India is a land whose primary occupation is agriculture. Changes in season thus play a very important role for Indian farmers. Their lifestyles and celebrations are thus exclusively linked to the seasonal landmarks in a year. There are many Indian festivals which are in tune with a farmer’s lifestyle and also with the seasonal variations in a year. Pongal, the harvest festival of the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu is one of them. It is one of the most popular harvest festivals of South India, mainly Tamil Nadu. Lasting for four days, the celebrations include cooking of delicious pongal, exchanging gifts and drawing of kolam or rangoli (designs drawn on the floor with colour powder or rice powder).

This festival marks the beginning of the end of winter season and corresponds to the time when the sun is moving towards Uttarayanam (north) from Dakshinayanam (south). The period is referred to as Uttarayan Punyakalam and is considered auspicious. As per the Tamil calendar, Pongal is celebrated four days from the last day of the month of Margazhi (December — January) to the third day of the month Thai (January — February). Thus, according to the Gregorian calendar, Pongal is celebrated from 12 to 15 January of which Pongal day or the first day of Thai falls on 14 January. On this occasion farmers pay their respects to the rain, sun and the farm animals, all of which are essentials in any harvest. Also, since paddy and other crops depend on the availability of good rain and Tamil Nadu does not have many perennial water sources, rain and sun gods are invoked during this auspicious occasion. Pongal is also known as “Tamizhar Thirunal” (meaning “the festival of Tamils”). “Thai Pirandhal Vazhi Pirakkum” which means that “birth of the Thai month will pave way for new opportunities” is a common saying in reference to Pongal.

The Pongal festival is one of the biggest festivals celebrated in South India and is a thanksgiving for the plentiful harvest received. The festival is celebrated with great pomp and show and people clean and decorate their houses with flowers and rangoli and buy new clothes. This is when farmers bring newly harvested rice home and feed their cattle a rice dish called Pongal- from where the festival got its name, and is dedicated to Lord Surya. It is also celebrated as Tamil Nadu’s New Year Day. The festival is celebrated for four days. On, the first day, Bhogi, the old clothes and materials are thrown away and fired, marking the beginning of a new life. The second day, the Pongal day, is celebrated by boiling fresh milk early in the morning and allowing it to boil over the vessel – a tradition that is the literal translation for Pongal (in Tamil). People also prepare savories and sweets, visit each other’s homes, and exchange greetings. The third day, Mattu Pongal, is meant to offer thanks to the cows and buffaloes, as they are used to plough the lands. Jallikattu, a violent taming the bull contest, marks this day. On the last day, Kanum Pongal, people go out to picnic. During the Pongal season, people eat sugar canes and decorate the houses with Kolam. Coinciding with Makara Sankranti and Lohri of the north, it is also called Pongal Sankranti and thus celebrated in some form in various parts of India. Even though Pongal was originally a festival for the farming community, today it is celebrated by all.

Kerala has one of the best culinary experiences that the country can offer. Be it in the form of elaborately prepared concoctions to the simple but tasty dishes, Kerala has it all. Here we bring to your as a part of this two series article, the first five must-try dishes when you step in to God’s Own.

1.       Karimeen pollichadu –It is one of the most popular dishes in Kerala, had not only by tourists but also the local crowd. This spicy steamed fish dish is made with generously coated spices and wrapped in the all famous banana leaf to retain the flavors and the nutritional value. For all the health conscious people out there this dish is one of the healthiest non-vegetarian dish possible as the fish is just fried a bit to get the right flavor out and then steamed. So it’s a dish that can be had without second thoughts or regrets. This must have dish is found all around Kerala.

2.       Malabar biryani-The popular biryani, originated from the Arabs has become the trademark dish of the northern Malabar cuisine. This exotic dish has complex ingredients, each of which complements the dish in its own individual way. This dish consists of rice cooked along with meat, onions, chilies and other spices. Biryani now a day has evolved a lot from the original version of it (mutton). Many of the restaurants give customers choices of the fillings (masala) of the biryani.

3.       Pork Vindaloo-This dish is popular in Christian communities. It is one of the most common dish that is found in restaurants. The pork’s fat and aloo (potato) is added to this dish so as to give it more flavor. This dish has to be kept to rest for at least 24 hrs before serving to attain flavor and to let the curry absorb into the pork. This dish is complete with the combination ofPaal-Appam, a circular, fluffy, crisp-edged pancake made of rice flour fermented with a small amount of toddy or wine.

4.       Manga pachadi-Manga or Mango is used in most of the vegetarian dishes to give it that sweet tang taste to the dish. Manga pachadi is made by mixing mango with curd and often had with rice as a “kootan”. This dish bonds you to the entire Keralite household as it is one of the usually made dishes by the locals. “Meals Ready” will be a sign one will often see while walking past a hotel in Kerala. This dish is usually served as part of “meals”.

