“GIFT IN JESUS” proclaimed the lorry we were tailing as we drove down from Thiruvananthapuram to Kanyakumari. We had ample time to decode this cryptic message since we were moving at a speed that would have shamed a snail. Was the lorry a gift FROM Jesus, or an offering TO Him, or was it a symbol of blessing bestowed by the Lord on the lucky owner?
Disappointing views
Our hotel gave us a clear view of the Rock Temple and the statue of the poet-saint Thiruvalluvar towering beside it. Through the picture-windows we could see the lighter and darker waters of the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal converging, and watch the much touted sunrise without leaving our beds. In the lobby a poster boldly urged, “COME WITH US. SEE MY SORE”. Yuck!
There was more yuck later when we set off to see the sunset. The viewing point was a structure a little off the shore with a concrete path leading to it so we wouldn't have to scramble over the rocks. A great convenience undoubtedly, except that it had become a convenience in another sense. Public defecation seems to be institutionalised here and we had to navigate mounds of turd and dodge hordes of flies, feeling increasingly sickened at every step.
At the foot of the viewing point, touts blocked our way demanding ‘only three rupees per head'. Too disgusted to argue we turned back, found a clean rock to sit on, and were rewarded with a totally insipid sunset, and ditto for the sunrise the following day. To top it all the sea was rough, the ferry wasn't plying, and the magnificent Rock Temple beckoned, tantalising but inaccessible.
Soon we were on our way back to Triv as we called it, with craggy rock faces to our right, the edge of the Western Ghats tapering towards Land's End, the fabled Cape Comorin of old. Crawling along as before we would have sunk into a stupor of boredom if not for the driver's love of filmi music. ‘Excuse me Mr. Kandasaami', the lady crooned, ‘oru long drive something, come with me. Slow-a speed-a something, something…'. Wonderful woman. She was singing specially for us! She offered him coffee. He told her to buzz off, she was Hitler's granddaughter, and sang about ipods and sim cards, followed by a duet, ‘Oh deeee Oh daaaa…'. Rollicking stuff!
And then there were the houses in colour combinations that hit you in the solar plexus parrot green and ochre, bilious yellow and crimson, purple and screaming pink; and one to beat all others, blue in front with side walls in vertical red and white stripes.
What a relief it was then to halt at the Padmanabhapuram Palace, four centuries old, built of stone and weathered timber with tiled roofs and not a lick of paint anywhere. The clock tower beside the entrance gave the time correct to the minute as it has done for 300 years.
Outwardly little except their spaciousness distinguishes Kerala's palaces and temples from residential dwellings. There is no grandiloquence here; no power statement, no towering spires or gopurams and even the old mosques built centuries ago by peaceful Arab traders do not assert an aggressive Islamic identity.
In temples double or triple-gabled roofs tiled in fish-scale patterns rise in tiers, with a brass finial marking the top. A triangular slat of carved wood fitted into the gable-point shows some auspicious motif, often the Goddess Laxmi being bathed by elephants spouting water from upraised trunks.
Palaces and public buildings are similarly roofed, their plainness compensated by resplendent interiors. Everywhere deep-carved wood is in evidence, in delicate latticework, in cross beams and supporting struts and columns, and especially in the panelled ceilings divided into squares, each square a separate composition.
Unique items
Royal residences have a display of old weaponry and unique items: a bed fashioned out of the wood of several medicinal trees to cure illness, an ivory throne made of 26 tusks and another of Bohemian crystal, pillars carved out of jackfruit wood and a dazzling array of metal statues. In the Durbar Hall at Padmanabhapuram windows of coloured mica flood the interiors with light, and the shiny black flooring made of a unique mixture of egg white, jaggery, burnt coconut, charcoal and river sand has a gloss that never dims.
For stone statuary one must go to the great Padmmanabhaswamy Temple, a mind-boggling conglomeration of deities with vehicles and attendants, mythical creatures and ferocious dvarapalas , and pillars covered with scrolls and floral designs. The centrepiece is a magnificent blue Vishnu 18 feet long reclining on Sheshnag in his long sleep.
Until recently Kerala's most distinguished citizen was Laurie Baker who added a new dimension to the State's architectural landscape. Creating the Vernacular Style, inexpensive, easy to maintain and eco-friendly, his houses are built of mud, exposed brick and stone, with terracotta tiling for floors and roofs. And who wants windows? You can simply perforate exterior walls, flooding rooms with natural light and creating breathtakingly beautiful lattices. And why destroy a life-giving tree? Just build a unique S-shaped living room around it!
It wasn't until our last day in Triv that we discovered Sushil and Jane, introduced by a mutual friend. Lean, spry and full of beans we supposed him to be about 55 years old and were proved to be out by two decades. Here was an exceptional army man who preferred serious reading to playing golf and bridge, and has authored a book on the history of the Assam Regiment and others on the North East, his area of special interest. Jane, lovable and soft-spoken, confided that though she needed glasses she was averse to wearing them because she kept leaving them in the most unlikely places; the fridge, the washing machine and so on.
Great-hearted and great fun to be with, these yesterday's strangers took us out to lunch and then for a glorious gad around town, motorised of course, with myself in the front seat and three lissom lasses less broad in the beam crowded into the back. Being overweight can be an advantage!
From another era
Avoiding the tourist beat we saw the official buildings of another era with huge expanses of tiled roof supported on carved pillars and gracious rounded verandahs, and more Laurie Baker structures of which no two are alike. The Coffee House, a multi-storeyed cylinder, stood tall amid swirling traffic on a busy thoroughfare; and a home resembled a cluster of wigwams with bamboo poles held together at the top spreading out to form circular roofs.
Ending up finally at the Pillai home for tea, we stayed for a while looking at photographs and books, and Sushil advised that to speed up our slowcoach driver I should say, “ Veygum, veygum ”. (I did. I veygummed persuasively, firmly, angrily. Nothing worked.)
And then it was time to go. For Jane, not as robust as her husband, the day had been long and taxing but, no, she said. ‘When you laugh together it can never be too long'. Wise words! As Charlie the Immortal Tramp put it, “A day without laughter is a wasted day.”
