| Tuesday, December 12, 2006 |
| From Delhi to Kerala and back |
One Reddy with rings on most of his fingers, the president of some association of builders in Andhra Pradesh sat next to me. Brown land lay below, first of AP and then TN.
And there appeared a series of mountain ranges, black and scattered, and I sat up and stared down. (Sorry if I sound corny from now on - this is my blog, after all - and if you are my wife passing uncharitable comments, PHTTHHBBT!!). White clouds bundled up against them on one side like froth, sometimes bubbling over to the Kerala side. On the other side, greenery erupted. I have turned up my nose at greenery at most places I have seen in Maharashtra like Matheran or Murud or Panchgani, even Lansdowne, but the Kerala greenery is another thing altogether.
The approach to the Kochi airport makes you feel like you are gonna land in a coconut grove. The plane followed a medium sized river, packed with trees of all variety on either side, and then suddenly in the middle of what looked like a jungle, we touched down and an airport terminus styled in the old nalukettu style sprouted up. Yes, I had seen it earlier, but it was still a nice thing to see.
Once in the car which had come to pick me up, I looked around - and the abundance of green and bright sunshine hits me in the eye. Green and greener and dark and darker it went, the roads were reasonably smooth like a mallu heroine's tummy, and people in check shirts and lungis casually draped walked by, looking like they owned the state. They do, I guess. After the slightly sheepish, long-suffering look of the lower classes in Delhi, the obvious confidence of the lower class Malayalee was striking. Hail commies.
The taxi driver was a delight too. I am not a natural talker, but have been talking to people like I am making up for the years of shy silence. In the next two hours, we discussed politicians, elections, private sector and tourism, schools and students, the ever-boiling Mullaperiyar dam controversy between Kerala and Tamil Nadu, was pointed out temples and churches and old bridges and told the right way to drive down a hairpin-infested incline... and I sat there and responded in my best Kanjirappally-accented Malayalam. When we reached home, he happily explained to my Acha (dad) that as we were talking animatedly all the way, we didn't bother to stop somewhere en route for refreshments. There it was. Proof that I am a damn good fake - indistinguishable from a real talker. I rock. |
| posted by a correspondent @ 5:22 AM |
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