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You can read the first part of this blog here. 

‘Tibet is the preoccupation of my life from childhood; freedom of Tibet has always been my dream.’ – Tenzin Tsundue. 

A Risky Journey to Tibet

As I mentioned in my last blog, my friends and I were looking forward to Tenzin Tsundue’s session about his risky journey to Tibet. Unfortunately, on the final day of Yaanam, October 19th, 2025, due to rain, the open-air events had to be moved indoors. The venue and timings of all other events had to be reshuffled to accommodate this change. Bad luck! Tsundue’s event coincided with the time I had chosen to leave the venue with my friends to have lunch. 

However, one of my friends, Prasanth, who attended the session, was kind enough to share a summary with me. He recalled, “At the beginning of the session, Tsundue talked about his parents, who were exiled to India along with the fourteenth Dalai Lama during the China-Tibet conflict times. Tsundue was born in Manali, in North India, where his parents worked as road construction workers. Since it was a chaotic time, his parents couldn’t even record his birthday. Tsundue says he was a restless kid in his childhood; his mother often had to tie him with a rope to stop him from wandering off. 

Tsundue completed his graduation from Loyola College in Chennai and his Master’s from Mumbai University. It was in his restless youth, soon after his graduation, that he ventured on a life-changing trip to Tibet to join the freedom movement.

The session was mainly about Tsundue’s journey from India to Tibet, through Ladakh, trekking through the Himalayas and crossing the border. He hoped to learn about the state of his countrymen under Chinese rule and to contribute to the Tibetan freedom movement through this passage. He wandered through kilometres of unpaved roads, camped at lonely sites, and survived severe weather thanks to the help of many kind strangers on the way. Even though he didn’t follow a proper plan or route, he was able to reach Tibet safely. Unfortunately, what awaited him in his country was more unpleasant experiences.

Upon reaching Tibet, the first man Tsundue met, a local Tibetan, tried to rob him of all his money and belongings. When Tsundue threatened to seek the help of Chinese military men from a nearby army camp, the local man promised not to rob him and took him home. However, this man falsely reported Tsundue as an Indian spy to the Chinese army. 

Soon, Tsundue was put in Chinese custody, where he was questioned for days. Since the army knew only Chinese, a language Tsundue couldn’t speak, he struggled to communicate his version of the story to them. Tsundue recollected how ironic this incident was. He was in Tibet to join his country’s independence movement against the Chinese, but a fellow Tibetan ratted him out to the Chinese army.

After interrogating him for many days, the Chinese army realised that Tsundue wasn’t a spy of any country, nor was he part of any revolutionary gangs. They reckoned he was just a Tibetan, born in exile, who tried to return to his home country.  

The Chinese army ordered him to write an apology. Tsundue wrote a 24-page letter in English, but it was not an apology. Instead, it was a recollection of the sights he saw on the way from India to Tibet, and a mix of scenes from various Indian movies he had seen before. The Chinese army mistook it for an apology, as they couldn’t understand English, and let him off the hook.

Tsundue knew, upon returning to India, he would have to face serious consequences as he illegally crossed the Indian border to reach Tibet. So once he was back in India, he directly reported to the Indian army camp and confessed to his journey to Tibet. In the camp, again, he was interrogated for many days before they let him go.

Tsundue’s protests didn’t end there. 

In January 2002, while Chinese Premier Zhu Rongji was addressing Indian business tycoons in Mumbai’s Oberoi Towers, Tsundue scaled scaffolding to the 14th floor to unfurl a Tibetan national flag and a FREE TIBET banner. In April 2005, he repeated a similar stunning one-man protest when Chinese Prime Minister Wen Jiabao was visiting Bangalore.

Tsundue claims that, since then, he has been under the constant observation of Indian intelligence. Whenever a Chinese president or any officials from China visit India, they arrest Tsundue on a precautionary basis, almost like a protocol. So far, he has been arrested 16 times, including the one time in Lhasa, Tibet.”

Hearing Tsundue’s story made me realise the extent of things we take for granted. Ever since I was born, I have called India my home and country. My parents and I always lived under the safety of four walls and a sheltered roof. India’s struggle for Independence was just something I had to read and learn for my exams from textbooks, not something I had to actively participate in or strive for. But Tsundue and his fellow countrymen have been struggling for years to win back their country’s freedom and  write that part of Tibetan history. 

