Clueless in Kokkothamangalam!!!

One of my favourite destinations whenever I am in Kerala is my dad’s village. Its called Kokkothamangalam. Even Wikimapia zoomed to its maximum could see it only as a hazy blur.

Kokkothamangalam is a pretty complicated name for a small place. And as ever there is something about names and Kerala. The folk there can have names as cryptic as Jiji, Shibu, Joji, Liju etc. basically anything with 2 syllables. But the names of the places can make your tongue explore areas of the mouth you never knew existed – Parappanangaadi, Kadappakada, Kalamassery, Pathanamthitta et al.

One of the first things that strike you about the place is the stunning variety of flora around. You have every shade of green imaginable gawking at you, and for someone who has spent a lot of time in northern India, like me, it can be overwhelmingly beautiful. Unfortunately, trees are not the only things gawking at you. You see, it’s the kind of village where everyone knows everyone else and his granny. So the moment they see someone who is not familiar they make sure that they stare at them long enough out of sheer curiosity as if the act of staring itself would aid there memory. And you embarrassed, instinctively check if the zip is in place!

The village folk are simple, untouched by the grossness of the cities. And they don’t find it embarrassing to ask personal details about you. What is just harmless information gathering would look like unnecessary intrusiveness to us. It’s a mistrust born out of a lifetime in cities.

Passerby – engotta? (Where are you going?)

Me – Going to that mall opposite the airport. Coming?
Me (drawing a parabola of my lips) – Punathichira (that’s my dad’s place).

Passerby – Punathichirayil evide? ( Where in Punathichira?)

Me – Pardon me for the insolence but how the heck does that concern you?
Me – Mr Mukundan’s home (that’s my dad’s brother)

Passerby – Oooooo, Sheri! (Alright)

Me – Thanks for granting me the permission. The total absence of bureaucracy is appreciated.
Me – Sheri!

The worst part is when they actually know you and you don’t know them. And they would be hell bent on getting you to remember them.

Passerby – Aren’t you Prakashan’s son?

Me – Am I not supposed to be?
Me (lips drawing a sine wave this time) - Yes

Passerby – Remember me?

Me – With the amount of shrubbery on your face it would be better if you carry an ID card along.
Me – (sheepish smile) No

Passerby – Don’t you remember we went to Sabarimala together a few years back with your dad?

Me – Uh Oh, Aren’t you the fellow who drooled at the sight of every passing arrack shop?
Me – (Lips trace back a parabola) Yeah remember now. (Sigh!!!)

I am still unable to come to terms with this kind of bonhomie shown by people who are strangers to you for all practical purposes.

I tend to go there for short bursts of a few days. It’s a great place to be in for say 10 days, when you want to take a break from the race for career, wealth, relationships, happiness etc etc However, anytime beyond that and the inactivity gnaws at you. The rats that we are we have to get back to the race… Unfortunate!