5.       Avail- Coconuts grow in abundance in Kerala, and consequently, coconut kernel, (sliced or grated) coconut cream and coconut milk are widely used in dishes for thickening and flavoring. In this dish grated coconut acts as the main ingredient. It is combined with vegetables like ash gourd colocasia carrot drumstick and the best part of this dish is that a variety of vegetables can be added to it n it would still be delicious; all the ingredients are mashed to form a paste so that it complements the rice. Avial is one of the main curries in traditional sadyas.

The hectic day was finally coming to an end and riding back home relieved to have the rest of the evening to myself, the first drops from the sky were mostly unnoticed. It wasn’t until I saw the rider ahead of me pull over to a side to cover himself up with his raincoat that it hit me. The long impending shower which had been clouding us throughout the day was finally happening. Cursing my luck for being caught in the rain without a raincoat, I pulled into the parking lot behind the Marine Drive. Running across to the GCDA building in a failed attempt to not get wet, I quickly found myself a spot on the marble laid stairs at the back of the building which faced the water. Realizing I was going to be here for a while, I took out my phone and started listening to some music through my earphones.

As the rain grew stronger, the heavy winds that accompanied it gave me a chill, and soaked in rain my clothes weren’t really helping me out here. I watched as a man passing by fought desperately to keep a hold of his umbrella before the winds took along with them what they felt was theirs, leaving the man drenched. A subtle smile spread across my lips watching his dilemma as I went back to a time when I was with my friends on a bridge which had very little traffic and enjoyed the rain which had been showering on us. Thinking of the feeling it gave me then, I felt a want to walk through the Marine Drive in the rain. Realizing I had nothing to lose here, I was quick to get up and walk down the stairs. The few people who had been sheltering themselves from the rain like me watching me losing reason momentarily held me back momentarily, but the breeze gave me the little motivation in needed and soon I was strolling over the wet and slippery floor which reflected my image back at me in parts as the rain kept me company.

My loss of reason was further cemented when the makeshift shop selling ice cream gained from my lack of sense as I walked past it holding an ice cream in my hand. Entertainment was aplenty, with people drenched in the rains tried miserably to dry themselves out.

The stairs leading up to the Rainbow bridge required a bit of an effort, with the slippery steps giving me a hard time. Atop the bridge, I was treated with a view of the water unlike any other. With the rains putting the several boats which invaded the water out of business for the evening, the spotless view in front of me was spectacular.

I don’t know how long I spent on the bridge but by the time I decided I was done for the evening, the rains had subdued a bit. The strong downpour had been replaced by a calm drizzle. Realizing it didn’t really matter whether it still rained or not, I walked back to my bike. Starting off the engine and warming it up, a smile grew across my face as I contemplated the ride back home in the rain.

The sharp, twisty curves which we had been steadily and slowly climbing for the past half an hour were in itself the biggest source of entertainment for me right now. Claiming the ascending altitude inch by inch all the while negotiating the occasional rural jeep which sped past us out of hairpins on my unsuspecting driver kept us intrigued about this trip. While most travellers who were on these narrow roads for the first time would choose to keep their eyes on the road and measure their driver’s skills taking the extra effort to ensure they had a safe trip, I trusted the taxi driver to know his way around and decided I would rather treat myself to the fantastic landscape that stretched for miles around us. The beautiful greenery that the vast tea estates presented which spread around for acres was enlightening to say the least. My favourite U2 CD which was destined to be my companion on this trip was playing the song ‘Magnificient’ when I asked the driver to switch off the aircon in the car and rolled down the window, stretching my head out the window and feeling the chilled breeze sweep across my face. My soul had already attained a state of comfort which was one of those moments that I looked forward to at the end of every great trip; the only difference this time being that I was still on my way to my destination for the weekend.

My memory of Munnar is quite shallow with the only other time I had been to this amazing hill station being with my family on a vacation long ago when I was a kid. The only things I could remember clearly from then was the hotel we stayed at and the tall glass of hot chocolate that I treated myself to during a dinner at some restaurant. So for me, this trip to Munnar was a first of sorts.

It was still early in the day and the sun was finding it hard to make its presence felt in the chilly weather with rays of sunlight seeping through periodically in an attempt to remind us of its diminished existence. I watched as women carrying tea leaves in their wicker baskets moved along the edges of the road.

Around the end of yet another sharp twisted curve I spotted a roadside shop and almost instantly a desire for a steaming hot cup of coffee grew within me. Pulling over to the side of the road, I took my time out to stretch myself once I got out of the car, and wrapping myself around with my sweater I walked up to the shop. The coffee only took the vendor about a minute’s worth of labour and soon I was sipping on the coffee as my driver lit up a cigarette. Spending almost ten minutes sitting across the wooden bench laid out in front of the shop, the hungry cries from my stomach had to work for it to get me up on my feet and back in the car.