Tenzin Tsundue’s Poetry 

My face lit up with a smile when I realised Tsundue had one more session at Yaanam –  the Poetic Trail. In that session, Tsundue, along with other poets Pramudith Rupasinghe and Madhu Raghavendra, read out their various poems inspired by travel. I attended the session with my new friend Latha, a Mysorean on her sixth visit to Varkala.

All three poets who participated in the session were amazing. But maybe because of the conviction in his voice, the subtle power of his simple word choices, or perhaps just because I was already aware of his story, Tsundue’s poetry disturbed me the most. To be honest, it gave me chills. Even Latha, who claimed to be a newbie at poetry recitations and literature festivals, was deeply moved by his poetry. 

Like the poem ‘When it rains in Dharamsala’ where he talks about the torturous monsoons beating against the tin roof of his room and flooding it, but also about the tears and despair flooding his eyes and heart:

“When it rains in Dharamsala

raindrops wear boxing gloves,

thousands of them

come crashing down

and beat my room.

…

I cannot cry like my room.

I have cried enough

in prisons

and in small moments of despair.”

Or the poem ‘space-bar A PROPOSAL’ he wrote for his professor: 

“your walls open into cupboards 

is there an empty shelf for me? 

let me grow in your garden 

with your roses and prickly pears

i’ll sleep under your bed 

and watch TV in the mirror…”

You don’t even have to be a refugee or homeless person to resonate with his words. Even an immigrant, or someone who has lived in hostels, rented houses, or at a relative’s place, would understand that state of never fully feeling at home. A raised voice, a heartfelt laugh, or switching ON an extra bulb could invite the owner’s wrath. At our own homes, it would only lead to a scolding from our parents or grandparents, but in a rented place, you could be evicted for a simple mistake like that. Or you might receive a sermon on how you’re overstaying your welcome. That state of living under constant scrutiny, feeling guilty for our mere presence, for just existing… Tsundue wrapped all these complicated feelings and thoughts into simple but profound lines like ‘I will watch TV in your mirror.’

The 45-minute session was not enough to satiate our interest in Tsundue’s poetry, let alone all three of these incredible poets. So at the end of the session, I rushed to the bookstore with Latha and bought the only Tenzin Tsundue book that was available. A short 60-page book named Nang Nowhere to Call Home, written in English and sold for just Rs 50. As Tsundue lives solely from the earnings of his book sales, I wished I could buy more of his books, especially his poetry collection Kora. Later, while exploring his personal website, I stumbled upon a link to download this book for free. 

Nang Nowhere to Call Home

“Home is not a house but the purpose that takes us places, and sometimes away from our own home.” – Nowhere to Call Home. 

This book is a collection of a few of Tsundue’s essays, poetry, stories, and one interview. 

Tsundue’s Political Essays

In Tsundue’s essays in this book, he explores his broken identity as a Tibetan in exile, a refugee in India, and someone with no passport, nationality, or a place to call home.

“Losar is when we the juveniles and bastards

Call home across the Himalayas

And cry into the wire”

On the Tibetan new year, Losar, Tsundue watched his brethren wait in a long line outside a phone booth in MCLeod Ganj, to call their loved ones in Tibet. One by one, they entered the booth, made the calls, and came out, crying and emotionally wrecked, then paid and left. So Tsundue started calling it the Cry Booth, only to realise they were fortunate to have a family to cry to, and a house to call home.  

Across the essays, Tsundue talks about the hardship of his countrymen back in Tibet… 

“Tibet is now a police state. To mine lithium, copper, gold and rare-earths, China’s mining in Tibet is pushing Tibetan nomads and farmers off their ancestral land, coercing them to relocate to alien and artificial villages, much like how White American colonists transplanted Native Americans into fenced plots called ‘Reservations.’”

…but also about their resilience. 

“In seventy years, Mao Zedong’s China became an economic superpower but, in the process, killed its own Buddha. Tibet has lost one sixth of its population and almost all its monasteries, but the People’s Republic couldn’t change us in seventy years. Today, Tibet’s Buddhism may be quietly changing China itself.” 

Tsundue also uses his essays as a strong political tool to criticise India’s One-China policy, calling it absolutely lopsided in terms of diplomacy. He claims:

“India has to remain silent on sixty per cent of the contested area under China’s territorial control, and also Hong Kong and claims over Taiwan, while China has to stand with India only on Kashmir. And it does this, too unfaithfully…”

Tsundue also points out that

“It(India) can’t validate its claim over Arunachal Pradesh without recognising the historical independence of Tibet.” 

“The Tawang region, the birthplace of the Sixth Dalai Lama, was part of Tibet until the agreement in 1914 resulted in the McMahon Line. This bifurcated the entire region of Tawang and made it a part of British India, with maps redrawn and documents signed. 

…

Against this backdrop, how does India hope to validate its claim over Arunachal Pradesh without recognising Tibet, which gave away Tawang to India?”

Tsundue also reminds us that India never had any borders with China, but with Tibet.

“India never had any borders with China; it was only after the Chinese occupation of Tibet that China appeared over the Himalayas. Neither the media-crafted narrative nor the organised education system gives any clear picture about Tibet – what lies behind the Himalayas, the real civilisational neighbour with whom India shares a 4,085 km border.”

Most of his political essays were enlightening, but I found myself vehemently shaking my head ‘no’ while reading the essay ‘Not Playing With Fire: Acts of suffering for the awakening of others,’ in which he talks about self-immolation as an act of protests among Tibetans. 

Tsundue’s Short Stories

The book also contains two heartwarming stories written by Tsundue. 

In ‘Zumki’s Snowlion,’ we meet a young girl named Zumki who wants to meet the snow lion. “It is believed that only the most kind and those with the purest of hearts can see a snow lion.” It made me wonder: Will a snow lion ever show up before me? Are we pure and kind enough for that?

In the short story Kora, we meet a young Tashi who accuses a Tibetan elder: “You were the people who gave away our country into the hands of the Chinese.” But when the elder retorts, “If my son had been alive, he would have been older than you. But he died fighting the Chinese. He died in my lap. … You tell me what you have done for Tibet up to now?”, just like Tashi, we fall silent too.  

Minimalist Lifestyle 

Apart from Tsundue’s writing and protests for Tibet’s Independence, what inspired me the most was the simple lifestyle he lived. Quoting his friends:

“He lives in simplicity – living in two sets of Tibetan shirts and jeans, and always carrying this worn-out backpack, stitched and patched, and adorned by old stickers and trinkets. In that, he carries his daily tools and his cherished poetry books. Behind this minimalist existence lies a deep well of strength, integrity, and commitment. While many seek comfort or recognition, Tsundue has chosen a path of sacrifice. He makes do with his simple life, a vegetarian and teetotaler, solely out of the sales of his self-published books.”  

– Tashi, Jana, Mata Gyamtsi and Alfie, from Prague, Czech Republic, Preface, Nang Nowhere To Call Home. 

Tsundue’s Longing For Home

Though there was so much to learn and be inspired by Tsundue’s life, the realist in me couldn’t help but doubt how practical his dreams were. We live in a world where not just the governments, but also individuals serve their own selfish agendas over the common good. A selfless and peace-loving community like Tibetans are no match for the economic and military superiority of China. Even India, despite being the largest democracy in the world and providing refuge for the Tibetan exiles for decades, cannot be expected to risk the peace and safety of its 1.46+ billion people to officially recognise the independence of Tibet, and thereby anger China further, especially given the existing tensions between the two countries.

The pessimist in me, for a split second, even equated Tsundue’s longing for Tibet as Hiraeth. Hiraeth is a Welsh word that means homesickness for a home that never was and never will be. I was thinking along the lines of… Tsundue has never been to his home in Tibet. Will the Tibetan independence movement bear fruit in his time? Will he be able to build a home there someday? Does Tibet stand a chance against the powerful China?

But Tsundue has sharp replies for such pessimists, too: 

“Home for me is real. It is there, but I am very far from it. It is the home of my grandparents and parents left behind in Tibet. It is the valley in which my Popo-la and Momo-la had their farm and lots of yaks, where my parents played when they were children.”

And he retorts:

“Gandhi too must have been asked the same question: ‘Gandhi, do you stand a chance?’ Looking at the British Empire ruling two-thirds of the world and arrogantly saying ‘The Sun never sets on the British Empire’. Today the entire UK can fit in Rajasthan, only one of 28 states of India. EMPIRES COME AND GO. For India, it took 200 years…”

“…Our country(Tibet) may not be free today, but we are, in our hearts. And one who has freedom in the heart will remain free. Of course, Tibet will be free, Inshallah.”

When an entire nation in exile is putting its hope on this freedom movement, who are we to discourage them with our own cowardice and pessimism? I commend their audacity to hope, their daily sacrifices for the cause of Tibetan freedom, their willpower and courage.

As the old man says to Tashi, we can only hope and pray that the younger Tibetans will ‘complete the work left incomplete, will be successful in the struggle and take His Holiness the Dalai Lama back to a free Tibet.”

Personally, I made a mental note to correct my own misconceptions. What Tibetans feel towards Tibet is not a homesickness for a home that never was and never will be. Tibet was, and Tibet will be. And Tibet still is in the hearts of every Tibetan who calls it their home. 

Author’s Notes

~ All quotations used in this post are from Tenzin Tsundue’s books Kora and Nang Nowhere to Call Home.

~ All other content on this book review is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ You can read all the blogs in the Yaanam 2025 series here: Yaanam2025.

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യാനം 2025

കേരളസർക്കാർ സംസ്ഥാനത്തിന്റെ വിനോദസഞ്ചാര സാധ്യതകളെ ലോകത്തിനു പരിചയപ്പെടുത്താനും, 25 കോടിയോളം രൂപ മുതൽമുടക്ക് വരുന്ന വികസനപദ്ധതികൾ ഈ മേഖലയിൽ പ്രഖ്യാപിക്കാനുമായി  വർക്കലയിലെ രംഗം കലാ കേന്ദ്രത്തിൽ ഒക്ടോബർ 17, 18, 19 തീയതികളിൽ  ഒരു സഞ്ചാര സാഹിത്യ ഫെസ്റ്റിവൽ സംഘടിപ്പിക്കുകയുണ്ടായി – യാനം 2025. ലോകമെമ്പാടും നിന്നുള്ള 48  സ്‌പീക്കർസിനൊപ്പം പരിപാടി കാണാനെത്തിയ 150ഓളം ഡെലിഗേറ്റസിൽ എനിക്കുമൊരു ഭാഗമാകാനായി. ഈ പരിപാടിയെകുറിച്ചു ഞാനെഴുതുന്ന ഒരു ബ്ലോഗ് സീരീസിലെ രണ്ടാമത്തെ കണ്ണിയാണ് ഈ പോസ്റ്റ്. ഈ പരിപാടിക്കിടെ ഞാൻ യാദൃശ്ചികമായി പരിചയപ്പെട്ട ഒരു എഴുത്തുകാരിയെയും അവരുടെ ഏറ്റവും പുതിയ പുസ്തകത്തെയും പരിചയപ്പെടുത്താനാണ് ഈ ബ്ലോഗ്. 

എനിക്കീ   പുസ്തകം കിട്ടിയ കഥ!

യാനത്തിന്റെ മൂന്നാം ദിവസം ഒക്ടോബർ 19, 2025, ഞായറാഴ്ച,  ഒരു സെഷന്റെ ഇടയ്ക്ക്, എന്റെയൊരു സുഹൃത്ത് നാട്ടിലേക്ക് പോകുന്നു എന്ന് പറഞ്ഞതുകൊണ്ട് അവനെ കാണാനായി ഞാൻ പുറത്തേക്കിറങ്ങി. അപരിചിതരായ ഒരു കൂട്ടം ചെറുപ്പക്കാർ അപ്പൊ രംഗം കലാ കേന്ദ്രത്തിന്റെ മുൻപിലായി നിൽപ്പുണ്ടായിരുന്നു. ദൃതിയിലായതുകൊണ്ട് അവരെ നോക്കി ഒന്ന് പുഞ്ചിരിച്ചിട്ടു ഞാൻ പുറത്തേക്കു പോയി. യാനത്തിന്റെ സംഘാടകരോ, അല്ലെങ്കിൽ ഏതെങ്കിലും പത്രത്തിന്റെയോ ചാനലിന്റെയോ മീഡിയ ടീമോ, ഇനി അതുമല്ലെങ്കിൽ ഒരു കൂട്ടം പുസ്തകപ്രേമികളോ ആകും എന്നെ ഞാൻ കരുതിയുള്ളൂ. 

അൽപനേരം കഴിഞ്ഞു ഞാൻ തിരിച്ചെത്തിയപ്പോഴും അവർ അവിടെ തന്നെയുണ്ടായിരുന്നു. അതിലൊരു ചെറുപ്പക്കാരൻ എന്നെ വന്നു പരിചയപ്പെടുകയും എനിക്കൊരു പുസ്തകം തരാനുണ്ടെന്നു പറയുകയും   ചെയ്തു. എനിക്ക് എന്താ ഏതാ ഒന്നും മനസിലായില്ല. കിളി പോയി നിന്ന എന്നോട് പൈസ ഒന്നും വേണ്ടെന്നും, ഈ പുസ്തകം ഇന്നാർക്കെങ്കിലും കൊടുക്കണമെന്നുള്ളത് പുള്ളിക്കൊരാൾ കൊടുത്ത ടാസ്ക് ആണെന്നും പറഞ്ഞു. ആഹാ! വളരെ രസകരമായ ടാസ്ക്! ഞാൻ മനസ്സിലോർത്തു.

പല തവണ യാനത്തിന്റെ ബുക്ക്സ്റ്റോറിൽ കേറിയിറങ്ങി ഒട്ടുമിക്യ പുസ്തകങ്ങളെയും തിരിച്ചും മറിച്ചും വായിനോക്കിയെങ്കിലും ഉടനെ കുറേ യാത്രകളുള്ളത് കൊണ്ടും, പൈസ പിടിച്ചു ചിലവാക്കണമെന്ന ദൃഢപ്രതിജ്ഞയിലായതുകൊണ്ടും ഞാൻ അതുവരെ ഒരു പുസ്തകം മാത്രമേ  വാങ്ങിച്ചിരുന്നുള്ളു. അപ്പോഴാണ് ഒരാൾ വന്നു എനിക്കിങ്ങോട്ടു ഒരു നല്ല പുസ്തകം സൗജനയുമായി തരുന്നത്. സ്വാഭാവികമായും ഞാൻ ഹാപ്പിയായി.

പുസ്തകത്തിന്റെ പുറംചട്ടയിൽ നല്ലഭംഗിയുള്ള ഒരു പെൺകുട്ടിയുടെ ഫോട്ടോ. ഞാൻ പുസ്തകത്തിന്റെ പേരും, എഴുത്തുകാരിയുടെ പേരും വായിച്ചു. ചിത്രശലഭങ്ങളെ വിട, ദിവ്യ വേലായുധൻ. ഞാൻ എടുത്ത വായിൽ ചോദിക്കുകയും ചെയ്തു, “ആരാ ഈ ദിവ്യ?”

“ഞാനാണ്” എന്ന് ആ കൂട്ടത്തിലെ ഒരു പെൺകുട്ടി പറഞ്ഞു. ശ്ശെടാ! സെയിം ഫേസ്. പുസ്തകത്തിന്റെ പുറംച്ചട്ടയിലെ അതെ മുഖം. എന്നാലും ഞാൻ നേരത്തെ ശ്രദ്ധിക്കാതെ പോയല്ലോ! അമളി പറ്റിയത് പുറത്തു കാട്ടാതെ ഞാൻ ചിരിച്ചു. 

ഒരു പുസ്തകം എഴുതുന്നതും അത് പ്രസിദ്ധീകരിക്കുന്നതും ശ്രമകരമായ ജോലിയാണെന്ന് അത് ചെയ്തിട്ടുള്ളതുകൊണ്ടു എനിക്ക് നന്നായി അറിയാം. ഞാൻ ദിവ്യയോട് എന്റെ അഭിനന്ദനങ്ങളും പുസ്തകം തന്നതിലുള്ള നന്ദിയും അറിയിച്ചു. പുസ്തകം വായിച്ചിട്ട് അതിനെക്കുറിച്ച് എന്റെ ബ്ലോഗിൽ ഒരു വായനാസ്വാദനം എഴുതാം എന്ന് ഉറപ്പുകൊടുത്തിരുന്നു. അതാണ് നിങ്ങളീ വായിച്ചുകൊണ്ടിരുന്ന പോസ്റ്റ്. 

രണ്ടു പുതിയ അമളികൾ

പുസ്തകത്തിന്റെ പേര് ‘ചിത്രശലഭങ്ങളെ വിട‘ എന്നായതുകൊണ്ട് ഇതൊരു പ്രണയ-വിരഹ കഥയായിരിക്കും എന്നായിരുന്നു എന്റെ മുൻവിധി. കുറച്ചു ദിവസങ്ങൾക്കു മുൻപ്, കൃത്യമായി പറഞ്ഞാൽ നവംബർ ആറിന് ഈ പുസ്തകം വെറുതെയൊന്നു മറിച്ചുനോക്കിയപ്പോഴാണ് എന്റെ പുതിയ രണ്ടു അമളികൾ ഞാൻ തിരിച്ചറിഞ്ഞത്. 

