Musings on news and views in a crisis

So, we are planning our drive to Tellicherry. The rains are definitely going to make the journey difficult. We read newspaper reports about gushing rivers, overflowing reservoirs, broken bridges and blocked ghat roads. 

Just as we are driving down the Ooty - Gudalur road, my phone beeps and I see a WhatsApp message from my sardarji neighbour, who is the first to know and spread every news that matters - "landslide on Ooty - Gudalur road!" I am a bit shaken, don't want to break a bad news and so we carry on our drive.....yes, there are signs of a landslide but the efficient authorities have cleared the roads a couple of days ago. His information is from an old WhatsApp message, probably from an earlier rainy season, making its appearance again. 

We take advice from a cousin who suggests the Vythiri route from Sultan's Battery. Someone else asks us to check the ground situation before proceeding any further. Enquiring with locals, we are advised to avoid the said route and instead re-routed to Mananthavady. So, off we go through a maze of roads only to find that they all lead to gushing waters, shoulder height. We call the cousin for help who is annoyed that we did not heed his advice. And, we are left to fend for ourselves. Most people offer help eagerly but rarely based on genuine or real time information. 

Then another text message pops in. This is from Uncleji, enquiring about my family in Kerala. So good of him to think of my relatives, I think to myself. I tell him that I am on my way there. He warns me about the raging flood waters, wants me to change my plans, advising me to take a U-turn right away. I want to tell him that Kerala is a longish state, I am headed for Tellicherry and there is a sea of difference between Cannannore and Chengannur, especially in the context of the deluge.

My younger friends are smart. They believe that it is their right to be helpful, showing off how savvy they are with technology. I see them post location pins on their Facebook timeline - am unable to understand these posts but don't want to ask lest I sound foolish. I soon realise that they pinning locations of individuals who are looking to be rescued from the rising waters. And, in many cases, those individuals have already been rescued. An annoyed Chief Minister of Kerala himself releases a public communication asking people to recheck before asking for help.

Such is our world today! Lots of news to share, lots of ways to share news, lots of people sharing news but need to deal with every piece of communication with utmost care so that one is not carried away or misled.

The Temple of Arts - Kalakshetra!

A surprise call this morning prompted me to fish out these pictures for my blog. I had the chance to join a conducted tour of Kalakshetra a few years ago.

Despite having lived in the vicinity of the Temple of Arts for most of my life, I remember it being full of surprises for me. And, there was something spiritual about the campus for me.

The Banyan Tree which came as a sapling from the original home of Kalakshetra in the Theosophical Society and is now the nerve centre of the campus

Dance classes in progress under the banyan tree

Open classroom

Entrance to one of the many dance cottages on the campus where classes are conducted

Some more  of the cottages - simple yet beautiful!

A guest house on the campus

A bust of Rabindranath Tagore, who founded a similar institution in Shantiniketan

Mahavishnu

The campus notice board - how neat!

A campus pet too!

Padmapushkarini - the lotus pond! Revived recently to host music concerts 

The Koothamabalam - an auditorium built in the style of Kerala theatre, has been in the renovation mode for a while now. Attending performances in this theatre is a wonderful experience. 

A multipurpose hall - the simplicity and beauty of the buildings is indeed what makes the campus special

Terracotta guardians of the campus

The Ayyanar horses

More terracotta guardians

Not the terracotta warriors, really!

The guardians in their splendour!

PRIDE not prejudice!

A decade long struggle!

On Sunday June 24, 2018, I participated in my first  PRIDE March. That it had been taking place in conservative Chennai for the last ten years, was an eye opener in itself - I had not heard about the event in Chennai ever. It was also a reflection of the lack of my knowledge and awareness of the LGBTIQA+ scene in Chennai. Organised by the Tamil Nadu Rainbow Collective, this year's March drew crowds in excess of 500, a record of sorts, I believe.

The March itself had a tentative start with permission from the police authorities coming at the nth hour. Starting at the Rajarathnam Stadium in Egmore, the route of the March was through a nondescript bylane filled with abandoned cars and grubby garages, dotted with run down hostels and slum dwellings, along the southern bank of filthy Cooum river. It was most ironical - I felt that it was a reflection of the lives of the LGBTIQA+ - mostly ignored, closeted, alienated, discriminated, victims of hate, violence and harassment. 

