We Took a Break.

So, remember how we told you how much we love travelling at Indebo? Well, this time we took all that love one notch up – we decided to put together a trip for all our staff at the office. Following a lot of arguments, we figured the one place where such a large group could peacefully relax and let their hair down could only be Kerala. It’s the Malabar, after all – blue water and blue skies, that is, if you manage to see past the deep green foliage above your head, and a significantly relaxing cultural atmosphere. By the time we set off from Delhi, everyone was basically looking forward to some delicious food, some simple travelling and a lot of bonding.

At first glance, the first day of the itinerary looked simple – getting  off the flight at ten, with the next  four hours earmarked as “local sightseeing around Cochin”, following which would be a lavish lunch. Only, that wasn’t entirely accurate – it came with a twist! Once everyone was out of the airport, they were handed an envelope each. A solitary card inside carried the name of a spice – the Malabar was also spice country, after all!

Historically speaking, it is practical knowledge for Malabari chefs – want some spices, get to Alleppey! Anyway, the ones who got the same ‘spice card’ then made a team – so we had six in all. Garam Masala, Red Chillies, Bay leaves, Yellow Turmeric, Green Cardamom and Black Pepper – our six teams then got into their coaches which dropped them off at different points around the city with one line of a clue each.

Indebo Staff at Cochin Airport

Yes, this was the madness behind the innocent itinerary! Inspired by the popular show ‘The Amazing Race’, our organising team had decided to put together a hunt of our own. Within the hour, there were six groups of Indebo staffers chasing down clues across Cochin – clues included everything and anything historical. From one of the oldest churches in the countries (Santa Cruz), sari weavers in Ernakulam district, the famous Cochin Synagogue and one of the oldest gold craft showrooms – clues were scattered everywhere that required the teams to fish deep and think hard. While some searched for the guide who held the next clue at Santa Cruz, others decided to talk to the salesmen and craftsmen in order to scoop out the other clues.

By the time all the clues were discovered, the last of which was the same for everyone – the link to the place where lunch was scheduled – it was the Green Cardamom team led by Ibotombi Singh that had emerged the clear winner. As the rest of the teams trooped in slowly, signs of the gruelling challenge showing on their faces, a large container of Biryani was brought in to be plated. Both relief and satisfaction lined everyone’s face. And based on the responses we got to a review questionnaire after the trip, this meal was rated as the best – not just because it was simply outstanding but because the treasure hunt had made sure everyone was hungry enough to love each and every bit of the lunch.

Indebo Staff at Kathakali performance

That evening, at Casino hotel, all the ladies were handed saris and the men were given mundus – both traditional pieces of Malayali clothing which was also our own dress code for the Kathakali performance scheduled at Fort Kochin at night. The expected unease with such traditional clothing from people mostly used to western formal wear was nowhere to be seen – everyone seemed to be in the mood for challenges and they pulled the garments off in style. Their grace took our hosts completely by surprise – at the Kathakali auditorium, the manager actually asked how many of us were from Kerala itself. He couldn’t believe the answer!

Everyone got a short lesson on make-up art before a Kathakali performance, one of the most crucial ingredients that requires an exceptionally firm and artistic hand. The performance itself was followed by dinner at the Brunton Boatyard – a fabulous place right next to the sea. Given all this activity, we were sincerely hoping the excitement didn’t wear off by the next day – and we were pleasantly surprised.

Everyone seemed ready for another go by breakfast next morning – and this time our destination was Vaikom and Kumarakom. We stopped to take a walk through the large yard and lawns at the famous Sree Mahadeva temple on the way before splitting up into two teams – this time, for sharing time between the activities planned for the day. So while one group went off to learn about coir making and coconut processing, the other got canoe rides through the backwaters, taking notes on fishing and toddy-tapping. A couple of hours later, the groups switched amidst excited conversations about tasting local toddy and shopping for coir handicrafts.

Lunch was scheduled at the village residence of one of Indebo’s oldest associates in Kerala – the meal, served on banana leaves, included all kinds of Malayali delicacies, topped off with generous portions of banana fritters. Needless to say, this meal came a close second on the best meal question in our official review. We spent that night at the beautiful Coconut Lagoon resort, after watching the sunset on the backwaters from the roof of a houseboat on Vembanad Lake. This short cruise got everyone in the mood for more time on the lagoons the following day.

Vembanad Lake is part of a cosy waterway leading to Muhama – so we set off next morning on a luxurious houseboat along the waterway. The smell of spices floated off from the villages lining the waterway and we had cheerful exchanges with school kids on holiday who were lazing by the banks – in India, curious travellers always give kids a reason to share a joke or two, followed by splits of uncontrollable giggles!

Serene Lands of Alleppey

By early afternoon, we had finished off a sumptuous meal on the houseboat and landed near Alleppey. Since the evening was free, many took off to shop immediately – from banana chips, sarees, trinkets and nuts to the conspicuously huge umbrellas and school bags, everyone had an interesting selection of purchases. The bout of shopaholism soon gave way to beach chairs at Marari beach resort – a luxury that no one had in the last two days.

