Distant Lands

Kerala is known as 'God`s own country'. You have to be there to realise it. It’s a land of endless splendors. It’s beauty is breath-taking. It’s a place where nature still nurtures.

Sometime back I went to kerala to attend a friends wedding. She was my college mate. Thamarassery is a microscopic village in kozhikode district.The bumpy roads didn’t stop the rumbling bus. 'Mayilvahanan travels' read the board on top of the bus. Its conductor had a thick moustache and was holding a leather bag (with the picture of mira jasmine) in his hand.

The bus spit four of us in Mangulam. And there was a boatman there flicking his mundu in style. We asked him the route for thamarassery. With a smiling face he offered us a ride in his boat. The ride was nice and cool, with the amber rays of sun making us to feel blue. From the distance I saw thamarassery.It is a little paradise.The entire geography of the village ends in 4 kilometers, but it has a world in itself.

Northern kerala is dotted with backwaters which give a typical feel to that place. Thamarassery is no exception to that. The boatman threw the half smoked malabar beedi as we landed in the village. The waterbody was still bathed by glittering rays of sun, which managed to perch through the coconut leaves. As a mark of respect, he removed the turban in his head.We gave him a hundred rupee note, which he accepted with a prayer.

I alone can hear him sing 'welcome to hotel kerala-fonia' …Arghh.

An old 'Prem Nazir - sheela' number was blaring from the nearby toddy shop as we walked past. On the other side of the road was a old malabar style house with a 'sickle-hammer' flag in its roof. Communism still sells in kerala.

All families in that village survive by the money sent by their dear-ones from dubai. My friend is no exception to that. Her brother is working in a leading petroleum company in abu dhabi. She got into our college through 'management quota'.
As we walked past a wooden bridge which was helplessly hanging over the water, I can see a wealthy settlement on the other side. It’s the place where all the 'dubai-settlers' have ther ancestoral homes.
Each house in that area was a piece of art-work. I don’t know what gives that traditional feel to them, the king-size pillars? The rezhi (vacant area in middle of the house)? Or is it just the smell of coconut trees nearby?
Tears of joy were rolling down from the eyes of my friend. She is the first one among our friends circle to enter into the next phase of life. Soon she will be going to fly into the distant lands of sharjah.
Whatever scarce malayalam we had learnt from our friend, we spoke. Or rather I should say 'we sang'. Yes.. It’s a musical language.
As we started after the ceremony we were given a bag of sweets.. Coconut.. Banana.. More coconut.. As we started from that beautiful village , I decided I should spend my retired life in Thamarassery. No doubt.. I would be a full time poet then.
Distant lands are always green!

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