Human pin up board!

In contrast, the March was all colour. The bright shades of PRIDE were fully on show with many participants draped in colourful costumes. There was glitter and shine to add to the attraction with flags, umbrellas, banners and pompoms. Many hid their faces behind masks, struggling to come out fearing rejection and discrimination. The mood was festive and felt like a carnival, with participants singing, dancing and enjoying themselves along the way. The banners carried interesting slogans that emphasized the themes of acceptance and inclusion besides spreading love.

Team from Ford - photo courtesy: Sathish Vasudevan

There was heavy police presence for the March and many of the cops that I spoke to were curious to know why I was attending the event and inquired if my family was aware and supported my participation. A few of them wondered aloud if the parents/ family of the March participants "knew" they were there. Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code came in for much criticism with slogans calling for repealing the same. Posters and banners also carried messages seeking review of its constitutional validity.

Gay abandon! Photo courtesy: The Hindu

The PRIDE March attempts to build a sense of community while allowing a safe space for members of the LGBTIQA+ fraternity to feel comfortable with their own identities and sexual preferences. 

I must admit that participation in the PRIDE March made me feel a sense of complete acceptance - I felt accepted as I was accepting of the other. What better way than this to drive a message on inclusion.

Navarasas!

In the last fortnight, we have been moving around quite a bit - it has almost been like a brief capsule of real life. I say this because I got to experience all the NAVARASAS - the nine emotions/ essences that were described by Bharata in his treatise, Natyashashtra.

Shringara (love) - Just being with family through most of the last few days, though we had our moments of fights, disagreements and arguments. Whether it was my brother, mother-in-law, niece, nephew, sister-in-law besides my husband and son, the circle of love one's strength and pride and worthy of protection always.

Hasya (laughter) - The millennials are a funny lot. At a convocation ceremony, which in my time was a solemn and heavy function where you had to conduct yourself well, students, soon to be freshly minted graduates, walked up to collect their degrees, suddenly burst into a jig - one did a Dab dance (check out YouTube to know more about this dance!), another blew a heart to the audience while a third got the chief guest to pose for a picture with him - not the other way round. I must give it to them for never losing an opportunity to be themselves :)

Karuna (compassion) - Performing the final rituals for my brother on the first anniversary of his passing away along with several others doing the same for their long gone relatives, it was indeed a humbling experience - the pervasiveness of loss should in fact make us more empathetic and compassionate, because we are all not here forever. The fact that his children stood next to me in the Papanasini stream flowing beside what may be India's oldest temple at Thirunelli in Wayanad was special, truly special.

Raudra (anger) - At every family or social gathering, all the discussions meandered towards BJP, Modi, Congress, Secular, Muslim, Beef, 2019.......everyone had all the facts and figures to support their arguments, not sure if anyone had everything right. The heat generated by the discussions was palpable. People were identifying with people like them. Of course, I mostly withdrew while some others slept. Politics seem to tear right through the middle of family and friends. Is this all that we are destined for? Makes my angry, really angry!

Veera (courage) - Driving through Nagarahole in the hope of spotting that elusive Tiger, one is all courage. So, I never got to test my courage (or the lack of it) since we did not see any, despite many forays into the forests. Disappointed, disappointed, very disappointed......but courage intact!

Bhayanaka (terror) - On a forest trek through thick forests near our resort, the guide brought to our notice the fresh smell of an elephant and the sound of his belly rumblings. The eerie silence of the forest when peppered with these telltale signs of wildlife, with the realisation that you are pretty much at nature's mercy, was really scary.

Bheebhatsya (disgust) - Being routed on landing in Shanghai airport to a line of machines for capturing biometrics - all ten fingers, before immigration clearance. Now, I am not entirely comfortable sharing my unique identity with my own government, why should I do this for another government? Can I refuse? Perhaps yes, but that would mean I turn around and go back home. Catch 22, indeed!