ഒന്ന്… ഞാൻ വിചാരിച്ചിരുന്നത് പോലെ ഇത് ദിവ്യയുടെ ആദ്യത്തെ പുസ്തകമല്ല, അഞ്ചാമത്തെ പുസ്തകമാണ്. മാത്രവുമല്ല, Divyaverse പബ്ലിക്കേഷൻസ് എന്നൊരു പുസ്തകപ്രസിദ്ധീകരണ കമ്പനിയും അവർ നടത്തുന്നുണ്ട്. 

രണ്ടു… ഞാൻ തെറ്റിദ്ധരിച്ചതു പോലെ ഇതൊരു പ്രണയകഥയല്ല. ദിവ്യ എന്ന മുപ്പത്തിമൂന്നുകാരിയിൽ തൈറോയ്ഡ് കാൻസർ കണ്ടെത്തിയതിന്റെയും തുടർന്ന് അവർ ആ കാൻസർ അതിജീവിച്ചതിന്റെയും കഥയാണ്. നേരത്തെ ഇത് മനസിലാക്കാതെ പോയത് എന്റെ മാത്രം മണ്ടത്തരമാണ്, കാരണം പുസ്തകത്തിന്റെ പുറംചട്ടയിൽ നല്ല വെണ്ടയ്ക്ക അക്ഷരത്തിൽ “Beyond the butterfly scar… A cancer story…” എന്ന് എഴുതിയിട്ടുണ്ട്. കൂടാതെ പുസ്തകത്തിന്റെ പിന്നിലെ സംഗ്രഹത്തിലും  ഇതിനെ പറ്റി വിശദമായി പറയുന്നുണ്ട്. 

“നിന്റെ കഥയെഴുത്തല്ല ബുക്ക് റിവ്യൂ. നിനക്ക് ആ പുസ്തകം എന്തുകൊണ്ട് ഇഷ്ടമായി, മറ്റൊരാൾ ആ പുസ്തകം എന്തിനു വായിക്കണം എന്നുമാത്രം എഴുതി നിർത്തിക്കോണം” എന്നാണ് എന്റെ വീട്ടിലെ ഹൈകമ്മാണ്ടിന്റെ ഓർഡർ. അതുകൊണ്ടു അഭിപ്രായം ചുരുക്കിപറയാം.  

പുസ്തക നിരൂപണം 

“വേദനകൾ പതിയെ ഞാനറിയൂ. എന്റെ മുഖത്തു വിഷമം കാണില്ല. എന്റെ വാക്കുകളിൽ പ്രയാസം ആരും അറിയില്ല. ഞാൻ ഒരു കള്ളിയാണ്. എനിക്ക് എളുപ്പത്തിൽ ഞാൻ പോലുമറിയാതെ പലതും മറയ്ക്കാൻ പറ്റും. പലതും. ഒരുവേള എന്നെത്തന്നെ പറ്റിക്കുകയാണ് എന്ന് സ്വയം മനസിലാക്കുക പോലും ചെയ്യാതെ ഞാൻ ജീവിച്ചു കളയും. അതാണ് ഞാൻ.”

ദിവ്യയുടെ തൊണ്ടയിലെ ഒരു കരകരപ്പു  Papillary Carcinoma എന്ന തൈറോയ്ഡ് ക്യാന്സറാണെന്നു ഡോക്ടർ സ്ഥിരീകരിക്കുന്നതും, ജീവിതത്തിലിന്നേ വരെ തൈറോയ്ഡ് സംബന്ധമായ യാതൊരു അസുഖങ്ങളും വന്നിട്ടില്ലാത്ത തനിക്ക് ഒരു പക്ഷെ ജോലിസ്ഥലത്തെ mineral   exposure കൊണ്ടാവാം അസുഖം വന്നതെന്ന നിഗമനത്തിൽ ദിവ്യ എത്തുന്നതും, തുടർന്നു ശസ്ത്രക്രിയയിലൂടെയും Radioactive Iodine തെറാപ്പിയിലൂടെയും ക്യാന്സറിനെ അതീജീവിക്കുന്നതുമാണ് ഈ ഓർമ്മകുറിപ്പിന്റെ  ഇതിവൃത്തം. 

വിഷയം ക്യാന്സറും അതിജീവനവുമാണെങ്കിലും, വളരെ ലളിതമായ, എന്നാൽ ഹാസ്യവും സിനിമ ഡയലോഗുകളുമൊക്കെ ചാലിച്ച രസകരമായ സംസാരഭാഷയിലാണ് ഈ പുസ്തകം എഴുതിയിരിക്കുന്നത്. അതുകൊണ്ടു തന്നെ എല്ലാത്തരം വായനക്കാർക്കും ഈ പുസ്തകം പ്രാപ്യമാണ്. 

ആലങ്കാരികമായ ഭാഷയിൽ എഴുതിയാൽ മാത്രമേ സാഹിത്യമാകു എന്ന് വിശ്വസിക്കുന്നവരോട് പറയാനുള്ളത്, ഭാഷ ലളിതമാണെങ്കിലും എഴിതിയിരിക്കുന്നതൊക്കെയും തീക്ഷ്ണമായ ജീവിതാനുഭവങ്ങളെകുറിച്ചാണ്. അത് എന്നെ പോലെ നിങ്ങളെയും നല്ല ഇമോഷണലാക്കാൻ സാധ്യതയുണ്ട്.

“ഈ കഴിഞ്ഞ ഇടവത്തിൽ മുപ്പത്തിമൂന്നു വയസ്സാണ് എനിക്ക്. മൂന്ന് സ്കൂളുകൾ, രണ്ടു കോളേജുകൾ, മൂന്ന് പ്രണയങ്ങൾ, ഒരു വിവാഹം, ഒരു വിവാഹ മോചനം, പല പല ജോലികൾ, രണ്ടു രാജിക്കത്തുകൾ, അങ്ങനെ മുപ്പത്തിമൂന്നു വർഷങ്ങൾ കൊണ്ട് ഒരു അറുപതുവയസ്സ് ജീവിച്ചത്പോലെയായി. എന്നാലും ഒരിക്കലും മടുത്തിട്ടില്ല. ഇപ്പോഴും പ്രണയമുണ്ട്. പുതിയ ജോലിയുണ്ട്. എല്ലാത്തിലുമുപരി എന്റെ പരിഷ്കരിച്ച പതിപ്പ് വളരെ മനോഹരമാണ്. ഇപ്പോൾ ഞാൻ കടലുപോലെ ശാന്തവും കരപോലെ ദീർഘവുമാകാൻ കഴിവുള്ള ഒരു മനുഷ്യനാണ്.”

ആരെയും കൂസാതെയുള്ള തുറന്നെഴുത്താണ്‌ എഴുത്തുകാരിയുടെ ശൈലി. അതിൽ പ്രിയപെട്ടവരോടുള്ള സ്നേഹവും പരിഭവങ്ങളുമുണ്ട്, പ്രണയമുണ്ട്, വിരഹമുണ്ട്, സാമ്പത്തികപ്രതിസന്ധികളുണ്ട്, ജോലിസ്ഥലത്തെ മേലധികാരികളോടുള്ള ദേഷ്യമുണ്ട്,  ആന്തരിക മുറിവുകളുണ്ട്, കാൻസർ അതിജീവനമുണ്ട്, പക്ഷെ അതിനെല്ലാം ഉപരിയായി ചെറുത്തുനിൽപ്പുണ്ട്, പൊരുതലുണ്ട്, പുനർവിചിന്തനത്തിലൂടെയും പുനരാവിഷ്കാരത്തിലൂടെയുമുള്ള  വൻ തിരിച്ചുവരവുകളുണ്ട്. ആ കാലഘട്ടങ്ങളിലൊക്കെ  കൂടെ നിന്ന ഡോക്ടർമാർ, നഴ്സുമാർ, ലൈഫ് കോച്ച്, പാർട്ണർ, കുടുംബാംഗങ്ങൾ, സുഹൃത്തുക്കളോടുള്ള നന്ദിപറച്ചിലുണ്ട്. 

ആദ്യം വായിച്ചു തുടങ്ങിയപ്പോൾ, ചില ഭാഗങ്ങളിൽ കുറച്ചു പരിഭവംപറച്ചിലും സ്വയംപൊക്കലും കൂടുതൽ അല്ലെ എന്ന് തോന്നിയിരുന്നു. ഞാൻ മെയ്യഴകനെ പോലെയാ എന്ന് പലയിടങ്ങളിൽ പരാമർശിച്ചപ്പോൾ അല്പം ആവർത്തനവിരസതയും തോന്നി. പക്ഷെ പുസ്തകത്തിന്റെ അവസാനമെത്തിയപ്പോൾ വളരെ നിഷ്കളങ്കമായ, ഒരുപാടു സ്നേഹമുള്ള, കുറച്ചധികം സത്യസന്ധയായ, inspiring ആയ ഒരു വ്യക്തിയുടെ ജീവിതം അടുത്തറിഞ്ഞതായാണ് തോന്നിയത്. 

