After hearing about the luxury houseboats and for my abhorrence of the same, I had almost made up my mind to skip Alleppey – Can you believe it! But thanks to the snake boat races, which were happening everywhere in and around Alleppey during the Onam celebration week, I headed for Alleppey. Alleppey, Kumarakom, and Kollam are hubs of backwater cruising, but the backwaters don’t start and end with luxury cruises. There is a whole different world out there extending from Kochi to Kollam. I had my share of luxury in a Shikara cruise in Vaikom backwaters near Kochi itself, which I have discussed elsewhere. Now my only motivation for Alleppey was discovery of a new different life waiting to be explored in backwaters.
Alleppey is the central hub of waterways opening up to the widest stretch of Vembanad Lake near Nehru Trophy Boat Race finishing point. I snuggled myself up in a comfortable home stay next to the finishing point for almost a week and explored the backwaters like a local (except that I had no knowledge of Malayalam). I think this is the only way to spend more than 2 days in backwaters: whatever your appetite for luxury, you just can’t keep ordering people days-after-days, weeks-after-weeks, sitting in a luxury bedroom inside a houseboat, knowing well enough your houseboat is destroying the beautiful environment outside with the ugly snort of diesel.
The life in the backwaters intersperses with that on the land, but indeed there are a few villages which have no land connection with the outside world. The backwaters are the canals and lakes created by the backflow of sea water into the rivers arriving from the Nilgiris for exit into the sea via lagoons created next to the sea by deposition of eroded soil. This flow of water, sweet n' salty, is the lifeline of the people in the villages next to the backwaters. They fish and farm in the water and export the produce to the outside world through numerous boats of varying sizes extending from small toady boats to large snake boats, interestingly used traditionally for transportation of soldiers. Some row them leisurely with raw muscle power, yet others have installed automatic motors pushed by diesel. The government has also chipped in with their large size ferries connecting the main centers with the small island villages in the backwaters. I explored the backwaters in the government run ferries as well as a small country boat.
The ferry cruise connecting Alleppey to Kottayam is around a four hrs journey connecting dozens of villages en route. I boarded the ferry and tried looking as local-like as possible, but the long stay in Delhi has made me whiter, if not fairer, than most of them living in the villages, for which color the Keralites seem to be having a liking; so, each village would greet me with hand waves, which, after a while, my hands would respond in a sort of reflex action without any intervention of mind whatsoever. But, unfortunately, that also made me an alien, disconnecting me from the secrets of the backwaters lives. So, whatever I gathered is from my observation of the village life from a distance, which I did try to compensate later be taking a guided tour in a country boat but with moderate success only.
The villages located next to the backwaters were completely dependant upon ferry for travel. The houses were located next to the shore, and on the rear side were paddy fields. The ordinary schools and doctors were available in the villages itself, but most of the people owned small boats called toddy boats for emergency travel to the cities. There were also restaurants on the shores, which seemed to be catering to the leisure class. The people would wash laundry, utensils, themselves, in the backwaters, and would generally idle away time next to the waters.
Though the travel to and fro the local landmarks like churches/mosques/temples, neighborhood attractions, public services, etc, would happen in small country boats or bigger privately owned for-hire boats, the arrival of the government ferry, which would just be only a few times a day, would be an event of extraordinary importance, making people, young and old, sprinting to board the ferry. Most of the construction was ordinary and modest, but there were some lavishly build houses too, which on little inquiry were found to be owned by NRI returns from the Gulf.
For a tourist, all this would be an attraction, but, for locals, it might just be boring. How long can you remain attached to a same lifestyle? Yes, surely, the lifestyle was idyllic! Inspirational for writing! But what after the book completes? Change is necessary! Anyways, I don't think the tourists take the ferry too very often. So, the illusion remains intact in the houseboats.