Adbutha (surprise) - Landing in Delhi after a brief trip to China and (for the first time) not cursing "my wretched country" (my own words) for not getting anything right. In fact, everything was perfect - the airport and the efficiency all around, no wait for the luggage, no jostling taxi drivers, clean and neat roads lined with golden showers of laburnum. It helped that it was peak summer and there were few people on the roads.

Shantha (peace or tranquility) - Sitting in our jungle facing deck at our resort, watching flocks of deer, a pair of wild boar, Mr. and Mrs. Peacock, a family of gaurs, a majestic tusker making a grand entrance, all ambling towards the waterhole in the evening.....with the chirping of birds and the indefatigable cricket, in the background. You realise that the Lord God made everything in this world with a perfect sense of balance and order!

A railway station that time may soon forget.......

Castlerock - a fancy name that still remains. The first station in Karnataka as you enter the state from Goa.

Light and shade - blue and green - old and new!

Nothing like this to catch an Indian's attention......remember the school bell?

The big boss of the place! The designation has an American feel to it compared to the more British, Station Master!

Who in India does not have a railway connection? The Railway Unions would never lose an opportunity to fight for justice!

What may once have been railway quarters for the staff......now in shambles.....

I am sure someone has fond memories of having stayed in this house

When there are no people, what's the need for an ambulance?

If you find them, do report. But only one lady rogue - where's the diversity?

Cast in stone! CASTLEROCK!

A trip to the Sea of Milk!

That could have been the setting for the Temple of Doom!

We had checked out the timings of the Vasco – Vailankanni Express. It was to depart from the Margao station at 9.20am and so we were ready from our Siolim base at 7am, a rather early start for a holiday activity. The drive to Margao was uneventful, the fog from the previous day had not lifted in some places, the sun had yet to dry up the early morning dew and there were few people of the road. We parked the car and the parking contractor did not bat an eyelid when we informed him that we’d be away for a day to view the Dudhsagar (pronounced Doodh Sagar, not Dudh Sagar!) Falls – he seemed quite used to this based on his past experiences, when folks like us may have followed the same routine. 

We boarded the train and after some initial jostling for a comfortable (as comfortable as comfortable can get!) seat in an unreserved compartment, we were on our way. We passed paddy fields first, saw lush green vegetation along the tracks and gushing streams every now and then, all mostly the result of the recent monsoon rains. This is the kind of scenery that would have inspired a Rudyard Kipling or Indiana Jones.

Kulem station - building an air of anticipation

We stopped briefly at Kulem which is a small and nondescript station with an air of a busy Victoria Terminus. There is an inherent sense of calm and quiet that envelops the station but there is evidence that the station does not want to be passed over. After all, it was the gateway to the Falls from the Goa side. Until fairly recently, people wanting to see the Falls would have “alighted” (that’s the word!) at this station and made the trek over the tracks to watch the Falls in all its splendor. 

A couple of railway tunnels later, there is a buzz in the compartment and all eyes (and cameras) are trained on the waterfalls that make their first appearance (on the left side of the train). But I have been awaiting them on the right side! So, did I miss them? Just as I was drowning in sea of disappointment, I am reassured to keep faith……and lo and behold, the Ocean of Milk appears on my side (the right one!). Closer, grander and laden with water. It is simply spectacular! 

Winding train tracks

There is a sigh of contentment as the train moves on……many years ago, I am told, that the spray from the Falls would drench the passengers in the train, it appears to have thinned out over the years – perhaps rains have been lesser, we have played with the water flow….. And, I also understand that the train would make a “stop” close to the Falls – ostensibly for technical reasons but I believe, to give passengers a better view of the Falling Waters! I wonder why this was stopped.

Cannot really call it a station!

The train then makes a brief halt at an apology of a station, Dudhsagar – a place that seemed to have chosen to give up its own identity for the natural phenomenon that gave it its name.

Winding the other way!

Our journey to view the Falls ended at the Castlerock Station, some 15 tunnels beyond the mighty Falls. A delayed train forced us to spend some languid three hours in a place that perhaps time forgot. 

