Kerala – God’s own country

Kerala, a tiny strip of land in southern most India is famously known as God’s own country. It is rated as one of the top tourist spots in the world.

Vast stretches of green paddy fields lined with groves of palm trees make for simply mesmerising scenery. Its stunning backwaters and palm-fringed beaches are a hub for tourists flocking from all around the world.

This week Kerala will be heralding the beginning of the harvest season with Onam, its most important festival. For tourists each year during this time a snake boat race is held at Alleppey.

The capital Trivandrum is famous for Kovalam beach, with its white sand and emerald waters. The ancient temple Sri Padmanabha Swamy fulfils every visitor's spiritual quest.

Temples in Kerala lack grandeur unlike temples in other Indian states, but their architecture is known for its simplicity and floral carvings. Even the rituals during festivals and marriage ceremonies are short and simple.

The city of Cochin is often called the Queen of the Arabian Sea. It is a major business center for the spice trade.

A visit to Fort Kochi and Mattanchery Palace built by the Portuguese in 1557 will give some insight into the rich history of this area. Ancient Chinese fishing nets are still in existence at Fort Kochi.

Tourists can take special boat rides around Vembanad Lake that take them to Bolgahatty Island. The main sites of interest are Bolgahatty palace and the Cochin Jewish area. There is still a sizable Jewish population whose ancestors came from Western Asia many centuries ago.

The Church St Francis built in 1510 by the Portuguese, which houses the mortal remains of Vasco da Gama, is also a major tourist draw.

If the heat becomes unbearable one can retreat to the cool ambience of the Munnar hill station, which is 137 kilometers from Cochin. A visit to Eravikulam National park enables you to catch sight of Nilgiri goats grazing on rolling hills.

From Munnar the nearest tourist spot to visit is Thekkady. Periyar lake is situated here. The calmness of the lake and stark skeletal remains of trees protruding from the waters give it a primeval feel. If lucky, one can see wild elephants roaming nearby.

The Poorum festival at Trichur showcases the procession of colorful caparisoned elephants amidst thundering drums.

Kerala's rich cultural art is highlighted though the famous mime dance drama Kathakali. One can also view the age old martial art Kalaripatu. Some believe that it was from Kalaripatu, that judo and karate originated.

The state is governed by a communist regime and has the distinction of having highest rate of literacy in India. Most people wear white to cope with the tropical climate. The labor union plays a decisive role in preventing big industries from investing in Kerala. Labor protests and strikes are the order of the day. What keeps the state going is the 1000 crore remittance sent in by the expatriates working in the gulf and other parts of the world.

Though Kerala enjoys two seasonal monsoons, for the rest of the time it is hot and humid. The best time to visit Kerala is from August to February

My thoughts on Kerala

I have Malayali parents and was born outside Kerala. For thousands of people like me, Onam is our link with Kerala. On the global tourist map, Kerala is commonly known as god's own country as it is considered a paradise on earth. Onam day is a special moment in my life. I get nostalgic about summer holidays in Kerala as a child. When school closed for summer vacation, my parents would take me to Kerala for a month-long holiday. Growing up in Mumbai, I always felt cut off from my distant relatives and cousins, so visiting Kerala was always a joyful occasion

In those days, the journey to Kerala was long and tedious, two grueling nights holed up in the cubicle of a rocking Jayanthi Janata train. Throughout the journey, I would remain glued to the window, looking out and savoring the boundaries of meadows, mountains, plains and rivers disappearing past me. Early in the morning of the third day, I would get excited as the train ran along the coastal belt of Kerala. When I rolled up the rust-laden window shutters, a gush of cool wind would hit me. I would close my eyes and take a deep breath, wafting in the wet soil of the earth from the overnight drizzle. The rest of the journey would be a feast for the eyes: farmers tilling green paddy fields, rows of boats heaped with coconuts husks sailing on glittering rivers, Chinese fishing nets dangling in the hands of fishermen, tiny villages with thatched houses hidden amid the swaying palm trees and women spinning long threads of husk in a rope coir factory.

Once I reached the comfort of my tiled home, it was an altogether different experience. The smell of soot emanating from the kitchen would hit my nostrils as women puffed air through a short narrow round pipe to light a fire in the clay stove. The women folk would sweat it out standing near the heated kitchen, busy preparing the morning breakfast for a large household.

Breakfast consisted of a southern delicious preparation of idlis (rice cakes) and dosas (wet rice and gram paste flattened and heated), served with hot piping sambar and crunchy coconut curries. At lunch and dinner, boiled rice was served with curries. Mangoes and jackfruits were the delicacies of the season.

I would savor my breakfast and lunch under the watchful and warm presence of my granny while the aroma of jasmine flowers wafted through the window. In the evenings, my cousins and I would play hide and seek, running atop the rain-soaked, slippery tiled roof; at times, due to our weight, the tiles would cave in and our feet would get stuck. These incidents were well-kept secrets, as we wanted to avoid getting a thrashing from our uncles -- secrets, that is, until the wooden ceiling leaked in the next rain.

The nights were dark; in the silence, the wall clock would loudly hammer tick tock. At times, the sound of big house rats scurrying around the rooftop would petrify me. In the middle of the night, when I got up to piddle outside the house courtyard (the toilets were detached from the main house back then) I would get over the act fast, fearing the looming shadows of the swaying palm trees. Cows tied to the shed would moo all night when they were hungry.

Out in the lush green paddy fields, walking through the narrow hedges of the water canal was a tricky balancing act. It was a thrilling experience to lie below the palm trees enjoying the evening breeze and listening to the drums beating and hymns emanating from the nearby temple. The deep throated humming of the brown kites from treetops and the sound of the passing bullock-driven rickety carts were music to the ears.

I am not much of a religious type, yet I enjoyed visiting temples in Kerala; the inner ambience of the temple and the smell of the soot emanating from the oil lamps would stir my thoughts.

Sadly, today, I find much of the past Kerala missing, thanks to the rapid urbanization taking place there. The lush green paddy fields are fast disappearing. There is a lack of laborers and youths are unwilling to take up farming. The forestland is quickly being depleted to make room for hotels and lodges. The state boasts 100 percent literacy but unemployment is high. The state lags far behind in industrial development due to the fear of the business community to invest in the state because of the Communist-driven militant labor policy. Hartal (strikes) and protest marches on the streets is the order of the day. A fractured election mandate sees the state ruled in turn by the Congress and the Communist-led coalition governments. Today the state economy is managed from the thriving tourist industry and from the millions of petro-dollar remittances sent by tens of thousands of expatriates toiling hard abroad

                                                                                                Rajen Nair

                                                                         ( Extract from my published articles on Kerala )