The
light drizzle in the morning and the overhanging cloud signaled that it could prove
a spoilsport any time. We stuffed the bags in the dickey and kept knick-knacks
in the backseat, suspending diet restrictions till return.
Starting
off the trip with playing Maha Ganapathe… of Maharajapuram Santhanam, Ragu unleashed
his collection of assorted Carnatic classical, Tamil and Hindi film music,
vocal and instrumental. Nice to be transported to the 1960s/70s and to Kannadasan’s
meaningful lyrics set to haunting music
by the one and only Viswanathan-Ramamurthy duo. Madan Mohan took charge of
Hindi melodies.
With
a brief stop over in Krishnagiri for breakfast, it was a non-stop drive to
Coimbatore. The touchdown was an hour earlier with the young driver maintaining
an average of 130-140 kmph. “Best suited for young-generation travellers,” we
whispered.
A
quick lunch and a power nap in the hotel, we drove to Sri Satguru Jaggi
Vasudev’s Isha Foundation campus (a nice experience), Siruvani waterfalls, and
the centuries old Perur temple.
Early
next morning we left for Guruvayoor. As
the driver waited at a signal, I realized we were passing through Alathur, famous
for banana chips. We invaded the shop for full forty minutes trying out all samples
that were offered and ending up buying them all - two sets.
At
five next morning we positioned ourselves in the Senior Citizens’ queue. We had
very good darshan, not once but twice. We could have had more till 8 am. But we
had other programmes. We covered adjoining temples like Mammiyoor before rushing
to Trissur.
In
Trissur, we had breakfast at Pathans Hotel, and then darshan at a few temples. Both
Ragu and Padma, hailing from Kumbakonam, were thrilled to watch in Tiruvambadi
Krishna temple the young caparisoned elephant doing a baby-elephant walk, swinging
ears in unison - either to the accompaniment
of foot-tapping Chendai beat, or to ward off flies.
At
the Palakkad guesthouse we took a short break before heading to Kalpathy – declared
a UNESCO heritage village. Adjoining the Shiva temple is the Kalpathy river, in
full flow. The ladies got busy buying homemade pickles, savouries, and a few
other items.
Though
it was getting dark we rushed to Pallassena temple, our adima kavu, the Devi temple to which our family owes allegiance. Utterly tired, we hit the bed early
promising to rush through the itinerary the next morning before heading back to
Bangalore.
Next
morning we drove first to my ancestral house in Vadakkanthara village, now
owned by my aunt. We took Ragu and Padma inside the house. My aunt’s more-than-willing
d-i-l took charge of the conducted tour: granary on the left, the two first
floors in different rooms, the store-room and the deep-store underneath, which
had all family’s gold, silver and other valuables, the well with crystal clear
water, the kitchen to cater to 30-odd members, the massive Idli grinding stone
fixed to the floor…
If
Vadakkanthara was vibrant with rich cloth merchants, Ramanathapuram, my
mother’s village, was inhabited by school teachers, learned purohits and clerks
in Taluk office or court, and remained a sleepy village. A few yards before the
village stood Lord Ganesha’s temple to protect one from any Obstruction, as
Lord Mahavishnu, the preserver, presided over at the entrance. At the far end
is Lord Shiva, the destroyer, with a Departure lounge (read: cremation ground)
1000 yards away, with the village-pond in between. ”What made you not settle
down in Palakkad?” asked Ragu seeing me brimming with joy. I had no answer.
When
we reached Ramanathapuram, Uncha Vrithi had just started off from the Veda
Pathashala with the young boys, the purohits in the making, with an elderly
person at the centre, going around the village merrily singing bhajan with mridangam and harmonium elevating the
enchanting level. Nice to get a feel of the good old days.,
The
driver was getting restless; he must reach Bangalore before sunset to get an
assignment for the morrow. So we just drove past my school and college
buildings, skipping the scenic Malampuza dam, Madapulli Devi temple, Ramassery
Idli…
“Yet
another meticulous planning turned into a rat race,” we concluded at our
doorstep as we dipped our hands into our respective bags for the keys. “I gave
them to you,” I said, unable to find them in mine.. “No, I distinctly remember I
entrusted them to you,” she asserted, both displaying signs of back to basics.
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