On the road- Ernakulam

Ok, First things first. This place I went to is around 40 or 50 kilometers away from Cochin or Ernakulam town. By Ernakulam, I mean just the Ernakulam district. The vast number of villages, hamlets and towns are the stuff under discussion when I say Ernakulam.

Now that we have got past that formalities, lets get down straight to the brass tacks.

As some of you may know, I was in Trichur for a day before I decided to shift ho and move a wee bit down south. Somewhere in the district of Ernakulam lies a small village and in that my Dad's place. It is one of those quintessential villages that one reads about- cut off from much of the world, dense expanse of greenery all around the place, small houses dotting the landscape, tea shops scattered around the area and generally giving off an old world charm.

It is a tough job to be able to get to the place, one having to grace a train and at least three buses to set foot in the village. Armed with the awesomely funny Stephen Fry, I set about to tackle this dangerous and tough task. I do not remember much about the train except for the fact that the mirth and jolly nature I was prone to exhibit courtesy Mr. Fry was not at all well received. I could sense a strong desire among my co-passengers to write to Ms. Banerjee about it.

I got off at the Alwaye railway station, a small but busy station which somehow seems to recite to one Longfellow's poem "A Psalm of Life". The walls seem to shout out "Life is real, Life is earnest And the grave is not its goal". Buses were boarded on and the familiar sights of the district drunk in as the miles were eaten up. In less than an hour I was a mere 10 kilometers from my destination, looking for a bus that would finally take me there.

After hunting around for anything with wheels that would go anywhere near where I wanted to be, I finally found a bus which actually had my destination printed on the board near the windshield. Surprise! Too good to be true, thought I, a thought I would regret later. I boarded the bus heartily, joyous at having a bus that could take me to my destination in one piece.

I knew the bus ride would be pretty long, so I was content to just gaze out of the window once I had a ticket, continuing to feast on the sights, just ensuring that they were familiar. A latent fear that I may have erred still persisted. Happily proved wrong.

Thirty minutes in to the ride, I reached what can be called a proper village area of the district, the stereotypical signs of a typical village put on show. I was aware that my place was still some miles off so I resumed my feasting/drinking.

Now, the thing about these Kerala villages is that they are so small that it is perfectly possible to trip over one and land on another a few miles apart. This is exactly what I proceeded to do.

Almost an hour after I had boarded the bus, I reached a junction from where it was just a matter of a five minute walk to reach my destination. Some inner voice told me I should do so. However, another inner voice told me "Dude, this bus goes to YOUR place. It may take a longer route, but it will eventually deposit you at the doorstep. Stay on". In the ten seconds that the bus stopped at that junction the two inner voices did the angel and devil on the shoulders act. Even before any conclusion could be arrived at, the bus moved. Now that the former of the inner voice was rendered null by forces outside my control, I had no choice but to retain my seat.

The bus sped on.

Another half an hour later, the population of the bus had dwindled down to three. The bus had not taken any major deviations so far, something I expected it to do since it was supposed to go right till my place. Five minutes. One more person off. By this time, we had moved on to the deepest and darkest corners of the land. Another five minutes. I was the last person on the bus.

The conductor walked up to me and asked where I wanted to go. I provided the needful. "Eh?", he said. I explained my destination in some detail. A wtf expression sparked onto his face. He explained that I was as close to my destination as Edison was to Tesla.

I got off in the middle of nowhere with only my legs to serve as locomotion.

It was nearing seven and there were very few streetlights on the village road. I started walking in a direction I deemed to be right and five minutes alter chanced on to some population. Asking for directions, I continued, repeating the exercise whenever I came across a few fauna.

At last, when it seemed like my legs would go into coma, I reached a junction. I asked some people for the place which hosted my destination. "This is exactly that place", they said.

Fuck. There were two roads, one to the right and one to the left. None seemed familiar, not even in some long forgotten dream. The chances that I would have to retrace my steps if I took either road were roughly equal. Sensing my helplessness, someone asked, "Do you want to go to the church"? It was a lead, a slender one at that. I replied in the affirmative. I was informed that the road to the right led to the place of worship.

With all fortitude I could muster, I took the road to the left.

Ten minutes of walking later, I came upon familiar territory, from where it was child's play to reach my Dad's place. I reached the house drenched, parched and bewildered.

When I hit the road- Trichur

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.