Categories
non-fiction Travel

India Chronicles: #7 – The Final Chapter – Kumarakom, Kerala

Complete life experience is social, spiritual, and moral. India checked all those boxes. We were rewarded with moral questions on equality of genders, compelled to look inward under the vast, free sky and endless creations of God – Earth. We met our families, and I wanted my children to remember the best about their roots, not the worst.

Our trip was hectic. We got the relaxation fix in Kumarakom. Hands down.

The strike was upon us. What I saw the next day was a first – closed shops, hardly anyone on the roads. In the car with all our bags and baggage, we stared out from our seats at the ghost town and if we saw a person, we wondered which side of the spectrum they were on—were they ensuring people were respecting the strike, or one of us, irritated that the strike was for inequality.

One of the hardest life lessons is to realize merit in adversity, that all wrong things happen for the right reasons and are a blessing in disguise. We reached our destination on the empty road where only the wind sang a melody, the mountains stood tall. Parking under the highest peak of the state, Anamudi, we were at the Eravikulam National Park, the busiest destination of the region with hardly any people. Blessing? We climbed atop an empty bus to take us up, up, and up the mountain. Here are photos from the national park.

The best restaurant we ate at Munnar was called Ali Baba and the 41 Dishes. Best dish? Butter Chicken which is spicy and textured unlike any creamy and sweet butter chicken served in American Indian restaurant.

After lunch, we left for Kumarakom. Empty roads. Before going too far from Munnar, we checked off the most recently added bucket list, of walking into one of the tea plantations.

As everyone slept, my eyes glued on the empty roads. I had read the news of violence in towns on our way. Every now and then, a shop would be open. Revolt (of the strike) was in the air. People did not want the strike. They wanted to live their life on their own terms, not fussing over some temple and its attendees.

Good two and a half hours away, when my littlest couldn’t hold it anymore, we reached a town with a restaurant in business. It had clean bathrooms, ginger tea for my recovering throat, and treats for everybody. So, the strike cleared the traffic, cut our commute time, and a shop was open when needed. We reached Kumarakom under the round, orange, setting sun with canals of waters and lush green grass. Lake Song resort welcomed us in style by putting a tilak on each of our foreheads under tens of candles.

Next day, only one item was on the agenda – relaxation.

What I mistook for ocean also known as backwaters of Kerala, was the largest lake in India, the Vembanad Lake. We rented a houseboat with two bedrooms and western toilets and an open living room for the day where the breeze of the lake frisked our hair as the boat traversed the lake, we bought fresh fish, and it was cooked to serve. The floating plant with purple flowers and the seagulls and the ducks glided alongside us. We sat there and did absolutely nothing. After lunch, we read, children did their homework, drawing and journaling Taj Mahal.

Docking the boat back on land to reality, my husband and I treated ourselves to an Ayurveda spa. I ordered the only thing on the menu that did not require me lying down in flat position because of my cough and got the head and neck massage.

Back at the hotel, we sailed the sunset Shikara tour. When I whispered to my husband that I miss music, a passenger rose who hadn’t heard our talk plugged his phone to the boat speakers and blasted off music. My husband complained I asked for music, I should have asked for something more valuable to have it be magically answered.

The last supper passed. So did the last night in Kerala, my little sliver of heaven.  And effectively, with a blink of an eye, India had passed.

We came back to Bangalore and checked into the Palm Oasis, where the children played in the pool, did some more last-minute shopping, ate at Barbeque Nation where  kabobs were grilled right on our tables. We wrapped up India and despite the sadness of an end, our hearts and soul looked forward to returning home. We returned fuller and complete.

Categories
non-fiction Travel

India Chronicles: #6 – The place that heals the sick – Munnar, Kerala – Day 1 & 2

Kerala. The Southernmost state of India. Most literate state of India. Matriarchal Society (mother’s name carries the family name). Spoken Language: Malayalam. Must-Buy: Kanchipuram Saris and Stalls made from banana leaves. Must-eat: Fresh fish. 34.8 million people rich. Capital: Thiruvananthapuram.

They say God lives in nature. Beauty can uplift a tired soul, heal a broken heart, instill it with purpose, even a coughing-up-a-storm with tattered coughing chest type of a person I had become by day 9 of India.

It was January 1st of 2019. A clean slate (even if carrying the same burden of problems). A fresh start even if just another day. But without a shard of a doubt, a brand-new destination awaited us (from a new culture to new sights).

And at 9 a.m., we were above the clouds, an unnamed hope tugged in our hearts. The pilot was kind enough to tell us of the mountain ranges under the plane, and I clicked one too many photos.

IMG_1053-2939136300-1547646690569.jpg

Setting foot at Cochin Airport,  THE FIRST SOLAR AIRPORT OF THE WORLD, we were amazed by the cleanliness of the airport. Search for a speck of dust would disappoint, and one could comb one’s hair through the reflection in the shiny, dark floor.

The name of our driver was Ajmal, the man who slept in the car, all four nights, with family in Cochin but comes to Munnar weekly.

And even the littlest of hearts noted the lush greenness of the region. The banana trees sprawled the landscape where rivers cut through with the volume I had only seen in rivers of America. A vast majority of rivers in India were drying up, and welcoming the contrast, I had not forgotten what happened in Kerala just a few months before we set foot in it – deep flooding. So, nature has its mysterious ways.

Munnar is three or so hours east of Cochin, away from the coast, home to the tea plantations. A small town. A simple town.

Driving to Munnar…

Our first stop was to get fruits, only fruits were comforting to my tattered throat. Second stop? Waterfall! The base of this waterfall was dirty but the sound, the sight was refreshing for my sore eyes. We spent a few moments before resuming our journey to Munnar but now that the mountains had begun, so did waterfalls crashing along the sides of these giants, the plantations, the lakes in the mysterious valleys below, the lookout points and the coughing mess had forgotten the discomfort of a cough.

Munnar. 38K population. Former resort for British Raj elite established in late 19th century.

To top the beauty of wildflowers along a mountain, was a dose of culture, a dance show, Kathakali which means demonstration of a story through dance. Last order of business was coffee and this night, after previous two was first I slept some of it between the pangs of illnesses with heart happy with joy, happy to be in the presence of clouds where dreams surely come true, illnesses surely heal, sins surely wash away just by looking at a mountain painted pink by rising sun.

Memories from the first day …

We rose with the sun, warmed with a buffet breakfast to behold more lakes, dams, the top station in Tamil Nadu (neighboring state) wrapped in clouds. Our souls were getting cleansed by the sounds and sights of nature, even mother and baby elephants eating by the lakeside in the valley beneath us. Pure and utter bliss.

Not included in the photos is the elephant ride we took – bumpy and probably will not do again but it was an experience for the children, riding and then, feeding the giant mammal.

We wrapped this day with hearts full. Next day, was still unchartered because a statewide strike was declared. Strike? That is, expect all shops, restaurants, etc., to close. Expect violence. Why? Because of inequality between men and women that is nurtured in India, even in the most beautiful of all places. A temple was open for years only to men because women are considered impure because of their monthly cycle. Women fought for their rights and Supreme Court sided with them. So, lawfully, two women accompanied by police, entered the temple. The BJP government, the ruling party of India, our prime minister’s party, declared the strike in protest.

What would we do on a day we were to visit the national park near Munnar and make the 3-4 hour journey back to the coast to Kumarakom? Could we do it?  Would we see lunatics on streets making highways un-passable? All because man does not consider all equal.

Follow

Get the latest posts delivered to your mailbox: