Words : Martin R Edson
Photos : Travelbird ©

Kãma Kerala
       ...where the colours of everyday life
       burst onto the lackluster canvases of our souls...

On the ‘unchartered’ waterscapes of interior Kerala, Martin R Edson was surprised to see the colours of everyday life bursting on to the lackluster canvas of his soul.

Anyone who has spent time in Mumbai will recognize it as one of the most distracting and engaging cities in the world. And after living and working in Mumbai for a while you soon crave an escape – somewhere to recharge your batteries, take stock and relax a while.

For me, there’s no better place for this than Kerala. A two-hour flight from Mumbai, and my friend and I were soon riding along palm-fringed roads, where the colours of everyday life burst onto the lackluster canvases of our souls. We were already smiling and feeling more relaxed, but after a glass of the local sweet, black Kerala chai (tea) and a coconut dumpling, the feeling was expedited further still.

Soon enough we were deposited on a riverbank with our bags. One last kettuvallam (houseboat) was moored close by, which we assumed was ours. The river was wide and quiet and we were wondering where the other 400 houseboats we’d read about were as there was not a soul in sight. The only things in abundance were the swaying palm trees and the ready smiles from our 3-man crew.

' In equal proportion they are diverse and rich in wildlife: palm trees, paddy fields, birds, buffaloes, and Keralites going about their business were the engaging sights we absorbed right the way through until dusk '' In equal proportion they are diverse and rich in wildlife: palm trees, paddy fields, birds, buffaloes, and Keralites going about their business were the engaging sights we absorbed right the way through until dusk we knew it we were heading down the open river into, as far as we were concerned, unchartered waters. The backwaters are immense – some reports claim the waterways in this area total around 900km in length. In equal proportion they are diverse and rich in wildlife: palm trees, paddy fields, birds, buffaloes, and Keralites going about their business were the engaging sights we absorbed right the way through until dusk, and all at a civilized pace of about 8km per hour. The same speed as the traffic on the Western Express Highway, but with a much better view.

The conversation over dinner was which of the colorful riverside villas we would buy and who would do what in the small hotel that we would open. As we pondered our new Kerala lives we both noticed the undisputable sound all around that we’d not heard for quite some time: deafening silence. Sleep would be easy tonight as we dreamed a peaceful dream of a life outside the city.

It was the noise of water splashing that woke me the following morning. Once dressed I decided to investigate, still in a happy mood courtesy of the “toddy” we’d sampled the night before. Near to where we were moored, in the haze of the morning sun, was a small canoe. One man was in the boat while another was skin-diving to the bottom of the waterway gathering sand. I was not sure how deep the waters were, but was amazed to see how long the diver could hold his breath each time he went under. Breakfast over with we were on our way again. First we took in some Portuguese history by visiting some of the oldest churches and basilicas in the area. Next we saw one of the dragon boats, which are raced each year with great pageantry. After watching the duck farmers trying to contain their broods as they moved them down stream we decided to hit the shops and pick up some local produce and mementos.

The dhotis and lungis (the skirts that the men of Kerala wear), were far too practical not to miss and so I picked one up as a souvenir. After another fabulous meal onboard, I decided to try and put my new dhoti on, if I could remember how I was shown in the shop, much to my friend’s amusement. There’s an abundance of cloth – around two to three meters, which you can soon make into a bundled mess and resemble a child in a diaper.

After what seemed like hours of trial and error I heard some commotion. I turned around and on the opposite side of the riverbank we saw two Keralites dressed in their lunghis laughing at the spectacle of me attempting to look more “local”.

Our new friends took pity and proceeded, from the riverbank, to give me a second impromptu dhoti-tying demonstration. This time around I was rewarded with cheers and more laughter as after only five minutes of agile folding, pleating and tucking I’d done it!

India’s grip on me had just got that little bit tighter. And it wasn’t just the dhoti…

© travelbird