I miss Kottayam.. I miss its crowded streets swarming with world’s rudest people you will ever find, who would never smile and stare at you for most random things, like being too happy for instance, and hate you for it.. I miss its dirty, dusty, noisy and packed roads with earsplitting honking which drives me to nightlong headaches.. I miss that stupid ghee rice with chicken curry, which they call Biriyani, making it evident that they do not know how to cook Biriyani at all! I miss those impatient, arrogant people who would step on your feet and curse you for placing it under their sandals in packed buses. I miss the harsh way in which strangers, especially old women, call you ‘Koche’ to get your attention to them, often making you jump in surprise! Damn! I miss everything about it! And this is ridiculous because those 2 years I spent there, these were things I hated most about Kottayam and made me wanting to run back to Kannur where people are more kind and made me feel home always! Funny the way I miss that godforsaken place for no reason now, a place where harshness is a word to describe everything! A city has its charm and for Kottayam, it is a slap on your face, perhaps…
Hmm…To be entirely honest and fair, there are certain things I cherish about Kottayam as well. For instance, that long field with green grass on and on which you notice on the way from a bus ride from Samkranthi to medical college. That mere sight of green grass spread for what looks like for eternity, always made me feel like stopping the bus right there and running into it, feeling the grass under my barefeet. And I never actually did so despite the strong desire, obviously, but always strained my neck quite a good deal, just to marvel at its beauty, from packed buses.
Another is that half decayed fallen tree, close to the Meenanthara river behind my father’s home at Kottayam. I loved spending the evenings there on the tree which has fallen into the river from land, conveniently staying horizontal to the water level, without actually touching it. I could sit at the farthest tip of it and soak my feet in the flowing river and spend hours conjuring imaginary wonderlands where I get to be the lone traveler.
And those exotic water lilies spread all the way in the river.. Purple, blue and white! And that one water lily with thin white flowers which always makes me feel it is requesting us not to touch and hurt it. I believe it is called Neythalaambal. My cousin told me so and he should be right. After all, he know the names of all those weird water creatures and fishes in the river. And all I know is a few including Mathi and Ayala. 
(Well, this is of course keeping in mind the fact that,when we were kids, he was the one who told me that one silver fish i caught once from the river is Mathi and I believed him for so long!) And even those water hyacinths with exotic violet flowers which has invaded half of the river now, sadly.
That temple on the other side of the river which plays ‘Kousalya Supraja’ promptly at five in the morning, every day, to which I wake up to find the temple lit with golden lights, those men who come every once in a while with flocks of ducks, that abandoned well in the neighborhood coconut field where I was told, as a kid, that a rabbit lives, those abandoned thookkanaam kuruvikkoodukal (weaver bird nests), those minnaminni’s (glow worms) in glass jars, that fresh earth dug up by earth worms overnight, those Anjilikkas, Babloos Narangas, Jaathikkas, Aathas, Chambas and numerous other edible fruits in the yard…. Oh! I can go on and on..
But most of all, I loved those once in a blue moon cerimoniously long bathing sessions in the Meenanthara river or river Meenachal (both flow right through the heart of the village, with the former being the tributary of the later), always accompanied by Achamma or Cheriyamma, for mine is not a familiar face in the village. While they were always so careful to cover me up ‘properly’ when I bathe in the river publicly, there would be women in the neighborhood bathing in the same river never bothering about covering themselves up. They bathe with their bare upper bodies open to the evening sun’s golden rays and embracing rippling water while engaging in normal everyday conversations with those men and women passing by the river bank. None of them, not even men, seemed to be bothered about their half naked bodies. I used to envy these women who were blissfully carefree and had no inhibitions at all! I used to envy their full grown breasts which get to embrace flowing water, enjoying every bit of it, with no fabric in between to restrict the pleasure! Well, I used to undress myself under water without them noticing at times, just to get the feel of it. The pleasure is beyond words but I never had the guts to emerge from water half naked, as cool as they do.
Even with two full flowing rivers in the back yard of the house, I never learned swimming and I always envied these women who reminded me of beautiful brown mermaids.. Old and young, wise and naive, chirpy and silent… All brown and beautiful nevertheless…
Image courtesy: Google Images
I miss the river and soaking myself in it till my fingers wrinkle and eyes redden… I miss the feel of water embracing my nude body… I miss river Meenachal and the brown mermaids I meet there… And I wonder if I will be allowed to bathe in the river this time, at all!!!
The gypsy cat 