Monday, January 19, 2015

When in Kerala

Having lived in close to thirteen towns and cities throughout my life, it's become difficult for me to answer the inevitable
"Where are you from?" question. I sometimes settle for Kochi; even though I've really only lived there for two years and Delhi is the city I've lived the longest in at a stretch of time. Yet, in Delhi, I still feel like a migrant; an observer looking at the city from the outside. I love the city, but with each visit to Kochi, my affection for it grows deeper and with each return to Delhi, my heart inevitable sinks at the first sight of it through the airplane window. Here are a few sketches from my last visit to Kerala.  

At Wayanad: God's own country prospers due to money that is sent in from the NRI's
who are hardly mentioned in the media; the ones in the middle east.

Wayanad: Near Sultan Batheri; the place where Tipu Sultan's battery (place where
weapons are kept) existed.

Wayanad

Calicut

River bank: Bharatapuzha, Kuttipuram

Kochi blues brothers: The infamous 'blue shirt' labourers of Kerala

Kochi bus stop

At fort Kochi

#whyloiter. I visited the Kochi Muziris biennale and loitered around a lot on my own, looking at art and admiring the beautiful buildings and trees of Fort Kochi. On one of the days when the heat was getting the better of me I stopped by to drink some tender coconut water. I think the old man who sold the coconut to me found me rather amusing.
The biennale was wonderful. It was so nice to see art being accessible to everyone. Fort Kochi was full of curious visitors; apart  from artists, there were students from schools and colleges, folks with regular office jobs, naval cadets and officers, sweet old couples in mundus and saris and even nuns and priests who could be seen looking at massive artworks with wonder and inquisitiveness   

Tiny carol singer

On the way to Erumely, Kottayam. The shabarimala season was on.

Back in Kochi, luck is waiting to be sold

And the red flags still exist 

Father Pillion: Kochi . I feel lucky to have been born in such a diverse country. Homogeneity would be so bloody boring.

And there was also time spent with the family: The sister

The niece

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