In 2009, almost 15 years ago, I embarked on a nostalgic journey back to my hometown, Kozhikkod, along with my late friend Hansil Dabhi. We also visited Munnar with my classmates, making it a memorable trip down memory lane. At that time, I had written a piece about the experience to submit to my university. Surprisingly, while searching for a letter I wrote on a performance art installation to Dabhi yesterday, this particular write-up unexpectedly popped up! Much water had flown in Chaliar river after this piece was written, but interestingly, the observation that money and gold and not ideology dominates Kerala's political landscape proved to be if not futuristic but a curious reality. For those who are interested in a pun-laden write-up about nostalgic trips
A Journey back home to God’s own country :
As the train departed from Kankanadi, the final station in the Konkan stretch, my almost monotonous life in Ahmedabad came to an abrupt halt, and the long-awaited escape from planned living began. This journey back home from my second home was not the first, and it might not be the last, but every time the train welcomed the first breeze of Kerala, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, carrying me to long-lost memories.
My fellow traveller, Hansil Dabhi, seemed fed up with the artificial cold and the tinted glass windows of the Rajdhani, often seeking natural fresh air near the compartment door. His camera captured the excitement that the lush green world offered outside. Meanwhile, my six-year-old daughter and a child from the neighbouring coupe were equally thrilled about meeting their grandparents. They had countless things to boast about their home, filled with dreams, imagination-laden conversations, and a sprinkling of fibs and fantasies that only childhood could conjure.
In about three and a half hours, we would pass through Kannapuram, the place where my mother was born and raised. A mere three kilometres away was Panthottam, my father's birthplace. My mother was the fifth child in a family of eight, and her father worked as a TTR in the Indian Railway. Compared to my father's family, who were feudal lords, bourgeois in communist terminology, my mother's family belonged to the middle class. They were among the many descendants who owned a whole village. The story was no different in other parts of the modern-day Kannur district, where the Nambiar clans of various lineages owned most of the land. The oppressive feudal system in these regions eventually gave rise to communism on equal footing. Until the recent election, these areas remained strongholds of communism.
This part of Malabar, a treasure land of folk arts and craft, was distinct from other parts of Kerala until the late eighties, as it remained insulated from the rapid developments happening elsewhere. However, everything changed dramatically after the Gulf boom began in the eighties. The affluence from the land of oil not only transformed the landscape but also the landholding and social structures. The Muslim community, once economically and socially marginalized, gained significant influence, to the extent that community approval during elections became crucial for any candidate's victory in Kannur, regardless of their party affiliation.
During the train journey, the attendant seemed to conveniently forget to serve our ice cream, juice, and other dishes from the menu, only recalling when we asked for the complaint book. My fellow "family traveller" attributed their selective amnesia to a racist comment on the "Bihariisation of Rajdhani" attendants. As a Mallu and a Gujju, we were unsure how to respond, but we simply nodded our heads in bewilderment.
At ten thirty, the train finally halted for its five-minute stoppage at Calicut station, already delayed by an hour. We were back home once again...
Calicut is renowned for its auto rickshaws, not because they are different in shape or numbers, but because their drivers are reputed for their honesty. Legends about their good behavior are widespread. However, as the eighties became 2009, no autos were willing to take us home. Most of them found my house, situated in the heart of the city, too far for them at that odd hour! Eventually, the one who agreed to take us charged double the usual rate!
Welcome to Kerala... God's own country.
Calicut, a nostalgic journey:
Calicut holds a significant place in history as a pivotal trade hub that played a role in shaping Asia's destiny. People from all corners of the world flocked to this city to engage in international business, resulting in geopolitical and business interests intertwining. Arabians, Dutch, Portuguese, and British all vying for their share of the business, while the shrewd Samurians, the Kozhikode royalty, manipulated them for their kingdom's advantage. Amidst this bustling scene, one community settled and flourished without much controversy—the Gujarati community, often referred to as "Setu."
Interestingly, Calicut witnessed the arrival of Islam during the Prophet's time, making it one of the first cities in the world outside of Arabia to experience the faith. Many in Calicut claim to be direct descendants of the Prophet, adding to the city's rich tapestry of history.
Throughout the British era, Calicut thrived with industries like wood and Basel Mission's tile industry, in addition to its spice trade. However, much of that glory has faded with time. The once-dominating Gujarati financiers and businessmen, who occupied the complete sea-facing area, are now almost a historical memory. Today, there are fewer than five hundred Gujarati families remaining, bearing the tag "Gujarati" while feeling disconnected from Gujarat, their ancestral land.