Before dinner, we had scheduled another exceptional performance – Kunchan Nambiyar’s legendary compositions as an Ottam Thullal. The other two types of the Thullal are the Seethankan Thullal and Parayan Thullal. While most didn’t understand the Malayalam poetry, the element of satire and ridicule was lost on none – Nambiyar’s excellence as a popular poet revealed itself through the performance as the fourth wall was made to seem like a nonexistent category – the dancer made different parts of the whole auditorium a prop to his art. From the intermittent swearing and the lyrical exposition, there was everything that Ottam Thullal is known for. Such was the energy in the performance that even the audience’s laughter became an accessory for the dancer on various occasions. Memorable wouldn’t even begin to describe the evening – no one could stop talking about it even after dinner.

Next morning was our last day in Kerala. So we decided to pick up bicycles and ride through the famous fishing villages near Mararikulam. Those who weren’t bicycle enthusiasts decided to either laze by the swimming pool or take a wonderful Heritage Walk. This heritage walk was organised by the Ladies’ Wing of the local chapter of the Lion’s Club. Under the banner of ‘Preserve Alleppey’, Mrs. Rani John works with other members to archive and preserve the oldest buildings in the town and promote cleaner streets and neighbourhoods. The Walk included both small and big aspects of the town – from coir-making units and churches to heritage buildings made from stone imported from Surat in Gujarat during the heyday of Gujarati mercantilism in the region.

By the evening, we had even managed to find people enthusiastic for a yoga session with a well known yoga practitioner – the whole day seemed to be about rejuvenation. But our excitement was yet to come undone – there were still some plans left to be unpacked. Mr. Verghese, the Administrative head at our office in Delhi was given a birthday party that took him completely by surprise! While he was summoned by our Managing Director under the pretext of official work, our office team put together a lavish party, complete with party hats and masks – leaving Mr. Verghese to find himself in the middle of a surprise carnival in his honour. The party was also an occasion to give away awards to the team that won our crazy Amazing Race which was then followed up with yet another surprise! Most people felt that it was unfair that Rajesh had to be away on this staff trip on the day of his wedding anniversary – dedicated that he is to his work; we figured it would be momentous if we celebrated his anniversary with him! Rajesh couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw what everyone had got him – a model replica of a famous houseboat with white sails from the workshops along the backwaters in Alleppey.

The drive to the airport at Cochin next morning was a sleepy one. High and dry after the previous night, there were a lot of good dreams to have in the days to come. Such is the nature of the travel bug – it leaves for a while, only to return again with something more novel than the last time.

Masks - The one and the other

Masks often carry the same function as that of the stage – a plane of space where one can feel as if they were someone or something else. The deep inter-linkages between the role of masks and the place of the stage manifest themselves everywhere. Masks become a metaphor for something that need not even be human – sometimes it could be a superhuman deity while at other times, it could be an animal in the wild. Masks allow that degree of freedom to don one identity over another and tell the tales that regale, horrify and sensitise. Masks are indeed inseparable from the stage – performance is what binds them through disparate cultures and modes of socialisation.

We write in this article about the kinds of masks that play specific cultural roles in different parts of southern Asia. How these masks are made, what they signify and what becomes of them – these are the kinds of questions any empathetic traveller would seek to ask when they encounter such a plethora of masked performances. Here is how we looked through some of them.

The cold nights in Ladakh never impede its famous mask craftsmen – they craft some of the most exquisite masks for annual mask dancing events. One such event that draws huge crowds is the Tsechu of the Drukpa Buddhists – a celebration of the spread of Tibetan Budhhism in other areas such as Leh and Bhutan. While most are annual festivals, the Hemis Tsechu at the Hemis monastery takes place once in twelve years and finds itself a host to vast gatherings of devotees who come to see the dances in order to gain their share of holy blessings. The commemoration of the Padmasambhava who is considered by these sects to be almost as divine as the Buddha is the running theme of these celebrations – the dances depict scenes from his life which range from his birth to his conquests of previously existing devils which enable the spread of his form of Buddhism.

Referred to as the Charm dances, these dance performances have most monks playing demons while the wrathful Guru Rimpoche vanquishes them after duels which are choreographed with great sense of detail. The themes of these dances are an act of memory – to remember the feats of the Guru Rimpoche is an exercise in cementing his authority in Buddhist thought, given the several philosophical and factional tensions within south Asian Buddhist streams. The same articulations of dances with corresponding narratives line the celebrations of Buddhist festivals in Bhutan. Mask makers in Bhutan, right from the valley of Ha, believe in their own act of devotion as that being a supreme one – that they give the face, literally and metaphorically, to the dance form. To labour on the creation of the masks is an act of devotion that is considered a service that brings more blessing than just being mere spectators of these elaborate performances.

