It so happened that quite a few of my relatives, to whom I hadn't spoken for months, suddenly wanted to see me, a final glance before I shipped off to college 708kms away. Generally reluctant to tear myself off from the computer and the television, I put off the visit for quite some time until the final weekend of my long holidays. Forced by circumstances beyond my control, a three day itinerary was planned and I set off.
First stop: Trichur. This place is also known as Thrissur. This city hosts the well-known coaching centre run by a certain Mr. P.C Thomas which used to be all the rage among those engineering and medicine aspirants and still is somewhat of a rage. Competitiors have cut into their business, but the going is still good. It is in this abode of learning (also referred to as 'prison house') that my dear sister pursues her ambition to be a doctor or paramedic or just anybody in a white coat and stethescope hanging from the neck.
Trichur is a delightful place. It is a small city, may be only slightly smaller than Trivandrum. But its charm lies in the fact that it is infinitely more friendly and welcoming than many other places I have been to in Kerala. Their delightful accents, lavish smiles and grins and a generally happy outlook on life make interacting with the very few people I interact with, a pleasure. One yardstick I have to judge a city is how the auto drivers behave. Auto drivers in Trichur are a more chatty lot than those in Trivandrum and Cochin and effuse a warmth and glow that is hard to find elsewhere. Their chatter is not intrusive and neither is it cocky garbage. They somehow engage their travellers in friendly small talk which, like the Thai Airways, is smooth as silk. If someone told me Dale Carnegie had conducted an extensive lecture tour in Trichur ages ago, I would not be surprised. Most importantly, when the meter shows Rs.18 at the end of a journey, the Trichur auto driver charges you exactly Rs.18, unlike the Trivandrum driver who charges you Rs.25, the Cochin driver who charges you Rs.27 and very much unlike the Chennai driver who may not have a running meter but charges you Rs.70 anyway.
Trichur leaves you in no doubt as to which state you are in at the moment (of India that is. Not solid, liquid etc.)- a few red flags on various posts interrupted by tricolours sans the ashoka chakra, prominently placed and extremely busy Beverages Corporation stores and an unfinished flyover. A six month old retard of a kid could tell you that you are in Kerala (soon to be, Flying Spaghetti Monster forbid, Keralam). The former and the latter sights especially show how the city has managed to progress into the future (or at least the present) while ensuring that its past is safe and intact.
Interestingly, Trichur has many good shops, well lit and swanky, that provide some great shopping experiences. They are convenient, well-stocked and generally caters to all sections of the society.
Now to the most important point. Chicks. Next time you are left with just your bottom fifty paise, I advice you to invest that in a wager with some goof convincing the goof to bet against the hotness quotient of the female population of the city. If you would take my word on anything, take it on this. They are smokin'.
There ended my trip to Trichur. In hindsight, especially in the light emanated by some hot stuff in the city, it was a great trip.
There is more to my trip, but I must be off now. Or hell reigns.