As banks and Tamil Chettiyars took over the finance business, the affluence of Gulf money drew away other trades from the Gujarati community. Many families migrated to Europe and America, leaving behind a fading legacy. When the last teashop “Bombay Hotel” that sold "Kutchi Tea" made way for a trendy hotel last year, it marked yet another chapter of history curling into slow decline.
Calicut is a city with a myriad of facets, showcasing its diverse character in every corner. On one side, there are individuals like "Wahab," for whom an entire branch of Standard Chartered Bank operated with over fifty employees. On the other side, it proudly claims to be the home of two "Jnanpith awardees," the esteemed novelist Late SK Pottekkad and Sh. MT Vasudevan Nair. Additionally, it boasts a lineage of renowned filmmakers, including the late Sh. Ramu Kariat, late Sh. PA Baker, late John Abraham, and Sh. MT Vasudevan Nair, who chose Calicut as their abode.
Calicut has also played a significant role in India's freedom struggle, nurturing towering leaders like K Kellappan, Sh. KP Keshava Menon, and VK Krishna Menon. The city was a hotbed of activism, and even the influential newspaper "Mathrubhumi," a prominent voice during the freedom struggle, began its journey in Calicut.
In addition to these nationally renowned awardees, the city continues to be a host to numerous renowned artists, environmental activists, publishers, businessmen, and other esteemed individuals.
Yet, amidst these intriguing tales, many lesser-known stories of Calicut go unnoticed. Sitting on a concrete beach bench at the end of the day, one can witness the sight of the broken and abandoned port bridge being constantly assaulted by the relentless waves. Meanwhile, families adorned in European perfumes and designer clothes step out of their SUVs to enjoy a pleasant evening by the beach.
As the evening call to prayer from a distant mosque fills the air, it is briefly interrupted by a Bollywood hit mobile ringtone, reminding us of the blend of tradition and modernity in this vibrant city.
“Koi kahein…kehta rahein…
Hum hein nayein …andaaz hein kyon purana….”
The sexuality of glitter :
For Hansil Dabhi, an eccentric architect hailing from Gujarat, the concept of gold had always been associated with females. So, it was quite a shock for him to witness a twist of fate when he noticed that all the gold jewellery advertisements were featuring male models! The towering hoardings showcased superstars like Mammootty and Mohanlal adorned with splendid gold necklaces and ornaments. From Jayaram to Murali, the list of male stars modelling for saris and jewellery seemed endless. In a land once celebrated for feminism and matrilineal systems, the irony was not lost on him. Kerala, the place where women used to be at the forefront, now witnesses ladies buying gold in kilos, with the approval and blessings of their male counterparts.
Amusingly, there were even instances of girls experiencing strained necks after their wedding day, burdened by the weight of the gold they wore. The lords of the gold business seemed to know the Malayalee ladies well, realizing that they may dismiss their husbands but never their beloved matinee idols. Under the influence of these stars, women were persuaded to purchase gold, if not in tons, then at least in quintals, as advised. Interestingly, an urban trend of men's jewellery was also shaping up, and many Malayalee men were keen on receiving a "male mangal sutra" of gold from the prospective bride's family during marriage ceremonies since the nineties. They took pride in showcasing this possession by leaving the first two buttons on their shirts open, making their sentiment public.
One couldn't deny the benefits of hundred percent literacy and education in Kerala, but it seemed that the glitter of gold had now overshadowed all else.
The bar- gained booze :
If you ever can't find a Malayalee man where he's expected to be, you're likely to find him at the bar. In recent years, during the Santosh Trophy, Kerala and some other states, including Punjab, sought revenge on New Year's Day. Kerala proudly took the title away from Punjab for liquor consumption. On that day, less than 2 crore Malayalee men consumed over 500 crore worth of liquor. Bravo to the brave hearts!
Once you pass the 10th standard, attending a "Thanni party" or initiation ceremony becomes almost a mandatory ritual that few would forego. From there, the journey into the world of booze begins. For Malayalee men, anything and everything becomes an occasion to indulge. Most of them don't even know the word "sip"; they simply gulp it down.
At the end of the day, many find solace either in suicide or in liver failures. However, we cannot solely blame Malayalee men for this phenomenon. In a society where schools have become competitive production centres with little room for sports or other entertainment, spaces like libraries, cultural clubs, and football grounds have given way to commercial buildings. This leaves the least space-consuming liquor bottle as the best "bar-gained" entertainment option for them. And so, they embrace it.