Another such instance of intricate mask craft is the Theyyam – a cult of worshippers concentrated along Wayanad, Kannur and Kozhikode districts of Kerala. The Theyyam cult is fascinating in its own right for several reasons – the most important of which is the constructive presence of non-Brahminic and non-Vedic forms of deity worship. The larger chunk of work during ritual processions or regular acts of worship is performed by either lower or middle caste devotees – this makes the institution a unique site of contestation for different forms of power relations. Something that is most crucial to the Theyyam cult is the role of the mask in its ritualised forms of worship – the mask is intended at exhibiting that which is transitional, or indeed, metamorphic. The dance routine begins with decorations of the face using paint that reflects upon the character that the dancer is portraying – colours match aptitudes of the mythical character itself. This segment of a routine that is often close to or more than 12 hours long is called the Vellattam. Transitioning into the next segment, an ornate head-dress is added to the dancer’s performance – this produces an effect of balance between the bodily movements of the dancer and the intended message of the act, since the head-dress is an even more qualified signifier of the nature of the narrative at hand. Balance is even more evident when one sees the movements of the head being co-ordinated with those of the arms – either one of which hold the sword and the shield. Often masks are changed or added while the devotees respond to this open air performance – stories mostly follow standard scripts that have little use of words but pronounce heavily with the use of percussion and other musical instruments. Stories of Theyyam dance performances have characters that number in hundreds – each with a distinct role and distinct relation to some shrine or deity within the Theyyam cult. While many performances happen for popular audiences as Theyyam is not originally rooted in exclusivist forms of temple worship, there is also a certain kind of centrality given to the local shrine in some groups of Theyyam practitioners.

By the final segment of these performances, the face practically looks like a mask in its own right, given the intricate paint-work. There are dancers who also use an entire mask along with the head-dress. While the former allows for a different play on expressions and facial modulations, the latter gives the dancer the ability to focus more on the sword or shield or other props which makes the dance more animated and expressive in a language of its own. One of Theyyam’s most popular narratives is that of a deity, the Sree Mutthappan Maddapura, demanding drink, or at least some form of intoxicant liquor, as part of the offering – this becomes yet another trope for the articulation of popular religion. One of the larger cosmologies that such narratives are a part of is that of the devotee’s need – given the poverty of devotees, it is argued, that offerings of milk, honey and other such things became less feasible, as a result of which, it was the betel nut, the betel leaf, the cannabis leaf or sometimes even drink, that made up for offerings.

One other tremendously enriching art of mask-making finds its home in the old island town of Majuli, sleepily settled within the course of the Brahmaputra. Hailed within monotheistic branches of Hinduism for its Vaishnav culture and its satras, which can be broadly described as monasteries, this island has preserved its craft for centuries. The craft we’re most interested in, here, is practised specifically by some satras, led by their satradhikaris, while others excel in wood-crafts and weaving crafts. Take the instance of the premises of the Shamaguri Satra, where mask-makers work more than 6 hours a day to produce masks of various sizes using cloth, bamboo and clay which are either used for dance performances during Raas festivals, which celebrate Krishna’s life and myths around his character, or sent to Jorhat or Guwahati – centres for exporting these delicate masks. Recently, mask makers have begun making masks to tailor-made sizes depending upon the market they are exporting to.

Most of the masks represent characters directly from the stories of Krishna’s life and that of the different avatars of Vishnu. But since the mukh bhaavanas festivities are the largest but a limited forum for the exposition of these masks, and exports don’t draw in enough for the craftsmen, the mask-makers of Majuli are not very optimistic about their craft. The story is quite the same with other craftsmen on the island – they claim to live in the same hues as the oil paints that their masks are dyed in but reality is starker still. While the government tries to bring Majuli out into a broader audience, it is really up to keen travellers to make sense of what Majuli is about.

In the theme of mask-craft itself, there are many interesting stories to tell. We’ll leave you to tell some of your own.

The ethos of faith in Kerala

Religious life in Kerala is a powerful social force that works out in different equations and dominates most daily affairs, both in the rural countryside as well as the urban bustle. Amongst other things, it helps organise the voices of the multitudes while acting as a restraining presence which makes the role of the religious ethos an extremely complex one. Hence, travelling in Kerala implies within it a subtle negotiation with its many religious norms and practices while at the same time being circumscribed by the architectural beauty and representations of its religious edifices, which is a story that is broadly similar but also hugely different from other parts of the country. We bring you to Kerala in this piece because we believe that the co-existing set of faith systems and religious order forms a backbone to society that is most unique in India – this is perhaps most attributable to the density of the geography of the state and the nature of the competing interests of different strands of religious order.

Hinduism in Kerala flourishes amongst a large part of the population. While orthodox religious life is dominated by upper castes such as the Namboodiri Brahmins, the expansion of several Nair castes and Izhava castes shows the fluidity of Hindu thought. A lot of Theyyam devotees belong to either the Ezhava castes or to previously untouchable outcaste communities, thus lending the Theyyam cult a sense of mass popularity. Namboodiri Brahmins have historically cemented their social location as authorities on texts and religious rites and forms of worship – it is the formal Malayalam language today that bears the signs of Sankritised influences of the Namboodiri Brahmins. However, it is the many Nair sub castes that are of most interest to anyone interested in travelling in Kerala in order to understand its sociological undergrowth.