The trip in the country boat was under the smart guidance of a local village man named James (name changed for privacy protection), shared with three young backpackers from Italy, Isreal and Holland. After the trip in the big size ferry, the trip in the small country boat had its own character. The boat was like a small activist, who would just not attach himself to the glitz and glamour of the big houseboats. Incidentally, James was earlier the captain of a large houseboat but had then started of his own with that small country boat and wouldn’t change for anything (except may be a few billions). His determination became evident when we crossed over a large houseboat. Generally, the small boats would halt and wait for the big motorized houseboats to pass by, but James kept rowing. When we crossed over, it gave the feeling as if we were rowing back along with the big houseboat, but it was not so: we were rowing ahead with the grit and determination of James. This was a feeling similar to what we feel when we face big things in life. We get attracted to them so much so that we want to follow them even if they travel in the opposite direction. We tend to lose our direction enamored by the glamour of the big. But if the strength of the character is maintained, we remain focused, follow our destiny, and become important just because of the difference we offer, which very few dare do.
After traversing the big vast stretches of Meenapalli Lake and numerous narrow canals bordered by small and big villages, we reached Kuttamangalam, Kainakary, a hamlet of around 3,000 people, situated on both sides of a canal of about 30 ft width. The hamlet stretched about a km with two bridges at each corner. The people were extremely friendly. It seemed they were living co-operatively in a communist style living, but I also saw some empty plastic bottles demarcating a portion of the backwaters in front of a house, as if demarcating a private beach. Nevertheless, the village was pretty well developed with all facilities like roads, electricity, phone, etc, in spite of no land connection with the main cities. There were umpteen toddy boats stationed on either side of the canal readily available for across the canal transportation of goods and persons in a jiffy. The Onam celebrations had infused lots of loud dancing and singing on incomprehensible Malayali and comprehensible Bollywood numbers on either side of the canal. The celebrations had also created public nuisance, including garbage and dirt, which was an exception in Kerala.
The hamlet also had a high school with SNDP name. SNDP is a socio-religious organization, whose general secretary seems to have recently cozied up with Amit Shah of the BJP, but James, who was a subtle Left supporter, informed me that the people consider SNDP a non-political outfit and don’t vote for the BJP under any circumstance – though I doubt it; in fact, I saw lots of BJP/RSS presence in Alleppey as well; I think, like in Bengal, the Communists are smug in Kerala too and would get a harsh surprise soon.
On the trip back, James was so tired that he even allowed us to row the boat for some time, or probably he mistook me for a teenager for the questions I had been asking him since morning – others were anyways more or less teenagers only. Nevertheless, I did row like a teenager for it was already afternoon and I was indeed hungry for the promised lunch at James'. And I was not disappointed: it was the best Keralan lunch I have had during my trip. With this lunch, my appetite for the backwaters was satisfied; don’t know whether the write up above has satisfied your appetite; if not, meet me over a Lunch.
The small visit to Kotayyam was completely accidental. The return ferry from Kotayyam to Alleppey was not available for at least an hour; so, obviously I decided to visit the city, which, as usual, was neat and clean, and the people, friendly and helpful. The main attraction in Kottayam district is Kumarakom backwaters. Of course, I had heard about it, but since my objective was not luxury, Kumarakom and Kottayam were not on my itinerary. Nevertheless, I decided to visit the bird sanctuary in Kumarakom knowing well enough I wouldn’t spot a single bird in a September afternoon. But what I indeed spotted was the natural affection of the Keralites towards the tourists. They go out of way to help you and feel embarrassed if they even accidentally fail in their self-imposed obligation.
A small incident would make the above obvious. I took a local bus from Kottayam to Kumarakom Bird Sanctuary, which is some 7-8 km from the main city. In the bus, I was about to occupy a seat when an old man jumped onto it without realizing that I was interested in it too. But when he realized it, he kept feeling guilty. He stood up and offered me his seat. Obviously I refused. Finally, when I got the seat, he was delighted. Incidentally, the seat was next to him. He kept talking to me in Malayalam throughout the journey. I don't know Malayalam, he didn't know English, yet he was able to communicate that the government ferry service from Kumarakom to Muhamma was the best way to experience Vembanad Lake at Kumarakom, and I will have to thank him because it indeed is the best way to experience Vembanad Lake.
At the bird sanctuary, though there were no visible birds, there was lots of chirping, which was complementing the serene view of the lake. After a little walk, I seated myself on a tree branch at the end corner of the canal opening into the Vambanad Lake. The island of water hyacinths separated me from the lake and also secured me into the protective arms of a tree fitted tightly into the secure ground underneath. Who says water hyacinths don’t serve any purpose! At least for me, they were my shield against my enthusiasm, which, but for them, would have taken me to the unknown world of Vembanad Lake, irrespective of the guard posted for security, who in any case was napping.