Another half an hour or so on the road and the banner on the side of the road reading Tall Trees  led is into the hotel where lunch and a meeting with the GM of the hotel awaited me. Understanding my priorities, the considerate GM led us to the restaurant where a delicious meal of traditional biriyani awaited us. I spent my time wisely with the food we had been served, and almost an hour of feasting later, the impending meeting happened.

By the time I came out of the conference room, evening had begun to approach. Not wanting to get caught up negotiating the hairpins in the dark, I soon boarded the car and the drive back began. Although the visit had been very brief, it gave me ample reasons to spend a good weekend here again and the thought of it gave me enough fodder to while away my long journey back to reality.

I decided to go for a ride in the rain, it was just drizzling when I started my engine and I had worn a jacket to prevent my shirt from getting wet, but just as I was about to set off,  I looked back to find my jacket’s trouser hung on the string. Confused whether to take it or not, the rain which was gaining momentum helped me make a quick decision and I accelerated onto the road without it.

As the rains poured in, I felt myself getting wet and cold. Not having decided my destination, I took the first roads which caught my eye and 15 minutes into the ride, I decided to head for Kuzhupilly beach, almost 25 Km from the city. I had been there once before and I could remember that the roads were better compared to any other roads I could imagine in the city.

I waited at the level cross to see the train pass by as fellow riders pulling out their raincoats. The halt at the level cross was a blessing in disguise for them. We had to wait for almost 7 minutes to hear the roar of the engine and the sound of the horn warning everyone using the track to move. The train was passing by slowly as it was heading for a station not for ahead. I saw a kid in the train enjoying the rain by putting his hands outside, only to see his dad suddenly pull his hand in.

The signal turned from red to green as the full length of the train disappeared. Motorists kicked their vehicles to life. I could see the railway guard raising the bar used to prevent vehicles crossing it. Inch by Inch the bar rose, and vehicles started to race to get a little space for them to pass through. I waited patiently for the vehicles in hurry to pass me.

I took the road where traffic was less. By then, the rain had lost her fury, but it was still drizzling which prevented me from speeding. Towards the left side of the road, I saw the remains of old railway station built by the King post-independence. I wondered what was happening with the plans of getting it converted to a railway museum. History says the King had to give away everything in his treasury to build the railway station but sadly it was neglected by the authorities after the new railway station was built on the southern side of the city.

I took the bridge connected three islands, Bolgatty, Vallarpadom and Vypin. I halted atop the bridge connecting the city with the Bolgatty Island at the sight of a man fishing from the bridge in the rain. I went to him to strike a conversation. I asked him, “How long have you been fishing here.”, the man looking curiously at me answered, “About two hours. ‘.I continued, “In the rain?”, his reply came suddenly but harshly, “Yes, can’t you see.” I replied, “Okay.”I continued to walk back to my bike parked alongside the bridge. I saw a team of fisherman down the bridge pulling up the Chinese fishing nets. They had a good catch.

Did I mention that the view of the city, mainly Marine Drive is just fabulous from the bridge? It is, you got to see it if you pass through the Goshree Bridges. I got on to the bike as it started to rain heavily yet I decided to go further. Looking for a bit of adventure, I went ahead accelerating the bike to a higher momentum and it almost cost my life as I had to apply the brakes in order to avoid a pedestrian crossing the road. The rear tire almost went out of control but thanks to God somehow I could gain control. I remembered the CEAT advertisement, ‘Roads are full of idiots’. Adding a bit more to it, I came to the conclusion that “Roads are full of idiots including me”.

The straight road towards the beach side helped me to concentrate more on the ride. I made sure I rode within my limits for the rest of the journey. I reached the beach a little while later. It was a beach which was less promoted by the tourism department, but I saw more infrastructure developments around the beach.

They had erected beach parasol with the leaves of coconut and palm tree. I took shelter under one of them. Taking out a book which I had rented from the new home reading service in Kochi – ‘The Readers’ Web‘, I sat there for almost an hour enjoying the small drizzles and my book as the rain had almost completely withdrawn. I had taken off my rain jacket as I sat to read the book. Realizing there was no one at the beach where I was sitting, I took off my shirt as well which was half wet. The strong breeze at the beach helped my trousers and my shirt get dry. I called off the day as the light faded.

I drank hot coffee from the shop nearby before starting my journey back home. It felt like heaven to gulp the hot coffee down. I reached back home happy about the ride in the rain.