While some Nair castes (as well as some Ezhava castes) have been famously known to practice matrilineal forms of social organisation, called the marumakkathayam, where the husband has historically come to reside at the parental home of the wife and property has been passed downwards between women of successive generations, there are other sub-castes who have historically practised polygamy as well as strategic exercises in hypergamy – marrying into higher castes like the Namboodiris  in order to establish a significant social partnership as well as rise up the caste hierarchy. While this speaks volumes about the flexible nature of caste hierarchies in southern Asia, it also shows the ways in which the systemic logic of caste Hinduism proliferates. Social life and social spaces are mostly affected by such forms of sociological relations – where questions of gender and language become as prominent as the more everyday questions of movement and mobility.

Historians have been at pain to write the complicated histories of these communities for years now and recent scholarship has shed light on these and many other historical as well as contemporary realities. The Ambalavasis are one of the crucial examples of Nair castes which practice many of the carefully planned religious rituals and follow their own specific rules of social cohabitation.

Forms of direct manual labour such as toddy-tapping, weaving, farm labour and ship-making have been predominant occupations of the Ezhava castes. While their numbers have been large, they have had little role to play in the mainstream cultural formations of Malayali society. The reasons being obviously caste-marked, it is also important to mention that one of the most historic anti-caste struggles in Kerala was led by the Ezhavas – an event widely known as the Vaikom Satyagraha, which brought out the social segregation of spaces along caste lines as an issue and mobilised thousands against the ban on temple entry for Ezhavas and other low castes like the Pualayas.

One of the most prominent cultural roles the Ezhavas took up over time was the mastery of the kallari payyattu, the dance-like martial art form which draws thousands of visitors to every performance. However, it is during the fraught years of colonial rule that many from the Ezhava fold decided to convert to Christianity as a method of escaping the hierarchies of the Hindu caste order – the move meant a strong growth of Christianity in the hinterland of Kerala, although it is a pertinent question in contemporary times that caste has pervaded Christian religious practice as well and many lower castes are not considered fair equals within Malayali Christian societies.

The largest space after dominant Hindu religious orders is that of Islam. More than ten centuries of trade between Arabs and Malayali peoples has significantly aided the growth of Sunni Islam in Kerala, which in turn spawned new linguistic designs among those who attained a grasp of Persian along with Malayalam. Changes in the forms of language is common to every other district across the modern territory of India – however, in Kerala, the distinct influence of Persian makes its presence felt like no other place. While Muslims can also be socially understood to be following caste-marked patterns of interaction, the nature and the depth is yet to be discussed in detail in the works of modern historians and sociologists. Mappila muslims in Kerala are mostly involved in fishing and other small industrial activity. One of the most interesting things to watch is a Mappila wedding where the bridesmaids perform singular dance acts for the pleasure of the bride, which is commonly referred to as the Oppana.

Syrian Christians form another demographic community in Kerala. Followers of St. Thomas in terms of the lineage they trace, these communities found deeper roots with the blossoming of trade relations with the Portuguese traders in the Indian Ocean over the last five centuries. The famous church at Santa Cruz and other such landmarks around the state help organise the Christian community – these are also aided by the welfare work of the church and mission education. The profoundly Catholic faith system, gravitating around the symbology of St. Thomas’ Cross today, has distinct resemblances with its Semitic roots – the act of Baptism continues to carry its Aramaic name (mamodisa). While the Jewish influence was curbed significantly by Portuguese orthodoxy, it also holds true that the long history of the Assyrian culture was bound to sustain itself for longer. It is a pity nonetheless that most of the Jewish people of Kerala migrated to Israel in the last century, only to lead lives at the fringes of mainstream white Jewish society. They left behind a history of division based on colour – the older white Paradesi Jews refused to cohabit with those who were gradually converting – the dark-skinned Malabari Jews. However, the Paradesi Synagogue remains the oldest synagogue in this part of the world in a sober reality where the Jewish community in Kerala faces practical extinction.

While travelling in Kerala, one can also see forms of Jain religious organisation and other smaller faith systems as well. However, what is important for any well-meaning traveller is the sheer concentration of different faith systems across the landscapes, which vie with each other for sustenance and yet coexist in order to shape the everyday of Malayali society. All along the subcontinent, there are different religious mores but it is in Kerala where the density and the compactness of such life is most visible. It is meant to be both educative as well as thrilling for a visitor as he or she travels through the region – witnessing the myriad ways in which the public sphere is influenced by religious thought and faith systems. What may seem superficially suffocating and looming is perhaps what is most interesting about Kerala – its ethos of faiths.

5 Decades of Celestial Singing

His beard and his sharp eyes add a certain effect to the aura and the depth of his music – K J Yesudas is perhaps one of the tallest classical singers in the country. The value of his accolades and his work can hardly be estimated but if numbers are any indication in his fiftieth year as a recorded singer, then he’s come a very long way – his cabinet at home holds seven National Awards and forty three State Awards from Kerala, Andhra Pradesh, Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and West Bengal for playback singing. Add to that, honorary doctorates from three reputed universities in Kerala and Tamil Nadu and a Padma Bhushan for his contribution to music – that includes more than fifty thousand recorded singles and a vibrant recording studio in Trivandrum and Chennai. 

K J Yesudas

In his early music career, he was known as the voice of Prem Nazir in Malayalam cinema but that changed soon after he released his own albums of classical and devotional music. His renditions of chants ring out through speaker phones at several temples in southern India. On several occasions, he has taken trips across the country to popularise his form of devotional music, influenced strongly by his training in Carnatic classical music. Krishna nee Begane Baro and other classics like the Harivarsanam Mangalam are often the opening tracks at any devotional music gathering in Trivandrum or Chennai.