Thanks to the booming booze business, among the youth in Kerala, Lord Ayyappa has become a favourite god, much like how "God-embedded" tiles became popular in upper India due to public squatters and pan eaters. During the two months of the temple opening from November to January, many of them adhere to the strict 41 days of "wove" (abstinence) to escape from liquor.
"Swamiye Sharanam Ayyappa...!!!"
Musical mooring :
In the North East, Indian Idol was a long-standing addiction, along with the drug menace. In Kerala, however, the addiction has taken a different tune – it's all about musical reality shows. With around 18 Malayalam TV channels airing such shows, the state is now in the midst of complete musical chaos. You'll find children fiercely competing for the little master title on one channel, while those below thirty fight for the idea star singer title on another. Housewives have their own battleground too.
People across the state discuss ragas, sruti, and the renditions of participants as passionately as if they were discussing their family member's health condition. Elimination day turns homes into "ICU" like conditions. However, amidst this musical saga, the biggest victims are the parents and husbands of the participants. These shows not only rely on merit but also on "the valued SMS participation," which comes at a cost of Rs. 5 per SMS. Many families end up in ruins and debt due to their involvement in these reality shows.
While Malayalee homes eagerly await their daily dose of raga euphoria, and participants get eliminated through SMS votes, TV channels and telephone companies are reaping profits during the global recession. The compositions of Thyagaraja Swamiyar, which were once symbols of eternal bliss, now contribute to the downfall of Malayalee families, all for the sake of TRP ratings. Despite the repercussions, the kitchen gossip now includes discussions about "kalyanis and khambojis" as easily as the next-door neighbor's name.
Epic-doses of episodes
Years back, in the precise eighties, when people of my age paid ten rupees to see the magical box called television in an exhibition, none of us could have imagined that one day it would become the soul mate of Malayalee elders. With most of their children away in other parts of the world earning their livelihoods, the aged parents find solace in the tear-jerker serials airing on eighteen and odd channels. These open-ended serials, lacking logical beginnings or conclusions, are said to be responsible for the drain of glycerin from the global market. Already burdened with loneliness, these elderly souls now have another reason to be disturbed – their tear-pumping heroes and heroines!
The impact of these serials is such that one elderly lady recently slapped a TV serial villain in public when she encountered him on a train.
On a related note, it is said that Kerala is planning to sue Balaji's sas-bahu serials for copyright infringement. They claim that the K-serials of Balaji borrowed their plot from Kerala, which was otherwise copyrighted by Kerala's political leaders. The saga of Congress's Antony vs. Karunakaran, lasting for thirty and odd years, has now been passed on to Achutanandan and Pinarayee. They feel cheated that Balaji's did not even give them title credits for this most successful sas-bahu plot of theirs…
Munnar and more
When we returned from the Munnar trip, a trip that gave six of us, the old classmates a reason to travel down memory lanes, the Communist party had its worst defeat in Kerala during the parliament election. Although the evergreen political discussions of Malayalees are still going on channels and teashops about the reasons for this defeat, for the rest of us it was very clear- Kerala has changed. It is not any more the land of classes. Big money is floating across this landscape. I am not sure whether this land is God’s own country, but I am sure it overflows with money. They have learned the art of making money and also have learned to splurge it. The never-ending “Queues” s at wine shops where the cheapest one would cost not less than two hundred rupees a pint, and jewellery shops where 8 grams cost more than twenty thousand rupees tells no other story. You will never find a poor in a dirty dress if it is a Malayalee. If at all you find one, it would be a Tamilian, Orieite, Bengali or a Rajasthani who are trying their luck in this land of Gold’s own country. No wonder the poor comrades now travel in SUVs and flaunt Mac computers. No wonder their Bengali counterpart has lost their sleep reading “Das Capital” million times to find such a solution to Nandigram.
Malayalee is a globalised capitalist now. They understand and accept only foreign things. Even the diseases that they flaunt are from capitalist countries. Japan, Korea, America, Briton, Netherlands…welcome to changed Kerala, the Gold’s own country.
While standing in queue before the day break for a Tatkal return railway ticket, I stood like an alien in my own land who still believes Gandhi’s gram swaraj is the solution for India. And my struggle now would be to find a village the gram in Kerala!
Narendra Raghunath
