Once, we three, Vasudevan, Ranjith and myself, were together at my wife’s house, Muthukurssi mana,at Shoranur.
It was summer vacation, time for our annual pigrimage to Keralam.
I was no more young, but the spirit of adventure refuses to die. I suggested the Bharathapuzha for our evening walk.
We first walked along the rail track in the direction towards Mangalore .
Crossing the fields, we reached the river and climbed down the bank.
Being summer, there was no flow in the river, but patches of wet sand made it difficult to proceed.
Slowly, it began to get dark. For long stretches of the river bank on our side, there were wild growth of thorny shrubs (something like pineapple, but much bigger in size; its “trunk” is used for making brushes for white washing of houses, we call it kaitha).
Vasudevan was our guide. He became unsure as darkness descended. It began to drizzle. I cursed myself for suggesting this walk.
At last, we climbed up the bank where there was some clearance. It happened to be a Muslim cottage. They were praying inside and we crossed the plot like thieves.
After entering the narrow path connecting individual houses, we reached the panchayat road. Then Vasudevan led us confidently to the house of their relative, Kollumuttath mana. Their father’s sister’s husband, very old but healthy, was doing sandhyavandanam. His wife came out and was surprised to see us, drenched in rain, at that odd hour.
She made hot tea, which I enjoyed like never before.
I was no more young, but the spirit of adventure refuses to die. I suggested the Bharathapuzha for our evening walk.
We first walked along the rail track in the direction towards Mangalore .
Crossing the fields, we reached the river and climbed down the bank.
Being summer, there was no flow in the river, but patches of wet sand made it difficult to proceed.
Slowly, it began to get dark. For long stretches of the river bank on our side, there were wild growth of thorny shrubs (something like pineapple, but much bigger in size; its “trunk” is used for making brushes for white washing of houses, we call it kaitha).
Vasudevan was our guide. He became unsure as darkness descended. It began to drizzle. I cursed myself for suggesting this walk.
At last, we climbed up the bank where there was some clearance. It happened to be a Muslim cottage. They were praying inside and we crossed the plot like thieves.
After entering the narrow path connecting individual houses, we reached the panchayat road. Then Vasudevan led us confidently to the house of their relative, Kollumuttath mana. Their father’s sister’s husband, very old but healthy, was doing sandhyavandanam. His wife came out and was surprised to see us, drenched in rain, at that odd hour.
She made hot tea, which I enjoyed like never before.
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