He was part of collaborations with other famous musicians like Salil Chowdhury and Khayyam. In most of the twenty six Malayali films that Salil Chowdhury directed music for, Yesudas was asked to sing. This, for many, is perhaps Malayalam cinema’s most last partnership in terms of the kind of music that was produced.

In Hindi cinema, his songs from Chitchor (Jab deep jale aana and Gori tera gaon bada pyaara got him the national award the same year) made him a runaway hit before he went on to sing for several other famous productions. Bengalis remember his song on Vivekananda - Nahi shurjyo nahi jyoti – as they had flocked to see his open air performances during his Kolkata tours. His five decades as a professional singer have been a source of great affect for many. He responded to these sentiments by producing music as well as singing for several initiatives for musical collaborations that preached peace and communal harmony. We wish him several more years of great music and even greater warmth from his admirers.

The black waters of Kerala

trade on the backwaters

Kerala’s geography is nothing like the other coastal stretches of the peninsula it is a part of. The expanse of the ocean is somewhat counter posed with the inlands canals in a manner such that living next to expansive water bodies means different things at different locations across Kerala. The experience of the backwaters that lead on to the ocean along with the occasional lake such as the Ashtamudi Lake within the inner canal networks are very distinct from the experience of the average Malayali person with the Indian Ocean or the Arabian Sea. 

This distinction, which is the root of the uniqueness of the backwaters in the first place, has made its way into the heart of the tourism discussion in South Asia in a massive way in the last fifteen years. Floating in a closeted world of palm trees seems to have caught the fancy of such a vivid imagination that the backwaters of Kerala soon replaced Kerala’s religious sites as the central focus of tourism policy in the state. But it is time to rethink where Kerala stands today. 

A traditional Kettuvalam

The backwaters, or perhaps, ‘black’ waters are facing the crucial problem of overuse and over-exploitation. The traditional kettuvellams, or the rice barges which doubled up as houseboats were the object of attention of a smaller travelling population two decades ago. These houseboats catered to an inquisitive travelling gaze. Such travellers found the beauty of assimilation within the fishing and farming environment of the backwaters. This healthy exchange found expression in the numerous photography and travel books that published that face of Kerala. Visitors to the backwaters treasured its singular qualities and found it to be a place that could be discovered with thrill. 

But two decades down the line, the commodification of the backwaters seems complete. Ever since its potential was calculated in exponentially monetary terms, Allapuzha and Kottayam’s appeal has been significantly transformed. It now caters to the thrifty urban consumer of tourism as opposed to the patient and empathetic travellers’ market. 

A conference houseboat

Kollam’s waterways are populated by numerous massive houseboats, fitted with inverters and air conditioners, refrigerators and a conspicuous lack of dustbins. Specific attractions include “conference houseboats” for corporate houses which are hired for a day or two which simply defies any understanding of the separation of work routines and leisure breaks in our corporatized and ecologically sensitive world. It appears that corporate routines and executive leadership programmes have found appeal not in the traditional glass cubes but in the silent green cocoon of the backwaters. This has led to a complete distortion in the idea of what the backwaters are and were meant to be. 

An identifiable dispassionate outlook towards the ecology of the backwaters is visible in many houseboats, as one sails along past the Ashtamudi Lake. The regular story of junk food wrappers and organic waste ruining the natural scenery is repeating itself everyday in these canals. They are not far from the madding crowd anymore. 

A day in the life of...

It seems that the arrogant crowd has caught on to it and feels no remorse in making it another one of its use-and-throw “destinations”. What does this mean for the inhabitants of the backwaters then? A few conversations with men and women of the fishing villages and the inner hamlets will tell you how tourist-averse the sentiment now is. The visitor is no longer seen with curiosity and hospitable attitudes anymore. What is mechanically dished out is everything the upwardly mobile and well-to-do tourist demands. Travelling has become a mere object of economic exchange in Alappuzha and Kottayam. 

Away from the heavy motors of the luxurious houseboats, the escape is perhaps to be sought in the lesser known sections of the backwaters. Empathy with the natural beauty of any location and the emotional value that it holds for any traveller needs to be rediscovered in the less populated stretches of the backwaters. The blue-green waters beyond Ashtamudi Lake that is off the beaten track between Kollam and Alappuzha, which encircle the coir and paddy villages are perhaps one such option. Or the serene tract behind Munroe Island on the Kallada River, otherwise famous for its annual boat races but much less populated with houseboat traffic during the rest of the season makes for another good option.

A traditional snake boat race

These boat race locations which see huge numbers of visitors and participants during the race days are really the places to be even in non-race season. The beauty of the Pampa River needs rediscovering away from its fame as the site of Uthrattathi boat race, as home to many varieties of flora and a preferred location of bird photography. Aranmula, tucked away from the swarm of houseboats is one such place on the Pampa that would excite any humble visitor to Kerala. It is home to several elegant religious temples and a famous palace. 

