a million shades of green and then, some more. lakshmi's eyes cooled at the sight of mother nature preening herself.
lakshmi looked forward to visiting kerala. every year, she travelled in the monsoons, either June or August. this time she coaxed the passenger sitting across the aisle seat to take the upper birth. with two exclusive windows to the outside world lakshmi got ready to savour kerala.
the change in scenery from the bordering tamil nadu to kerala is simply divine. with her ample cheeks pressed against the cool painted-over-rust window rails of the second class compartment, lakshmi smelt the fresh morning. flying droplets of rain washed her face and woke up the senses. lakshmi closed her eyes and let it cleanse the body and soul.
lakshmi's best memories of kerala lasted till she turned 23. her passion for journalism took her to bombay. there she worked like a beaver for ananda bazaar patrika's businessworld magazine. it did a lot to her career. she permitted herself to one long break every year. this yearly trip to kerala provided one of those rare chances to get away from the big city. she made the best of it.
lakshmi opened her eyes to the sound of train passing over a bridge. in her younger days, she worried about accidents. she tried to gauge the depth of the river, then the adjoining bridge that took trains back to bombay. how old does the bridge look? does it have any decayed bits? is there civilisation nearby to fish us out if the train toppled over? with the passage of time and countless journeys back and forth, she began to enjoy the nature more.
the river was wide and stretched from the horizon. the lone vallom [long open boat resembling a canoe, but slightly bigger] looked lost in the river that was in spate. no directions or traffic lights here. the slow train stopped. the dark clouds squeezed itself dry and brought forth more rain before it moved on.
the man on the vallom leaned on the pole [much like a punt] and walked the narrow side of the vallom pushing it by his feet. head bowed and shaded by a large round bamboo hat, his bare body tucked into a lungi [long, colourful cloth wrapped around the waist reaching the feet] the punter dug his feet in. he walked back to the fore, dug the pole in and push-walked to the aft propelling the vallom. much before the vallom disappeared from lakshmi's sight, the train started again.
the shores of the river were tightly packed with coconut trees. from a distance they resembled the head of medusa. some coconut trees bent and almost touched the water at waist level and then reared its head up. others stood straight up and eves dropped on others. a thatched house, white-washed walls painted by big wet patches, shone among the wetness. half-clad children tried to keep pace with the train waving wildly till the terrain became treacherous. the thick vegetation sported a dark green, much darker hue, due to the morning light.
the train moved on to more open spaces. the wet green openness cooled the heart. neatly divided farm plots looked like a microscopic view of a giant tiled green carpet. the monsoon season is the start of the harvest season. except for the corner patches, most rice fields are square and is about 25 sq. ft. flat-chested women stood bent at the waist with legs spread out in ankle-deep muddy water planting saplings.
it began to rain again, heavily. the landscape began to prepare for a big town. vegetation thinned and brick and mortar dwellings stepped out marking the foundation of a concrete jungle. the train stopped, presumably for a red signal. a loud splash called lakshmi's attention. a big pool of water came into view. droplets of rain pounded on the dark green surface and drew continuous designs of concentric circles. the pool [or kulam in malayalam] is normally twice the size of an average swimming pool. the earth is dug up, roughly in square formations of 100 feet. the walls and steps are paved with stone. the water is filled naturally by springs.
the farthest end of the kulam facing the train is covered by a low tiled enclosure. these are two separate entrances, or kadavu, for men and women. the men's kadavu had a crop of children jumping and splashing about. one brave child ran up to the kulam and jumped from the side, a 20 feet drop. the other kadavu held two women. one woman was beating clothes on a piece of stone. the younger girl, probably her daughter, was crouching up in the water with bare shoulders. water poured down from the tiled roof in front of her forming a veil. her long black hair formed a fan around her floating in the water. lakshmi felt her piercing eyes frank with curiosity.
...to be continued.
lakshmi looked forward to visiting kerala. every year, she travelled in the monsoons, either June or August. this time she coaxed the passenger sitting across the aisle seat to take the upper birth. with two exclusive windows to the outside world lakshmi got ready to savour kerala.
the change in scenery from the bordering tamil nadu to kerala is simply divine. with her ample cheeks pressed against the cool painted-over-rust window rails of the second class compartment, lakshmi smelt the fresh morning. flying droplets of rain washed her face and woke up the senses. lakshmi closed her eyes and let it cleanse the body and soul.
lakshmi's best memories of kerala lasted till she turned 23. her passion for journalism took her to bombay. there she worked like a beaver for ananda bazaar patrika's businessworld magazine. it did a lot to her career. she permitted herself to one long break every year. this yearly trip to kerala provided one of those rare chances to get away from the big city. she made the best of it.
lakshmi opened her eyes to the sound of train passing over a bridge. in her younger days, she worried about accidents. she tried to gauge the depth of the river, then the adjoining bridge that took trains back to bombay. how old does the bridge look? does it have any decayed bits? is there civilisation nearby to fish us out if the train toppled over? with the passage of time and countless journeys back and forth, she began to enjoy the nature more.
the river was wide and stretched from the horizon. the lone vallom [long open boat resembling a canoe, but slightly bigger] looked lost in the river that was in spate. no directions or traffic lights here. the slow train stopped. the dark clouds squeezed itself dry and brought forth more rain before it moved on.
the man on the vallom leaned on the pole [much like a punt] and walked the narrow side of the vallom pushing it by his feet. head bowed and shaded by a large round bamboo hat, his bare body tucked into a lungi [long, colourful cloth wrapped around the waist reaching the feet] the punter dug his feet in. he walked back to the fore, dug the pole in and push-walked to the aft propelling the vallom. much before the vallom disappeared from lakshmi's sight, the train started again.
the shores of the river were tightly packed with coconut trees. from a distance they resembled the head of medusa. some coconut trees bent and almost touched the water at waist level and then reared its head up. others stood straight up and eves dropped on others. a thatched house, white-washed walls painted by big wet patches, shone among the wetness. half-clad children tried to keep pace with the train waving wildly till the terrain became treacherous. the thick vegetation sported a dark green, much darker hue, due to the morning light.
the train moved on to more open spaces. the wet green openness cooled the heart. neatly divided farm plots looked like a microscopic view of a giant tiled green carpet. the monsoon season is the start of the harvest season. except for the corner patches, most rice fields are square and is about 25 sq. ft. flat-chested women stood bent at the waist with legs spread out in ankle-deep muddy water planting saplings.
it began to rain again, heavily. the landscape began to prepare for a big town. vegetation thinned and brick and mortar dwellings stepped out marking the foundation of a concrete jungle. the train stopped, presumably for a red signal. a loud splash called lakshmi's attention. a big pool of water came into view. droplets of rain pounded on the dark green surface and drew continuous designs of concentric circles. the pool [or kulam in malayalam] is normally twice the size of an average swimming pool. the earth is dug up, roughly in square formations of 100 feet. the walls and steps are paved with stone. the water is filled naturally by springs.
the farthest end of the kulam facing the train is covered by a low tiled enclosure. these are two separate entrances, or kadavu, for men and women. the men's kadavu had a crop of children jumping and splashing about. one brave child ran up to the kulam and jumped from the side, a 20 feet drop. the other kadavu held two women. one woman was beating clothes on a piece of stone. the younger girl, probably her daughter, was crouching up in the water with bare shoulders. water poured down from the tiled roof in front of her forming a veil. her long black hair formed a fan around her floating in the water. lakshmi felt her piercing eyes frank with curiosity.
...to be continued.
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