Running across to the taxi waiting at the other end of the car park while struggling to settle differences with the umbrella that I had clutched in one hand that was trying hard not to get me drenched in the pouring rain, I had a sudden craving, the kind that could not be justified by reason or science, to let go of the umbrella and feel the skies blessing the earth on my skin. It wasn’t that I was too emotionally attached to the umbrella which I had recently got reacquainted with, nor was it that I had kept the taxi waiting for too long and I should be well on my way elsewhere by now. In fact, the driver inside the car was dozing off while the cool weather outside took all the effort to make him feel at home within the confines of his car. Rather, it was the inhibition from the thought that I had perhaps grown too old to enjoy the simple things in life and that soaking myself in the rain when I have the option of protecting myself with an umbrella would make me look stupid to other people which refrained me from letting my inner-self make the best out of the moment. Jumping into the car, I made sure all the windows were up and that not one drop of water could seep into the car while the driver started the engine and drove away while still struggling to lose his drowsiness.

The entire afternoon could be summed up best by the words ‘peaceful’ and ‘refreshing’. It had been a while since I had last ventured out of my home. The fantastic weather outside and the welcoming bed in my room had kept me busy from a healthy social life for a couple of days now. So when I was met with the ordeal of getting myself to Kottayam to meet my grandparents, I decided it would be a great opportunity to enjoy this climate.

The monsoons have always been more than just a climate for me. It has been about emotions and a state of calm that my mind didn’t otherwise have many opportunities to enjoy. It gives us the chance to slow down for a bit and just relax and enjoy life as it happens. I have always noticed that it is during this time of the year that I have the mind to enjoy the simple things in life, like a hot cup of coffee by the balcony as I watch the rain trickle down the edges of the wall and the city take a moment to catch her breath, or watch kids run down the street playing in the rain while their mothers shout out from their houses ordering them to get back inside and not catch a cold, or better yet, halt in the middle of the street folding my umbrella as I feel the rain on my skin while people beside me sprint desperately against the charm of nature trying to get back to their busy, monotonous life before the rain pulls them out of their cycle of life for a few seconds. This season, I have come to figure, has always made me enjoy life more often and brought a smile across my face from watching and experiencing simple human emotions.

But the hot cup of coffee had always been at the top of my list on a rainy day, and neither the taxi which I had hired to take me to Kottayam nor the fear of getting drenched in the rain could stop me from enjoying my coffee today. And thus, the stopover at Saro’s Lake County was inevitable.

I had always been intrigued by the boutique leisure property along the backwaters of Kumarakom. My second time here, the view from the veranda of the cottage at the far corner was my favourite part of this hotel. Perched upon the traditional bamboo chairs that were laid along the veranda, I could see the water move graciously while the rain poured into it. I was fascinated by the lone man on the row boat in the distance as he guided his boat across the lake lazily not bothered by the weather which had already doused him. As I watched him disappear into the distance, I enjoyed the golden fried prawns that I had been served which was a treat and spent some quality time with my steaming hot coffee.

It had been a good few hours and the weather was beginning to give me second thoughts about the room the reception had offered me earlier which I had declined. I couldn’t blame myself with evening already settling in and the climate very inviting, but I knew I had to be at my grandparents’ place in time to enjoy the roasted duck for dinner which had become a sort of ritual every time I paid them a visit. So I tackled the many puddles of water in the car park and made my way into the plush back seat of the car locking myself in. I took one last glance at the famed Kumarakom backwaters as the car drove away onto the main road.

A couple of minutes into the car ride, I was already half-asleep when I heard the song ‘Indian Rain’ by Colonial Cousins come up on the radio. I smiled to myself as I recollected memories of a trip with my family along these roads a few years back while on another visit to my grandparents’ house and this very song was playing on the radio in our old Maruti. Sitting in the front seat gazing out the window while my mother continued her conversation with my sister in the back of the car, I remember looking up through the wind shield at the trees which covered the roads with their branches in failed attempt to shelter us from the rain. Slipping into my deep slumber, I was sure the same trees were still standing along the sides of the road trying to keep the rain away. And I’m sure they still had trouble doing just that.

Running across to the taxi waiting at the other end of the car park while struggling to settle differences with the umbrella that I had clutched in one hand that was trying hard not to get me drenched in the pouring rain, I had a sudden craving, the kind that could not be justified by reason or science, to let go of the umbrella and feel the skies blessing the earth on my skin. It wasn’t that I was too emotionally attached to the umbrella which I had recently got reacquainted with, nor was it that I had kept the taxi waiting for too long and I should be well on my way elsewhere by now. In fact, the driver inside the car was dozing off while the cool weather outside took all the effort to make him feel at home within the confines of his car. Rather, it was the inhibition from the thought that I had perhaps grown too old to enjoy the simple things in life and that soaking myself in the rain when I have the option of protecting myself with an umbrella would make me look stupid to other people which refrained me from letting my inner-self make the best out of the moment. Jumping into the car, I made sure all the windows were up and that not one drop of water could seep into the car while the driver started the engine and drove away while still struggling to lose his drowsiness.