For those with short vacation time who want to find the same tranquillity and uniqueness that the ‘mainstream’ of the backwaters have lost, staying away from the Krishnapuram and Ambalapuzha temples in Allapuzha may be a wise option, given that their popularity as religious centres as well as their promotion through the cut-and-dried tourism packages has led to clogged waterways which are simply dangerous to the ecological balance of the region. 

Let the smile not be on the endangered species list

Convenient disposal of organic and inorganic waste by big houseboats has caught some attention with State and local authorities and one hopes, for the sake of the exceptional beauty of Kerala, that it is met with strict regulation soon. Or else, the arrogant demanding tourist will trump once again over an empathetic and inquisitive traveller. It is essential to acknowledge that while Kerala’s backwaters need strict preservation, the same could also be said of the good ethics of travelling.

The markets of Eastern Venice

Fishing in the backwaters. Image courtesy: Tony de Connick

The district of Alappuzha is home to some who have made seminal contributions but are hardly ever remembered or discussed by generations today. Shankar, creator of the famous Shankar’s Weekly and most well known as India’s foremost political cartoonist was born and raised here. Today, many are aware of the Shankar’s Doll Museum in Delhi or the Children’s Book Trust which were his own projects but Alappuzha as his home district is hardly ever discussed in wider public spheres. Take another instance – Vayalar Rama Varma, who wrote the most expansive volumes of modern poetry and lyrics in the Malayalam language and voiced the genuine grievances of the peasantry and the poorer populace in Kerala. Numerous felicitations and honours later, his legacy and the surroundings within which he grew up to challenge the dominant public discourse in Kerala, is hardly a signifier of Alappuzha’s identity. 

On the contrary, it is through the lens of Lord Curzon, infamous for his role in famine relief during the tragic famine at the turn of the twentieth century as well as his role in the partition of Bengal in 1905 that Alappuzha refers to its own identity and significance today. The district’s official website for governance proudly cites Curzon’s description of, what was named Alleppey by the British, as the “Venice of the East”. Many other websites on Alappuzha follow suit and the metaphor of Venetian prosperity perpetuates itself. But the district has a lot more than what this metaphor can capture and nothing short of a visit to its lagoons, waterways and markets can give an accurate description. The district has its own flavours and its own delights for the traveller. Mostly known for its coir-making units and the large fishing villages that have existed for centuries now, this district and its central towns also pack together culinary specialities of prawn as well as a vibrant spice economy. 

The streets of Alappuzha

The markets of Alappuzha are busy spots of trade, exchange and other forms of socialisation. Coir’s importance in the region is evident from the National Coir Training and Designing Centre and the famous Coir Research Institute in the district. A visit to these places can provide valuable information into the lives and livelihoods of the thousands of families dependent on coir production in the district. The district’s backwaters serve as key elements in the transport of the green coconut husk to strategically located coir units and workshops. Spinning coir is often also done domestically by household-based units which then supply it to larger units making finished products. Support prices and other government aid has helped the coir industry grow significantly but at the same time, the recent migration of coir processing units to neighbouring Tamil Nadu could be worrying signs for the Alappuzha economy.

While coir gets its name from the Malayalam word for green coconut husk and duly so, there are specific commodities that markets across Alappuzha are well known for. The spice markets are one such example. Given the massive output of rice from the district, and specifically Kuttanad, every year, the spice production as well as import keeps the culinary balance in good place. Green pepper, Black pepper, cumin, ginger, cardamom and turmeric line the spice markets which have a longstanding significance in the history of global spice trade. Since Chera rule, Allapuzzha is believed and recorded as having been a crucial spice port on the western coast of the Deccan with strong flows of exchange across the Indian Ocean. For any visitor to the district today, the historical significance of its location and its crucial service as a port town should be of great interest. 

Black pepper in Aleppey

In recent times however, the spice market has slowly shifted focus towards the production of spice-based oils and oleoresins. Black pepper oil and ginger essence are two of the most widely available local spice-based oils. Rama Varma, reigning as the Prince of Travancore in the late nineteenth century, was one of the important reasons for the organisation of the spice trade. He firmly believed in the ideas of ‘modernisation’ of the original head of the Travancore kingdom, Marthanda Varma. He made financial and commercial organisation crucial to the spice trade and established legal norms to the functioning of the spice market which helped in sustaining the strength of the spice economy as a whole. Culinary practices with seafood and the corollary market for prawns and shrimps also find growing space from the end of the nineteenth century.

Other specific economic units include the growing umbrella manufacturing units with the brands John’s and Joji’s becoming runaway successes in the whole southern belt for producing strong and sturdy affordable umbrellas that have made Alappuzha a big export hub for the commodity. Umbrellas are a key part of the average Malayali person’s attire given the tropical weather and the frequent changes between hot and rainy weather.

Of coconuts and backwaters in Aleppey

All these markets and their internal economies are connected through the canals and rivers of the district which provide the visitor to Kerala with a unique co-dependent mash of the ‘natural’ linkages and the socially created ones. But sadly, noticeable natural phenomena in the backwaters are also an important cause for concern. Massive growth of water hyacinths along many canals indicates the gradual stagnation of the water in the canals, the reasons for which are yet to be identified. Such stagnated water could potentially be very harmful for the rural populace living around the canals as the dangers of water borne diseases like cholera would increase. Interestingly however, the stalk of the stronger Hyacinths found in Thailand are used by the local crafts industry for production of portable furniture and this is still one other creative economic opportunity yet to be explored in those incredibly unique backwaters of Alappuzha.