I have already cribbed about the houseboats, but here it is inevitable. The canal next to the bird sanctuary was the boarding and alighting point for the houseboats. The houseboats would turn at the corner where I was seated; the speed would be lowered; the engines would exude bad diesel smell while making obnoxious noise, which would frighten the chirping birds. I wonder how such a thing could ever be allowed. What worse, the Kerala Government has even categorized houseboats as Platinum, Gold and Silver, on the revenue they earn while scaring the chirping birds. This is Communism -- I wonder what would happen when it would be Neo-Liberalism, which it very soon would be under the competent advice of Gita Gopinath, the newly appointed advisor to the CM. These houseboats may look good from far, but from near they are nuisance, period.
Once again I was on a ferry; albeit this time on the advice of a grounded Keralite; and what an advice it was. The ferry traversed longitudinally through the widest stretch of Vambanad Lake from Kumarakom to Muhamma. There was nothing but water on the stretch. It seemed as if the water would not drown you if you were drawn towards it; rather it promised a new life, unknown yet to humanity. Just then I saw a toddy boat being roared by a sole soul in the vast expanse of Vembanad Lake. Incredible! The mere thought of riding a toddy boat on such a vast expanse of water would give me goose bumps, but he was doing it unbothered, as if he had already kissed the new life underneath the waters. Why and how else can one risk his life in such a manner!
The transfer from Muhamma to Alleppey happened in a KSRTC bus. In any other state, this would be a tiring, ordinary bus ride. But, in Kerala, everything is an experience: even a ride in KSRTC bus. The whole highway was lightened with shops selling everything from plastic furniture and granite to provisions and hardware. The habitation it seemed just didn’t end. Except for some traffic at the Muhamma bus station junction, there were no traffic jams anywhere. The road was pretty narrow, but everybody was maintaining the lane discipline. There were no dividers separating the traffic from the opposite direction, but no body was crisscrossing to overtake vehicles. Even at the Muhamma junction, the two policemen very swiftly released the traffic. Most interestingly, a commoner suo-moto started helping the policemen, which in Delhi would be madness, both for the police and the citizenry. There, it seemed normal and necessary to exist and survive.
Alleppey Beach is hardly the part of Alleppey; atleast the auto drivers gave such an impression. It is just 4 km from the main town of Alleppey, but the auto drivers charged anything from 60 to 150 bucks. And if you would search for a pre-paid auto point at KSRTC, the enquiry, after scanning you from tip to toe, would advice you to board a KSRTC bus instead -- btw, the KSRTC bus drivers and conductors were all very welcoming towards the tourists; so, I didn't take it negatively, nor should you. This was the first sign of corruption I encountered in Kerala, which continued thereafter in Haripad/Payyipad, Munnar, Varkala, etc. Indeed, Kerala needs numerous pre-paid auto points, for the auto trade unions there; i.e., BMS, INTUC, AITUC, etc; were charging the Uber and Ola rates, albeit sans services even remotely comparable.
Nevertheless, Alleppey Beach was pretty beautiful. The beach towards the main entrance was crowded, but a small walk towards the north direction, the beach became cleaner and quieter, and it remained so for a very long stretch, where many beach resorts had also come up. Interestingly, there were display boards warning people from bathing and adventuring on that side of the beach. I wonder whether the beach resorts or the display boards appeared first. Anyways, the beach resorts had put up beach furniture in front of their properties, which were then occupied by dogs given the off season, and I must assure that the Keralan dogs, like the Keralan men, are polite towards the tourists. They vacated one of the benches for me, which I occupied till I enjoyed a good afternoon nap.
By the time I woke up, the clouds enveloped the sky and the sea water complemented the clouds merging all into a single whole. The rains started pouring and lot many people came over to that side of the beach as well – Keralans are not naive after all; they knew exactly the veracity of those warning messages. Most of them were young college guys in some kind of a picnic mode. The Keralites seem to be having a good diet, may be because of beef. The young guys don't have paunches, are generally tall, and are pretty well developed too. Also there were many older women on the beach, who were ogling these guys, and it seemed as if it was normal and well-accepted.
