JOIN USThe simple, slow & serene life in the backwaters
At the edge of the water, where the blue met the brown of the reeds, there was a baby coconut floating by. It came along with our chundan vallam (snake boat) which glided silently on the shallow waters that looked deeper than they were. Once or twice, the baby coconut somersaulted, just like a baby that’s unafraid to play in water would do. Perhaps. And then it followed its own path. Maybe it found its home. Maybe it was just playing hide and seek. I gazed at it, without too many thoughts running through my head — on that boat, in that early afternoon, with the sun mildly caressing our backs and the waters gentle and unobtrusive, I experienced true luxury — the much-vaunted bliss of being in the moment with neither thoughts of past nor worries of the future fighting for space in my cluttered head. A second in real time but an instant of pure mindfulness, the sort that is extolled in Japanese pop philosophy books. And the sort we who dwell amidst crazy schedules, parent-teacher meetings, chest infections and whooshing deadlines rarely get to experience.
Kerala though, despite its aggressive touristy thrust and now overused tagline, has many such opportunities to experience the slow life. But first, you have to tell yourself to tie up your sprigs of cynicism and hide it beneath that new Kasavu saree you found yourself buying, despite the fact that all your sarees at home are untouched, and who knows, secretly hatching eggs. Once that’s done, head over to Trivandrum, yes Thiruvananthapuram, but Trivandrum has a twang to it. It is the capital city and the most populous, the guidebooks will tell you, but they will not tell you how its air is languorous and its heart unhurried.
Do not go by the crowds milling around the Padmanabhaswamy temple. Take a slight detour and you will step into the hushed world of Kuthiramalika — the mansion of horses — where once resided the great music composer-king and patron of arts Maharaja Swati Tirunal. Anointed as the Maharaja of Travancore at 16, Swati Tirunal Rama Varma lived here, in this wood-panelled and ivory-etched sanctuary, amongst his many instruments, composing poetry in many languages, sculpting, painting and creating allegorical poems of longing (padams), all the while gazing at the lofty, pyramidical gopuram that housed his favourite god.
A section of the palace, named for the 122 horses that are supposedly carved in its wall brackets, has been converted into a museum. Built entirely of granite, marble, teakwood and rosewood, its floor largely made of limestone, the museum houses some of the riches and belongings of the royal family of Travancore — a curious medley of Kathakali mannequins, ivory thrones, crystal chandeliers, Greek statues and even a Belgian harpoon! I fell back a little, deliberately, to escape the drone of the tourist guide. Left alone, with the silence taking its rightful place again around me, I looked out of its window brackets, ran my hands on the walls, felt the grain of the centuries-old rosewood and stumbled into a sanctuary within a sanctuary, an alcove, where, I came to know later, Swati Tirunal preferred to ruminate and create his music in.
Creation, in an atmosphere of freedom and beauty, is the concept behind the Kerala Arts and Crafts Village (KACV) in Kovalam, around 17 km from Trivandrum. In this vast space, you are advised to get lost. Who knows, you might end up, like I did, amidst pepper and ginger plants, with faint whiffs of cardamom, cinnamon and honey following me around. Turns out it was the ‘nature trail’ where traditional Kerala spices and products made of bamboo, pinewood, etc., are sold in little huts scattered along the trail. KACV, a flagship initiative of the Kerala government’s department of tourism, is ambitious and alluring in equal measure. Spread over 8.5 acres, the ‘village’ houses nearly 30 craft studios where one can stand, browse, walk around or sit quietly (with no one pressurising you to buy) and witness artisans, craftspersons and their apprentices create their craft — from coconut husk Buddhas to exquisitely carved wooden elephant masks and rosewood jewellery boxes. There’s also a ‘handloom village’ within the premises where artisans demonstrate weaving techniques and take you through the different stages of production, only if you are keen. Me, I was content to watch at my pace, sneak in and out of the many craft studios and walk around the art gallery, my footsteps echoing in its empty halls rich with endeavour and effort.
A day later, when I was gazing out of the large french window of the room in my hotel, which overlooked the calm Arabian sea of Kollam and its century-old lighthouse, I remembered the king who composed and wished I could too. It was night and little twinkling lights were on here and there, not too many, not intrusive. The lighthouse flashed its diamond light as it perhaps did every night and I peered beyond the horizon, imagining a kindred soul on the deck of a ship catching its beam at the same time I did from the warmth of my room. My cab had arrived and I knew it was time to return to more prosaic pursuits. For you see, it is always good to remember that enough is a feast.
(The writer was in Kerala on an invitation from the Department of Tourism, Government of Kerala.)