The real meaning of Nirvana - culinary traditions of India

A simple meal

India cannot be defined by one particular cuisine. Influenced by geographical diversity, the cuisine is quite diverse as well. Most of the Indian cuisine has been influenced by the availability of water. As a result, in the coastal areas, you would find the presence of quite a few light soups and rice recipes. On the other hand, in the deserts, due to the unavailability of water and thus the shortage of fresh  vegetables, the cuisine is predominantly dry and dotted by a variety of pickles and preserves. A journey on these lines provides for an incredible experience.

Considering the diversity of Indian cuisines, it is quite difficult to describe all aspects of the same. This article attempts to describe some of the highlights and the most famous of Indian cuisine. We explore the roots, the spices used and the difference between the cuisines. For the last 30 years, INDEBO (www.indebo.com) has been instrumental in providing such experiences to travellers regularily.

Breads from an indigenous bakery

Through this article we would explore some of the biggest celebrities of the North (Punjabi), the West (Gujarati cuisine), the South (cuisine from the backwaters of Kerala) and the East (fish curries and sweets from West Bengal). This article does intend to stir up the appetite as well.

Punjabi food: Possibly the most famous Punjabi contribution to Indian food is the tandoori style of cooking. This method uses large earthen ovens that are heated to high temperatures using coal fires. Once hot, many types of meat, bread, or vegetable dishes may be cooked inside. This method gives food a distinctive flavour and seals in the aroma of the item.

Many people in Punjab eat meat. Thus, the state has developed many chicken and lamb delicacies that are coated in spicy onion and mustard or sweet cream sauces. This is thought to be an influence of the Mughals during their time in India. Milk products such as yoghurt lassis and fresh cheeses are also an important part of Punjabi diet, as are pulses and wheat.

Gujarati food: Gujarati food is mainly vegetarian. The staple grain of the area is millet, with wheat as a secondary grain. Other products include peanuts, sesame, and many types of vegetables. Pulses are very important in this region as a source of protein, whether as a side dish or made into soups called “Dal”, as the majority of the population is vegetarian.

A Gujarati thali

Gujarati food is usually served as a “thali” meal, meaning that all items are served once on a large plate. A traditional thali includes two vegetables cooked with spices, dal, a flatbread (roti), rice and a sweet. There are also simple meals of mild rice and lentils known as “khichdi”, served with a lightly spiced buttermilk or yoghurt soup called “kadhi”.

Malayali food: In Kerala, food is traditionally served on a large banana leaf. Even today, this method is prevalent for feasts. The staple food of Southern India is rice. Different preparations of the grain may even be eaten for breakfast. The other staple is coconut. Coconut is made into chutney, served as a refreshing desert, and incorporated into vegetable or fish dishes as a flavour. This often gives the food a surprising taste that is a mix of sweet and spicy.

Bengali food: Bengal is known for its fish and its sweets. Located on the Eastern coast of India, fish has long been a staple of Bengali diet. It may be sauted in yoghurt or marinated in Bengal's famous spice mixture. This region uses 5 basic spices, known collectively as “pachphoron”. They are anseed, cumin seeds, black cumin seeds, mustard and fenugreek. Mustart plays a huge role in Bengali food. Mustard is mashed and used as a gravy for a special type of fish called Hilsa. Mustard oil is also used extensively in Bengali food.

Fairs & Festivals of India

Monks at the Thiksey Tsechu in Ladakh

India is indeed a land of Festivals. Indian festivals boast of India's rich cultural and traditional background. There are end number of festivals which are celebrated in this amazing land. The festivals in India may differ in their celebration and rituals but the commonality in all the celebrations is that it celebrates humanity. They represent the diversity of culture on one hand and unity of India on another hand.

Some of the common rituals, which are followed in most of the festivals, are processions in the streets, decoration of homes and sacred places and traditional and folk song and dance performances. Most religious festivals have elaborate prayers, traditions, customs and rituals attached to them.

Color generally seen at a fair

India is known as a land of many religions and innumerable languages, it might well be described as a land of many festivals as well. There is perhaps not a single day in the Indian calendar when a festival or a fair is not celebrated. Bright colors, brightly lit religious places, decorated houses, sweets and traditional dresses and dances and unwavering enthusiasm are the characteristics of all the festival holidays in India. If someone wants to see the deep roots of the culture, belief, life style, living, food, art, traditions of India, the fair and festivals are the window to view the true colour of India. There are festivals for all occasions which include color festivals, festivals to celebrate change of seasons, festivals connected with the harvesting or sowing of crops etc. Even the birthdays of divine beings are celebrated by connecting them with particular festivals. Indian festivals are celebrated according to the solar and lunar calendars. Consequently, dates & months may vary accordingly.

