In grandeur, it was no match to the majestic palaces up north. But it was still called a palace, though the structure looked no more than a crude fort.
Kizhakke Kovilakam in Kottakkal, a small town in Malappuram district of Kerala, was the palace of my father, who belonged to the Zamorin family, erstwhile rulers of Kozhikode. He was a teacher in the Rajah’s High School, Kottakkal.
The buildings constructed in a haphazard way in the middle are hemmed in by thick earthen walls. The compound has huge doors made of heavy timber on three sides. The main entrance has two such doors.
The palace is a complex of many buildings interconnected without much of a plan. Anyway, in my memory, it was an intricate mix of dark corridors, quadrangles and atria. Believe me, when I was four or five, it was an adventure to navigate through those catacombs even at noon, leave alone night.
Abundance of water
The palace has two private ponds, part of a large public pond walled and roof-tiled. One is for the women and the other for the men of the royal family. We could take bath in privacy, without the sun or rain spoiling the show, and go for a swim too. After school, we used to go with bathing oil, soap and towel and spend quite a long time playing in the water.
This pond is separated from the main pool by robust laterite walls and these walls have small arches which allow the passage of water to and from the main pond. During our aquatic games, we used to go and stand under those arches.
My father used to take me for bath, and we were used to crocodiles in the pond. At that point of time, it had never struck me as odd. And there were large bats roosting on the branches of a large tropical tree in front of a Devi temple inside the palace enclave.
Now in retrospect, I am amazed at the whole thing.
Have you ever heard of domesticated crocodiles? They were not small species. Sometimes, they used to come out of the water and sun themselves on the open steps. Some of them were as long as 12 to 15 feet, nose to tail. They lay, their toothy mouth open, languishing in the sun, eyes closed with a translucent film. They were langorous. Maybe, they took time to wake up from slumber; then they jumped into the water with a big splash and dove deep down, to surface again after a long time. There was not even a single case of anybody getting hurt by them.
One evening, my father and I were a little late than usual and the bathing area was dark. We had a hurricane lamp, but its fickle light only made it scarier, casting long shadows and making the water look dark and foreboding.
I was neck-deep in water after father finished soaping me. He was applying soap himself, and now I had to wash myself, get out of the water and dry myself with a small towel.
I was scanning the surface of the water and suddenly saw a crocodile slowly sailing down. I could see only its protruding eyes above the water level, some 20 feet away. “Crocodile,” I cried and jumped out to the stone steps. My father didn’t bat an eyelid. He started throwing water with his cupped hands and bingo, the crocodile stopped moving and stayed there, watching us with its yellow eyes, as if waiting for us to finish bath so that it could go home.
Later, my father told me that this crocodile roosted in that area and came by nightfall to feed its litter or stand guard to its eggs. That was my first close encounter with the crocodiles of the royal pond.
Off to a zoo
Now after 60 years, the palace has been partitioned into smaller dwellings and many have sold off their properties.
The pond too has gone bad with decades of silting. The crocodiles were fished out and sent to the Thrissur zoo for their safety.
Now when I go to the pond, it has a pall of gloom. No children, no crocodiles and no flying foxes — that tree was long gone. Time in its passage takes away your childhood, the things which fascinated you during childhood and even that childish wonder too. And you are left with only the memories. I always felt that time is an irresistible, incessant, relentless thing which just moves on whatever happens.
Like an anaconda that slowly and steadily swallows its prey three or four times its size, time slowly and steadily takes its toll.
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