The entire afternoon could be summed up best by the words ‘peaceful’ and ‘refreshing’. It had been a while since I had last ventured out of my home. The fantastic weather outside and the welcoming bed in my room had kept me busy from a healthy social life for a couple of days now. So when I was met with the ordeal of getting myself to Kottayam to meet my grandparents, I decided it would be a great opportunity to enjoy this climate.

The monsoons have always been more than just a climate for me. It has been about emotions and a state of calm that my mind didn’t otherwise have many opportunities to enjoy. It gives us the chance to slow down for a bit and just relax and enjoy life as it happens. I have always noticed that it is during this time of the year that I have the mind to enjoy the simple things in life, like a hot cup of coffee by the balcony as I watch the rain trickle down the edges of the wall and the city take a moment to catch her breath, or watch kids run down the street playing in the rain while their mothers shout out from their houses ordering them to get back inside and not catch a cold, or better yet, halt in the middle of the street folding my umbrella as I feel the rain on my skin while people beside me sprint desperately against the charm of nature trying to get back to their busy, monotonous life before the rain pulls them out of their cycle of life for a few seconds. This season, I have come to figure, has always made me enjoy life more often and brought a smile across my face from watching and experiencing simple human emotions.

But the hot cup of coffee had always been at the top of my list on a rainy day, and neither the taxi which I had hired to take me to Kottayam nor the fear of getting drenched in the rain could stop me from enjoying my coffee today. And thus, the stopover at Saro’s Lake County was inevitable.

I had always been intrigued by the boutique leisure property along the backwaters of Kumarakom. My second time here, the view from the veranda of the cottage at the far corner was my favourite part of this hotel. Perched upon the traditional bamboo chairs that were laid along the veranda, I could see the water move graciously while the rain poured into it. I was fascinated by the lone man on the row boat in the distance as he guided his boat across the lake lazily not bothered by the weather which had already doused him. As I watched him disappear into the distance, I enjoyed the golden fried prawns that I had been served which was a treat and spent some quality time with my steaming hot coffee.

It had been a good few hours and the weather was beginning to give me second thoughts about the room the reception had offered me earlier which I had declined. I couldn’t blame myself with evening already settling in and the climate very inviting, but I knew I had to be at my grandparents’ place in time to enjoy the roasted duck for dinner which had become a sort of ritual every time I paid them a visit. So I tackled the many puddles of water in the car park and made my way into the plush back seat of the car locking myself in. I took one last glance at the famed Kumarakom backwaters as the car drove away onto the main road.

A couple of minutes into the car ride, I was already half-asleep when I heard the song ‘Indian Rain’ by Colonial Cousins come up on the radio. I smiled to myself as I recollected memories of a trip with my family along these roads a few years back while on another visit to my grandparents’ house and this very song was playing on the radio in our old Maruti. Sitting in the front seat gazing out the window while my mother continued her conversation with my sister in the back of the car, I remember looking up through the wind shield at the trees which covered the roads with their branches in failed attempt to shelter us from the rain. Slipping into my deep slumber, I was sure the same trees were still standing along the sides of the road trying to keep the rain away. And I’m sure they still had trouble doing just that.

