“Well, it’s hot, humid and I’m in a phenomenally miniature room, where I hope to spend the coming night. I’m in Calicut….” These are the first few lines from my diary that I wrote on December 22nd, the day I set out for a trip from Bangalore, along the Eastern coast, beginning from Kozikode or Calicut down to the southernmost tip of India, Kanyakumari, and then up along the western coast all the way up to Pondicherry and back. Accompanying me on this road trip, extending a little over 2000 kilometers, was my not-too-old 350 cc Enfield, an old borrowed rug sack tied precariously to the rear end of the seat and my video camera.
Having never rode long distances before; I sensibly started early on a Monday morning, the first day of my two week long break at college. The bike felt good and the air refreshing and it took me barely any time to get to a comfortable pace. I started along the nicely paved six lane highway leading to Mysore, which after I had crossed the old laid back city, changed into a single lane road lined on both sides by a row of big old green trees. The traffic was sparse and it almost totally dissolved as I entered the Bandipur national park riding through which I was to cross into Kerela. I remember riding on reserve fuel through the dense vegetation on either side, at full throttle in order to make it to the nearest petrol pump which came only after a discomforting 20 kilometers.
Kerela for me holds the promise of a riding heaven, with roads that run along hills and waterways, the thick green of palms, bamboos and banana groves surrounding you and a gentle breeze that flows all through. Early in the evening I reached Kozikode or Calicut, an old port town. After dumping my baggage hurriedly at a not so welcoming lodge, I set out for the beach on foot. Apart from an old church and a wooden mosque there is not much of historical relevance there, but it was the old architecture of the emptying wholesale market, a street through which led me to the beach, that intrigued me the most, for its slanting roofs tiles in red giving one an image from a R. K. Narayan novel. The next day, had Kochi, as my destination and riding through some outrageous traffic given the peak tourist season with my fair share of close calls and a multitude of memorable sights I landed there in the afternoon. The city at first glance, to me seemed like any other with blaring horns and roads choked with traffic but my 25 kilometers ride to the white sands of Cherian beach that evening, leading me through backwaters, fish markets and some of the most colorful architecture I have ever seen, made a different impression making me decide to stay in the city a day longer. My decision did not let me down as the next day I rode through Jew Street, a unique sort of bazaar in an old Jewish settlement, to Fort Kochi. Only there was no fort there, instead what welcomed me was rows of Enormous Chinese fishing nets being used for centuries, and St. Francis Church, built in the 16th century it is the oldest European church in India and is one of the first living remains of the arrival of Christianity in the country, a structure which actually housed the remains of Vasco De Gama for a brief period of time. Also to visit in the vicinity were the Dutch palace now turned into a museum of sorts that housed some magnificent wall paintings of instances in the Ramayana. On my way back to the hotel I also saw a synagogue, the first I’ve ever seen. It was a small old structure with numerous glass lamps hanging down from its ceiling and a not so friendly caretaker. As I still had an evening at hand I wandered through the by lanes of the market opposite Marine Drive overflowing with its evening crowd and the smell of spices being sold everywhere.