A Few important festivals of India

Mopin (Arunachal Pradesh)
Mopin is the most important festival of the Gallong community of the Adi Tribes of Arunachal Pradesh. Mopin across Arunachal Pradesh is celebrated for five days in the month of April. It is celebrated prior to the sowing of the paddy.

People worship the deity of welfare in order to get rid of natural calamities, evil spirits and for good harvest, health and prosperity. During this festival, smearing rice powder on each other’s faces marks the beginning of the festival. One other feature of the Mopin festival is a dance known as Popir which is performed in a very elegant manner.

Bihu (Assam)

A Bihu dancer

It is the most important festival of Assam. It is celebrated with great happiness and enthusiasm and is celebrated by all Assamese irresepective of caste, creed, religion, faith and belief.

The Assamese witness three Bihu festivals in a year. Each Bihu coincides with a distinctive phase in the farming calendar. For example, Rongali Bihu marks the beginning of sowing of seeds, the Kati Bihu marks the completion of sowing and transplantation of the saplings and finally Magh Bihu marks the advent of the harvest period. The three are connected with the spring, winter and autumn seasons respectively.

Bali Yatra (Odisha)
To commemorate the glorious past of commercial voyages to the islands of Bali, Java and Sumatra by Oriya traders, a big fair called ‘Bali Yatra’ is held on Mahanadi river bank at Cuttack on the full moon day of the Hindu month of Kartik.

Kartik Purnima was considered the most auspicious day by traders to venture on a journey to distant lands. To mark the occasion; small boats made of cork, coloured paper and banana tree barks are set afloat on the Mahandi river. The Bali Yatra bears testimony to the rich maritime legacy of ancient Orissa. It is also known as Boita Bandana Utsav, or the "festival of boats".

Man and his best friend at the Pushkar festival

Pushkar (Rajasthan)
Held each November at the time of of Karthik Poornima (full moon), the Pushkar Camel Fair is one of the largest cattle fairs in India. During the fair, millions from rural Rajasthan flock to Pushkar, along with camel and cattle for several days of livestock trading, horse dealing, pilgrimage and religious festivities.

The camel and cattle trading is at its peak during the first half of festival period. During the latter half, religious activities dominate the scenario. It is an occasion for Hindu pilgrims to converge for a holy dip in the sacred Pushkar Lake to "wash away the sins of a lifetime" and pay obeisance at the ONLY Brahma temple in the world.

Sonepur (Bihar)
The Sonepur cattle fair or Sonepur Mela is held on Kathik Poornima (the full moon day) in the month of November in Sonepur, Bihar, on the confluence of river ganges and Gandak. This fair attracts visitors from all over Asia. It is the biggest cattle fair of Asia and goes on for around one month.

Horses at Sonepur

It is quite an exciting fair as nearly all the animals of different breeds are bought here for sale. Persian Horses, Camels, Guinea Pigs, Dogs, Bears, Cats, Rabbits, Buffaloes, Donkeys, Ponies, Sheep etc are specially brought here for sale and buyers from across the globe come to buy the best of breeds from here. A major attraction is the sight of numerous beautifully decorated Elephants lined up for sale.

Kullu Dussehra (Himachal Pradesh)
Dussehra, symbolising the victory of Rama over Ravana, is celebrated all over India but the Dussehra of Kullu has got its own significance. When Dussehra celebrations come to an end in the rest of the country, they begin in Kullu. Over 600 local deities are brought to pay homage to Lord Raghunath. This is a time when the valley is at its colorful best.

The celebrations continue for a week every year. Dussehra in Kullu commences on the tenth day of the rising moon (the ‘Vijay Dashami’ day) and continues for seven days. On the first day the idol of Raghunathji in a gaily attired chariot and attended by village gods mounted in colourful palanquins, is pulled from its fixed place in the Dhalpur Maidan (open ground) to another spot across the Maidan by big ropes. The pulling of ropes is regarded sacred by the local people. This forms a huge procession. All the gods in the valley visit Kullu during Dussehra in order to pay their homage to Raghunathji.

Elephants at Thrissur Pooram

Thrissur Pooram (Kerala)
Thrissur Pooram, which is known as the "Pooram of all Poorams" or "Festival of all Festivals" is the most awaiting cultural extravaganza in North Kerala.

The festival is celebrated every year during the month of April/May. The sprawling Thekkinkadu maidan located at the heart of the city and encircling the famous Vadakkumnathan Temple is the venue of almost all major events of the Pooram festivals.

The major attraction of this festival is the Elephant procession, which witnesses the participation of elephants from various temples of Kerala. Apart from this splendid procession, other attractions of Thrissur Pooram festival include a spectacular display of colorful fireworks, parasol exchanges, display of pyro-techniques and drup concerts.

Hemis Tsechu ( Ladakh)
The Hemis Tsechu is the largest and most popular monastic festival of ladakh. It is a two day annual festival which is celebrated in the courtyard of hemis monastery. It is celebrated on the 10th day of the Tibetan lunar month. The main purpose of this festival is to commemorate the birth anniversary of Saint Padmasambhava, the patron saint of Tibetan Buddhism and the one who brought Buddhism from India to Tibet. During these two days festivals, the resident Lamas perform sacred masked dances in the courtyard of the Monastery.