After a long but incredibly beautiful journey, I arrived late at my destination β Fort Kochi. Fort Kochi is the beautiful, charming cousin of mainland Kochi, known for its blend of Dutch, French and Portuguese architecture. My room was spartan yet tasteful under a roof of red clay tiles.
As I stared at the ceiling, attempting sleep, I noticed that the tiles had been made by an enterprising Britisher named J. J Morgan, in my ancestral town of Mangalore. I learnt subsequently from my father that my great grand father had also been a tile manufacturer β a man of great wealth, he was more British in his ways than Indian, and was often with monocle and in a three-piece suit. The Great Depression reduced him to penury, and his son, my grandfather, passed his exams studying beneath the light of street lamps.
I fell into a deep sleep only to be jolted upright a few hours later by the sound of rain water beating down on my charming old roof. Morning brought with it light and perspective. I appreciated that it was precisely the kind of torrential rain from the night before, that when mixed with magic soil produced banana,coconut, jackfruit, mango, tea, pepper, and cardamom. I learned later that clever farmers realising that the local climate could support more exotic fruits, had begun to grow fruits such as rambutan, mango steen, and passion fruit.
The air hung heavy with fecundity, and as I walked around the still-wet streets of Kochi, the moss on the walls seemed to multiply before my eyes. I walked up and down Bazaar Road, where shops with the suffixes Merchants, Agents, or Brothers were filled to the ceiling with sealed bags of mysterious goods. Later that night, my much awaited reunion came to be and my friend, his wife, and I shared a meal involving various kinds of spiced fish carefully wrapped in banana leaves.
Forgotten stories of the 21 year old me came to life, and my faith in second beginnings was restored. The next morning I ferried my way to Ernakulam β the trees had disappeared, replaced with blocks of cement masquerading as stores. I stayed at Niyati Boutique Stay, basic yet tasteful and charming. What to eat: Hotel Rahmaniya in Ernakulam serves the spiciest most delicious plate of chicken served with Roti indian flatbread.
