MY JOURNEY
This is not a travellers diary but a crazy note of my travel from palakkad to wadakanchery in God’s own country. Many Mallus won’t accept it to be a travel through Kerala but it’s my part of God’s country.
It requires special expertise to travel in Kerala’s public transport. Many may frown reading this, but for sure would agree if travel with a bag in hand and don’t find a seat to sit. Those soap box shaped buses playing Tamil tunes which no one seems to listen nor do understand but nobody objects. Ever fresh looking conductors and always in a haste drivers….. I guess these guys have two glands to pump extra adrenaline. These men never heard of Newton I believe… they accelerate and apply brake all with same haste, not realising that inertia would trouble their passengers. All in this haste my bus plied through the narrow but well laid roads of the country side carrying beautiful girls and ladies with nicely oiled hair, in the front and mostly mundu clad men at the rear. It’s Monsoon time, though oldies complain it doesn’t rain like olden days it was Green everywhere. The smell of green filled my nostrils at every halt and sweat due to humidity that drenched me at halts made me cool till the next halt.
Along the road sides there were many palatial villas the mark of present Kerala. Each being proof of some odd malayali contributing to the GDP of Gulf countries, U.S and many unknown countries in the globe. But I was also sure that most of those bunglows will be inhabited by two souls, an arthritic old woman and a diabetic old man with their loved ones in a far away land.
In the 2hrs journey I saw a rally with red flags chanting “Inkulab zindabad” which is relevant to Kerala but not a drop of rain which is more relevant in this month of the year. With memories of the journey I reached home still longing to experience Kerala’s Monsoon rains
This is not a travellers diary but a crazy note of my travel from palakkad to wadakanchery in God’s own country. Many Mallus won’t accept it to be a travel through Kerala but it’s my part of God’s country.
It requires special expertise to travel in Kerala’s public transport. Many may frown reading this, but for sure would agree if travel with a bag in hand and don’t find a seat to sit. Those soap box shaped buses playing Tamil tunes which no one seems to listen nor do understand but nobody objects. Ever fresh looking conductors and always in a haste drivers….. I guess these guys have two glands to pump extra adrenaline. These men never heard of Newton I believe… they accelerate and apply brake all with same haste, not realising that inertia would trouble their passengers. All in this haste my bus plied through the narrow but well laid roads of the country side carrying beautiful girls and ladies with nicely oiled hair, in the front and mostly mundu clad men at the rear. It’s Monsoon time, though oldies complain it doesn’t rain like olden days it was Green everywhere. The smell of green filled my nostrils at every halt and sweat due to humidity that drenched me at halts made me cool till the next halt.
Along the road sides there were many palatial villas the mark of present Kerala. Each being proof of some odd malayali contributing to the GDP of Gulf countries, U.S and many unknown countries in the globe. But I was also sure that most of those bunglows will be inhabited by two souls, an arthritic old woman and a diabetic old man with their loved ones in a far away land.
In the 2hrs journey I saw a rally with red flags chanting “Inkulab zindabad” which is relevant to Kerala but not a drop of rain which is more relevant in this month of the year. With memories of the journey I reached home still longing to experience Kerala’s Monsoon rains
- Hareesh Aravindakshan
