egrets.  Our next stop is the Kathakali dance centre.  This is a standard tourist attraction, but fascinating nonetheless.  The first hour or so involves watching the actors put on makeup.  It’s not as dull as it sounds.  Unless you know the 9 different moods to be portrayed and the 24 hand gestures you might lose some of the thread.  Outside historic Cochin, which has been Portuguese, Dutch, then British, the state of Kerala, only 9 degrees of latitude north of the equator, is lush and green.  Pineapples, bananas, rice, tapioca, and rubber trees grow easily.  In the hills, the tea plantations spread up and down in a beautiful neat green garden, following the contours like a serrated carpet.  In the jungles of Periyar we battle leeches, after signing a disclaimer which says we ‘must be able to make a walk of tedious duration.’  In the backwaters we luxuriate as our ancient converted rice boat chunters slowly along, past calm vistas of Keralans’ everyday lives.  As dusk falls, enormous dark sheets glide past us – the fruit bats off to the treetops for their evening meal.  Our Kerala experience ends with a red-gold sunset on a beach which stretches as far as the eye can see.

Word Count:  500 words