It was a clear sunny weekday and the long ride and the fascinating landscapes along the way had led us into the intimidating and unrelenting climb up the hill to be where I was standing right then, 1269 feet above sea level with the scorching sun now dominating the afternoon sky above me and a clean breeze soothing my body which had been brought down by fatigue. The sense of accomplishment which now controlled my thinking as I looked several hundred feet down onto the rocks that grazed the slope and the many people who were fighting it out inch by inch with the hill trying to make their way to the top cleverly replaced the feeling of tiredness with a sudden jolt of energy and enthusiasm to explore the land around me. Throughout the journey here, my views and expectations about the Malayattoor Church which I was visiting for the first time kept shifting with each new experience on the way redefining it and sometimes creating a mental imagery that was utterly revolting in comparison to the real deal as I stood atop the Kurisumala finally taking in everything that this place was. My colleague had already begun the task of exploring the many buildings spread across the hill top and for once, I decided to catch up to him and not miss out on any of the action. The arch housing a lamp and an offerings box with a statue of Christ was first on our way, located almost centrally atop the cliff. From there we went to our right where there was a stall serving refreshments and we both treated ourselves to bottle of mango juice which was again like at all the other stores, not chilled. After we parted with the bottle of juice we moved across to the other end of the Kurisumala and on our way I was amazed to see the number of men and women queuing up in front of the three open confession tables lined up one after the other from which three priests had been working continuously for hours. For a moment it made me try to recollect the last time i had confessed though I couldn’t manage to remember the exact occasion. Not wanting to add too much of a spiritual dilemma into the trip, I decided to move along and thus we reached another open hall which was evidently the far corner of the shrine as along the sides of the building, all I could see was trees. We both hopped over the small gate which I guess was there just to warn people that the shrine ended here and beyond this point lay the forest. Coming around the building to stand behind the back wall of it, I was a bit disappointed with the view from here which unlike I had expected, failed to charm me. While I was bluntly looking around unimpressed by the scenery nature had to offer me here, my friend’s typical unnecessarily loud voice turned my attention towards where he was standing. While I had settled into complaining about the view, he had already gone around the building to the other corner of it and from the excitement in his voice; I imagined he had found a much more rewarding sight. Indeed he did, and for once I agreed in the back of my head that the excitement in his voice was well deserved for the splendid landscape we had walked into. To be honest, after taking in the sight, I was quickly back to my complaining self again, though this time it was because of the fact that I didn’t have a camera with me that was worthy enough to showcase the beauty that had unravelledbefore us. But we had to make do with whatever little we had and the pictures shown here are part of the view from atop the cliff. I was suddenly transported to a different emotion. The entire morning, the two of us had been moving hastily trying to get our job done and get back home, and here I was now, not wanting to move an inch or think of anything else but enjoy this view before my eyes and relax for a while. It was like this particular spot on the hill top had been blessed with absolutely everything to leave the spectator mesmerized. There were trees above our heads to cover us from the furious sun, the breeze was cool and consistent and there was silence to enjoy for a change into which the sounds of nature had drowned in. I found a fallen tree trunk sitting across the edge to settle down on and spent some quality time looking at the green beneath my legs. There was hardly any hint of civilization towards this side of the town, with just one small road curving around one of the nearby hills suggesting that there might be houses not too far away from here. I could see the outlines of the man-made lake near the parking lot at the bottom of the hill from the corner of my eye. Meanwhile, my all conquering friend tried his luck climbing down the hill from this side, though he gave up rather early this time to my surprise. Soon he took the other side of the tree trunk and we were both gazing out. After taking an oath to bring our friends here very soon and a couple more pictures, we moved on to the next building in the compound. I soon found myself in front of a rather unusual building. The brick laden wall was covered in show glass and there was a description given beside the wall. This was the ‘Elephant struck Church’ which was called so as this very wall which was the backside of the altar of a church had been struck by wild tuckers back at the time when the hill top was still covered by the forest and there were marks of the elephants tuckers on the wall which had made deep holes. Quite amused by this story, I moved onto the entrance of the church which was also the oldest chapel on the hilltop to see a mass in progress there. It was a rather young priest who was delivering the service and while I looked on I noticed the inside of the church which was decorated very subtly, especially for a church this famous. There was also a well from which the pilgrims were drawing water and drinking and also filling into bottles to be taken home. The description near the well said that St. Thomas had struck a rock here when he felt thirsty and water had gushed out of it, and since the well had been considered as holy. The two of us drank some water from the well and walked on to where the Golden Cross’ was kept. This was not the original golden cross which was believed to have comeout of the earth when tribals tried to destroy the church which in turn started the legend about the place. Rather, it was a replica of it. There were many people who spent hours praying here. As evening was approaching us, we decided to move along and not spend too much time here. As we were preparing for our descend from the hill top, the last part of the shrine caught our attention. A rather huge rock atop which St. Thomas had prayed for days and as a result his footprints had been engraved onto was on our way down. Though we weren’t able to make out the footprints which had been contained within a glass dome into which worshippers had somehow managed to find a way to drop in money as offerings, we were both taken aback by the idea of one’s footprints being engraved on to rock without any external force. The thought kept playing in my mind as we started descending down the rocks rather quickly compared to the effort it took us to climb up. Ironically though, my friend was losing his breath while descending which amused me as I found it rather odd. As the altitude kept falling, our pace began to build up and soon we were literally sprinting down the rocks. There was one particular instant where I slipped and landed on my back. The whole incident was quite funny for both my friend and the onlookers and I took it pretty lightly myself as it did not hurt one bit. Back on my feet, I was once again jumping from stone to stone until we finally made it back to the bottom of the Kurisumala. After we brought ourselves to a halt momentarily, I looked back at the hill which we had conquered and evaluated whether doing it all over again with my friends soon was worth it, and remembering the breath taking view atop the hill which I was not able to capture well using the camera I carried with me gave me the obvious answer, and happily we both walked back to where the bike had been parked. Not giving my friend a chance to fight for the keys to the bike, I started the engine and giving me a knowing look, my friend sat pillion half-heartedly. Not a big fan of the evening traffic, I decided to make the trip back home as quick as possible. I’m sure my friend disapproved of it.