The fourth day was to lead me to Tiruvanathapuram the capital. It was Christmas and along the way were numerous churches decorated brightly for the occasion. Somewhere along the way I decided to ride further on to Kanyakumari, but I did cross through the silent winding lanes of Tiruvananthapuram, an easy, almost aloof city marked with wide open spaces and its beautiful churches. The next stop was the beach in Kollam. On the edge of this ancient port town along the Malabar Coast, it was an almost empty stretch of sand along the clear blue waters of the Arabian Sea gleaming under the afternoon sun. Riding along NH-47, I next stopped at the famous Kovalam beaches of Kerela, alive with the activity of a full-fledged tourist attraction these beaches had their fair share of visitors with the usual- water sports, vendors and parking spaces and in general resembled much of the more commercial beaches of Goa. But they had their own scenic beauty with coconut trees almost touching the sea at places. To make it to Kanyakumari also called Cape Comorin, before nightfall I hurried on. The ride into this small town that lives primarily on its tourists has literally ‘ ride to the edge of the world’ feel to it. As one rides more and more downhill, the vegetation around gives way to more and more lakes and swamps as the road eventually leads to a Kilometer long stretch marked by numerous lodges and food joints on either side finally coming to an end, leaving you facing the infinite water ahead. This is Kanyakumari where the waters of the Bay of Bengal, Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean merge. As I made my way squeezing through numerous devotees draped in black lungis (who evidently I would encounter again and again through my trip), along a narrow path, it opened onto the coast, a wide rocky arena of rocks, temples and sand leading into the water. A little farther in the rough waters were visible the twin peaks, a set of rocks butting out of the sea half a mile away from the coast, on one of which is the Vivekananda memorial the place where the 19th century saint from Calcutta swam to and sat in meditation while on the other stands the recently erected 133 feet tall statue of the Tamil saint-poet Thiruvalluvar. The only way to these is by means of ferries, small old and rusted overcrowded boats that run to and fro between the coast and the twin rocks, and so I boarded one early next morning but only after I had witnessed the magnificent Cape Comorin sunrise, standing amidst a crowd of hundreds who hailed and clapped as the first rays of the sun fell on the dark sea. The hotel I stayed in was one right across the road from the beach, a place I happened to find after much wandering and hunting for a room given the peak tourist season and the police guidelines not to give any rooms to single people. However the room I did get after much pleading with the owner had a giant tree trunk growing on one end, a small bed and a tin roof
The same afternoon without wasting much time I headed out for Ramanathapuram a small town about 50kms from Rameshwaram and this time I chose not to take the national highway but a partially complete road that ran all along the eastern coast. A few kilometers on the road and one enters as if into a whole new world with grasslands replacing the thick vegetation and with no trees to act as a barricade the winds here blow at a phenomenal pace, almost as if trying to force you off the road and this is the reason why for a few kilometers hundreds of windmills can be seen alongside the road for as far as the eye can see. After crossing Tuticorin, an old port town, the road virtually disappeared into gravel and mud along the side of which for miles were moulds of salt along small ponds from which the salt is extracted. Asking locals to guide me along and riding an extra 50 kilometers due to the total absence of any milestones I reached Ramanathapuram covered in mud late into the night. The next morning I headed for Raameshwaram one of the four Tirtha Sthalas of India. The Raameshwaram temple while much like the Meenaxi temple in structure is built right on the coast. It is a large structure beautifully engraved in stone and is the center, on the sides of which is the small town called Raameshwaram. Surrounding the temple are old lodges and resting houses some of which have been there for hundreds of years. Behind the temple stands the math of Shankaracharya colored in orange, facing the sea. When seen on a map a thin strip extends from Raameshwaram eventually leading into the sea. This is Dhanush Kodi a 25km long strip of land along which according to the Ramayana, Rama walked with his armies, when on his way to Sri-Lanka, to wage war on Ravana, and it is from the edge of this piece of land that the bridge to Lanka was built- a bridge many say is still visible today. Though I did not see the bridge I was content given the extraordinary ride, the road separated only by short bushes from the water on both sides and the vast blue sea at its end.
Next was to be Pondicherry, the last stop on my journey where I reached traveling through the beautiful city of temples Chidambram. A strange incident happened while I was almost a hundred kilometers from Chidambram. I had parked my bike on the roadside and stood there smoking a cigarette as usual not looking at anything in particular, as an old man wearing an orange robe riding a bicycle stopped by and spoke to me for quite a while and in good proper English, talking about all sorts of things such as how he was planning a celebration in a school in the nearing town for the new years, and inquiring as to where I was from, what was my mother tongue etc. However what really struck me when he had left was the fact that I had not spoken at length to anyone since the past seven days. Anyhow a little discomforted but all in all hopeful I continued. Pondicharry was a welcome sight with its open beaches, its French Quarter-a maze of small lanes alongside which stood splendid specimens of French architecture, its restaurants and Café’s and a healthy overdose of foreign tourists. However what was recommended to be visited and where I headed directly, was Auroville, a large ashram of sorts a little out of town, established by Aurobindo Ghosh. A place where people from different nationalities live together in harmony, living an almost isolated, self-sufficient existence. I also visited Aurobindo Ashram a small villa near the beach which houses the scholar’s library and a brilliant gallery of pictures. After a refreshing calm stay in the city I headed on the 31st back for Bangalore riding through the rocky landscape of Tamil Nadu into the hills surrounding Krishnagiri. And finally on the eve of the new year I was back, with the lingering thought of so much more that I could have seen, the temples and mountains and beaches and sights that I did not see but there was also a contentment, a calm that stayed with me at least for a few following days.
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