I wonder which bureaucrat in Kerala came up with the idea of staring 14 sec or more as a criminal offence. Unless two people stare at each other, how would one know over another who stared whom? If a guy stares a girl, so would a girl stare the guy to reach a conclusion that she has been stared unless Google develops a special third eye for girls, which would capture the stares but won’t stare the abominable guys; indeed a difficult call even for Google. Won’t it be better to not have this staring offence at all? Let the old women stare young guys, and let the men stare irrespective of age, given the women never age -- anyways, the men won't stop, certainly not at a beach!
There are lots of snake boat races in Kerala, especially during the Onam festival celebrations. The biggest of them all, Nehru Trophy, was already over, but there were many challengers for the second spot: Payyipad, Aranmula, Moolam, etc. I chose Payyipad for no specific reason. This race is patronized by the Congress’ politicians, and it did turn pretty funny by the end of it. Let me give the spoilers right away.
The participating captains would fight over lane selection, and the forthwith commentator would also apprise the audience of it. The audience, so patient, would wait for an hour for the captains to settle the dispute. As a compromise, all of them would race in the single central lane, and since they would ride so close to each other, nobody would win or lose but one would be announced winner nevertheless. The winner would obviously do a victory parade, in which the losing team's supporters would throw pop corns, water, ice cream, bottles, shoes, sticks, chairs, banners, furniture, and almost everything else available to them at their disposal in the VIP enclosure.
Nevertheless, the event was not so poorly organized even. There were three enclosures for seating the audience, ticketed at Rs 150/-, Rs 250/- and Rs 500/-. I chose the Rs 250/- enclosure, and thankfully so given what would eventually happen in the VIP enclosure ticketed at Rs 500/-. The Rs 150/- enclosure was occupied mostly by the police personnel. Or, were they given free passes for crowd control? Whatever, they became part of the crowd, more or less, and didn't do anything to control the crowd. And thankfully so, else the event wouldn't have ended so entertainingly.
But the enclosures were superfluous. The best vantage points were available on tree branches, canal embankments, bridge pillars, and anywhere and everywhere in the canal generally but only if you were willing to swim with or without clothes. I did take a plunge, left my comfortable seat, and seated myself on the canal embankment in front of the enclosure, which did give me a very advantageous vantage point, albeit with a constant threat of being dropped into the canal by an ever enthusiastic crowd. Anyways, in the enclosure, my seat was next to a drunken old man, who would soon tear off all his clothes and jump into the canal.
BTW, there was a family of three foreigners too in the audience (no, not Italians), who were also seated in the same enclosure and were garnering lots of eyeballs. The mother was an effusive lady, who was looking younger than her age, and the Kerelan guys were waving at her continuously from the many boats they were riding in the canal before the race, and she also seemed to be enjoying the attention. I don’t know what happened to her by the end of the race. I only hope she didn’t enter the VIP enclosure for security.
The real race was preceded by a random boat parade, which included participants from Baba Ramdev’s Patanjali Centre, Nuns from the local church, some Muslim clerics, professional dancers, a circus troupe, et al. However, the real participants were very well organized, who presented a fantastic drill near the finishing line just before starting the races, and that’s the only time I felt happy on spending money to watch the race because then the canal was cleared of all boats and swimmers and the drill was the only distraction in the water, which was best visible to the privileged ticket holders.
The races continued for almost two hours with continuous commentary in Malayalam by an energetic speaker. I made friends with two Malayalam speaking locals, who religiously updated me with the happenings. However, even they were confused. I ended up watching at least five final races till I found the finalists were actually fighting over lane selection as discussed above. The others were actually self-sponsored races of the losers, who were trying to win, if nothing else, the appreciation of the audience.
Eventually, when the final race did happen, it was electric. There was not a single soul seated on the seats. People were clapping, singing, and shouting continuously, and those high on adrenalin were jumping into the water with or without clothes. This was an event which can’t be described but can only be experienced. I think this boat race would be better than the more sophisticated Nehru Trophy Race because of the liberty it gave to the audience to become the participants. No wonder, when the stakes were so high, some people would get offended and throw pop corns, water, ice cream, bottles, shoes, sticks, chairs, banners, furniture, etc, into the victory parade. I don’t think this electric an environment could have ended in any other manner. All in the game!