The one and only trip with a touch of history that I had till date made with my friends was to the great Hill Palace located about 16 km east of Cochin at a place named Trippunithura, which is a satellite town of Cochin.We started off from Kaloor at 10am on a battalion of bikes and we reached there by 10.35am. We came across a bit of information about the museum’s scheduleswhile we were taking the entry tickets.The most important thing to know is that the museum is open on all days except Mondays and public holidays. The working hours are from 9.00 A.M. to 4.30 P.M. The admission charge is Rs.10 and Rs. 5 per adult and child respectively. The camera fee included is Rs. 20 and for video camera it is Rs. 1500.

After taking the tickets we had to walk some distance and climb a few steps to reach the palace building. We were then asked to remove our shoes before entering into the royal establishment. It is the biggest archaeological museum in Kerala and at one time the erstwhile official residence of the Kochi Royal Family. The palace was built in 1865.

A guide was accompanying us in the palace to explain everything in detail. He told us that the palace complex comprised of 49 buildings which were built in the traditional architectural style of Kerala and was surrounded by 52 acres of terraced land with ponds, fountains and lawns. Various species of flora including rare medicinal plants are grown here. The main attractions of the place is that it is a full fledged ethno archaeological museum and is also Kerala’s first ever Heritage museum.  The oldest building in the complex is a single storeyed Kerala style ‘ettukettu’ constructed in 1850 AD with a pond, temple and utuppura nearby. The other buildings are a blend of traditional and western architecture. The latest construction was a three storeyed western style building constructed in 1950 which is now functioning as the office.

In 1980, the palace was taken over by the Department Of Archaeology and later transformed into a Museum and was then opened to the public in 1986. It is set on top of a hillock,surrounded by terraced garden with fountains, ponds and lawns.The museum displays 14 categories of exhibits including paintings, sculpture in stone and plaster of paris, manuscripts, murals, inscriptions, carvings etc. In recent times, the museum has been renovated by Archaeological Department with a few additions such as a 2m wide walkway built around the palace complex lit by fancy lamps on decorated cast iron pillars and 200 lamp posts to light up the milieu during early morning and at night.

We were overwhelmed to see the collections displayed in the museum because all those were mainly from the Travancore Royal House, Paliam Devaswom and from the department of Archaeology. We also saw the gold crown embedded with precious stones and many valuable coins, ornaments, majestic beds and samples of epigraphy.  Other significant exhibits at the Hill Palace museum comprises of the 200 antique pieces of pottery and ceramic vases from China and Japan, Kudakkallu (tomb stone), menhirs, granite, Thoppikkallu (hood stone), laterite memorials, wooden temple models and rock cut weapons. The Hill palace museum also contains a gallery of contemporary art, which displays several items from the contemporary period. There is an incredible array of plaster cast models of objects too which are obtained from Mohenjo-Daro and Harappa of the Indus Valley civilization of North India.

Paliam gallery in the museum was opened in 1991 and includes the collections bestowed by the Paliyathachan’s family. Paliyathachans were the hereditary Prime Ministers to the Cochin Maharaja for a long period. The gallery of cabinet Hall exhibits royal furniture including the ‘Simhasana’, which is the throne or the king’s chair. Exhibits in the numismatic gallery comprisedenariusor roman silver coins, coins during the British period,punch marked coins etc.

In the Portrait gallery, oil portraits of the Cochin Maharaja are exhibited. This gallery also contains some Thanjavur paintings, a variety of wood carvings which are part of Enadimangalam Temple belonging to the 14th century plus unique ivory items, wooden sculptures etc are displayed in the Wood Carvings gallery of the museum. In the Weapon gallery and Sculpture gallery, old weapons collected from different places and stone sculptures ranging from 10th to 18th century are displayed.The rare bronze and silver items belonging to 14th – 16th century in the Bronze and metal ware Gallery was a wonderful piece of exhibit.

The museum’s Chariots Gallery (Raja Rada Dhrishyavedi) displayed horse Carts imported from England that belonged to Maharajas of Travancore and Folklore. Similarly, the Folk Arts gallery contained some old musical instruments and clay models. The crown and jewel Gallery which was opened in 2001 was a magnificent view to all our eyes. This gallery contains about 197 items such as the Royal Crown and gold ornaments decorated with precious stones. This is usually opened to the public only on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays and since we made our trip on a Friday, we could see those.