When the train arrived, we boarded it, this time wiser and prepared to catch the Falls from the other side too.

It all comes together here.... 

Pouring over.....

Streams from all over.....

Dudhsagar is a tiered waterfall!

Don't miss that bridge the the train went over!

The last glimpse!

Ayisha Manzil

Tellicherry (Thalassery in Malayalam) is my father's hometown and a town that I have visited since my childhood. Famous for the three Cs - Cricket (the first cricket match was played by the natives here), Circus (Keeleri Kunhikannan, considered the pioneer of Indian circus hailed from here and so did a good number of circus artistes) and Cakes (the bakery revolution of Kerala was ushered when the first cake was baked here) - the town brings very fond memories of holidays spent with uncles, aunts and cousins in my grandmother's place - located along the Malabar Coast in the state of Kerala. Our locality in the town was dotted by homes of relatives that we usually stayed in while on visits - and there was never a question of checking for convenience, for it was taken for granted and that was the expectation. 

View of the Arabian Sea from Ayisha Manzil

So, to stay in a homestay when we were visiting for a niece's wedding was something that was unusual in terms of family protocol. However, we were too drawn to the idea to not make use of this opportunity to savour the experiences at Ayisha Manzil. Situated on a hillock abutting the Arabian Sea, is this quaint and much lived bungalow which is over a hundred years old. The owners have mostly retained the originality and character of the place except for modern comforts like better bathrooms, air conditioning and the addition of a swimming pool. 

Traditional Kerala architecture with modern enhancements

It felt like we were coming home after the long 16 hour drive from Chennai. The drive had been uneventful but for a flat tyre detected near Mysore. This is a trip that we have done many times before, trying different routes on previous occasions. The man of the house, Moosa, was expecting us at his much appreciated homestay. Unfortunately, the lady of the house, Faiza, was away for a business engagement. Moosa, a graduate from the Madras Catering College, was a pioneer of the homestay "industry" in God's Own Country, Kerala. His homestay has been popularised largely by word of mouth and many of his guests come back to spend a few days every year or two. During our stay, he regaled us with stories of British aristocracy who came with a fleet of vehicles that carried their luggage, Belgian royalty who stayed over for experiencing a slice of real India and a famous author who penned one of his popular works sitting in one of the rooms.

Moosa makes for an excellent host. Gifted with tremendous energy, innate curiosity and genuine sensitivity, he takes a personal interest in making his guests comfortable, attending to their every need and request. He takes his guests along when he makes a round of the local fish market at the crack of dawn to select the items that will end up on the dining table later in the day. He organises trip to nearby temples for performances of Theyyam that are popular in this locality. He can organise a visit to one of the weaving places that dot Kannur, in the neighbourhood, and you can have access to home furnishings that find big brand buyers from across the world. And, how can one forget the spice markets that have brought fame to Tellicherry with the pricey and aromatic black pepper - an ingredient that in reality, finds little use in traditional Moplah cuisine.

Faiza manages the food at the homestay, its other hallmark. She has a reputation of being an authority on Moplah cuisine, local Muslim fare which carries influences that Arab traders brought to Kerala on a base that is entirely identifiable with the state. You cannot single out a dish that is her trademark - all of them were outstanding. During our stay, we had the good fortune to taste her fish biriyani, arikadukka (mussels wrapped in rice flour), mutta appam (lacy appams topped with an egg), neichoru (ghee rice), meen pathiri (fish stuffed rice pancakes), vattilappam (local caramel custard), mutta sikka (egg coins, literally) to name a few items - all cooked by her team that has obviously been well trained. If you are lucky, you could learn how to cook them in the cooking classes that she conducts for her guests. 

Between the two, all I can say is that they know how to get to their guests' hearts.

If you are looking for five star luxury, this is not the place. If you are looking for personalised and top rated service, this is not the place. However, if you are seeking a niche and special experience that will stay with you even after you have left the place, Ayisha Manzil is for you. 

Three nights at Ayisha Manzil and I was feeling like this was home. The food and the ambience of the place added to the experience of "being at home". If not this, what else is a homestay supposed to be?