The trip to Ezhattumgham with my friends was quite the fabulous experience for all of us. We traveled in an SUV due to the hilly terrain and rough roads. The time we spent on the road was fun as we entertained ourselves singing songs and cracking jokes.One of the most attractive tourist destinations nearest to Kochi, the 35 km drive via the Athirapally route didn’t take long. The sparkling water of the Chalakuddi River was a great way to spend some time relaxing after the drive. The fun that we had there was a semblance of scenic beauty to all of us. There cannot be one person who has never enjoyed the splendor and radiance of a waterfall. The water bodies here lend a serene touch to those witnessing them. This had thus made all of us spellbound and absolutely mesmerized. That should be how this beautiful, greenish, riverbank place has made its way into many films.

For adventurous travelers like us, this was a little known picnic spot on the outskirts of Kochi. But reaching there we were glad to find that the place had natural water falls, small rivulets, offshore surrounded by rich flora and fauna where visitors could rest.The water trickling down the rocks was refreshing to both the mind and the body. After spending sometime in the water, we had our lunch which we had carried with us. There was a snack bar open at the entrance from where we had bought our food earlier in the evening.

The river had rocks in between which helped us to move from one spot to another by jumping and climbing over them which made it all the more adventurous. The milky waterfall at Ezhattumgham is not visible from the distant shore. It is risky to move here by crossing over the strata of rocks even during the summer season when the water level falls unless one is vigilant. So we were advised to enjoy the beauty of the water bursting from the shore. Even if the water level is below your hamstrings, the gap between the rocks may be slippery and fathom so even a good swimmer may not be able to with stand and may tide out of the strong water currents here. Hence the tourists here are always advised not to step into the water especially after consuming alcohol. There were security guards at vital points so that complete safety was ensured to all the tourists.

This patch in the green ranges is so beautifully intertwined with a lush green forest cover and sizzling silver cascades which turned out as a treat for all our eyes.As we were about to wrap up our trip by 4 in the evening, we were blessed with the sight of a beautiful rainbow between the water and the strata of rocks which was soon followed by a heavy rain which forced us to rush into the snack bar and wait there until the rain retreat. Meanwhile, we all had hot coffee from the snack bar which too was fabulous because who wouldn’t enjoy something hot in the midst of such a cool weather and scenic beauty. None of us would ever forget this natural reception in our life.

My weekend was set to go down in the books as the kind that would be remembered for the rest of my life. Here I was, only one amongst the thousands of enthusiastic and mesmerised people from around the globe who had assembled here on this day to witness this truly spectacular event. I had lost track of the mighty tuskers who stood tall amongst the rest of us, decorated in all their glory with their ‘nettipattams’. The flock of percussionists who had been playing their traditional ‘chenda’ in rhythmic perfection to the tune of the ‘kombu’ (musical instrument) who led the auditory extravaganza had dominated the air over us with the sheer volume of their instruments. And if all that wasn’t enough, there were the fireworks which lit up the sky and painted it in all sorts of colours for what seemed like an eternity, all the while adding to the noise my ears had been subjected to for the past few hours. With so much going on around me, it was only natural that I was left bewildered by this grand spectacle that I had invested my weekend into.

While I kept spinning around in circles shifting my eyes from one wonder to another, I noticed the mass of foreigners who, like me had come down to Thrissur to be a part of the famed Thrissur Pooram who were yet to give their camera a breather. Much like me, they had been fascinated by this display of absolute coordination that was being showcased by the talented men who had been charming our ears all throughout the evening, while the elephants proudly reminded us that the effort wasn’t all human, and colours filling up the sky in splendour made me think the people who were lighting the fireworks were painters. Who could blame these tourists for not giving their shutters a rest and wanting to save each of these moments forever after their perspective and imagination about cultural beauty had just been redefined.

Wanting to see the procession of the evening up close, I pushed past the crowd that was thick around me and moved forward. Once I had found ground from where I could comfortably view everything, I couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the beautiful Keralite women who were dressed in elegant traditional sarees who led the procession with the vase of floral decorations having the lamp in the centre which exemplified the beauty of their faces, making them glow in shades of orange and yellow, which was coupled with the wonderful subtle smile that they carried with them.

The way my heart felt watching this majestic event unfold could only be described by the awestruck expressions of the children who had settled comfortably over their fathers shoulders, laughing from the amusement that the origami windmill clutched in their tiny hands gave them. I was amused and spell bound this evening, delighted by what I was witnessing and my heart had lightened up.

This suddenly seemed to me like an opportunity for the child in me to run free and appreciate the human efforts and natural beauty which otherwise slipped past our eyes in this fast paced world. I took it all in, wanting to frame everything I saw in front of my eyes here for the rest of my life, as a reminder to self as to why I need to come back here next year.

And for all of you who did miss out on this festivity this year, join me next year and I promise you that you are never going to need another reminder about this grand fiesta ever again.