എനിക്കീ പുസ്തകത്തിൽ ഏറ്റവും ഇഷ്ടപെട്ടത് ദിവ്യയുടെ unapologetic ജീവിതവും തുറന്നെഴുത്തും തന്നെയാണ്. കാൻസർ കാലഘട്ടത്തിൽ to-do ലിസ്റ്റുകളിലൂടെയും ദിവസേനയുള്ള പോസിറ്റീവ് affirmationsലുടെയും നിരാശയിൽ വീണു പോകാതെ പിടിച്ചു നിന്നതും, സ്വന്തം ശരീരത്തോടും മുറിച്ചുമാറ്റിയ ശലഭാകൃതിയുള്ള തന്റെ തൈറോയ്ഡ് ഗ്രന്ഥിയോടും കൂടെ നിന്ന പ്രിയപെട്ടവരോടും നന്ദി പറഞ്ഞുകൊണ്ടെഴുതിയ കത്തുകളും ഒരു വായനക്കാരി എന്ന നിലയിൽ എന്നെ വൈകാരികമായി സ്പർശിക്കുകയും അല്പം കരയിപ്പിക്കുകയും ജീവിതത്തിന്റെ ഏറ്റക്കുറച്ചിലുകളെ സധൈര്യം നേരിടാൻ ഒരു പ്രചോദനമായി മാറുകയും ചെയ്തു. 

ഈ പുസ്തകത്തിൽ പലയിടത്തുമായി ദിവ്യയും പാർട്ണറായ അജീഷും പറയുന്ന ഒരു കാര്യമുണ്ട് – “ഞങ്ങൾ വെട്ടൊന്ന് തുണ്ടു രണ്ടു പാർട്ടീസ് ആണ്. അതായതു കാര്യങ്ങൾ വേഗത്തിൽ ചെയ്തു തീർക്കും.” അതിനൊരു ഉദാഹരണം പറയാം. 164 പേജുകളുള്ള ഈ പുസ്തകം ദിവ്യ എഴുതി തീർത്തത് രണ്ടു ദിവസം കൊണ്ടാണ്, അതും കാൻസർ ചികിത്സയുടെ ഇടയിൽ. ഇതെഴുതുമ്പോൾ എന്റെ മുഖത്തൊരു ചമ്മൽ ചിരിയുണ്ട്, കാരണം ഈ ബ്ലോഗെഴുതി തീർക്കാൻ ഞാൻ 2-3 ദിവസമെടുത്തു.

ഇത്രയും വലിയ ചികിത്സയുടെ ഇടയിലിരുന്നു ഒരു പുസ്തകമെഴുതി തീർക്കാൻ കാണിച്ച മനഃസാന്നിധ്യത്തിനും കരളുറപ്പിനും ശുഭാപ്തിവിശ്വാസത്തിനും എത്ര അഭിനന്ദിച്ചാലും മതിയാകില്ല. ഇനിയും ഒരുപാടു ഉയരങ്ങളിൽ എത്തട്ടെ എന്നാശംസിക്കുന്നു.

എഴുത്തിലും ജീവിതത്തിലും എല്ലാവിധ ഭാവുകങ്ങളും നേരുന്നു. എന്തിനും ഏതിനും കൂടെയുള്ള ആ സുഹൃത്തുക്കളുടെയും പ്രിയപെട്ടവരുടെയും സ്നേഹവലയം എന്നും ചുറ്റിനുമുണ്ടാകട്ടെ എന്ന് പ്രാർത്ഥിക്കുകയും ചെയുന്നു.

ഇനി പറയാനുള്ളത് സഹൃദയരോടാണ്. ജീവിതത്തിൽ ഉയർച്ചതാഴ്ചകളും ജയപരാജയങ്ങളും സാധാരണമാണല്ലോ? പക്ഷെ എന്തുകൊണ്ടോ ചില വീഴ്ചകളിൽ നമ്മൾ തളർന്നിരുന്നു പോകുന്നു. ചിലപ്പോൾ ചെറിയ തെറ്റുകൾക്കും കുറവുകൾക്കും പോലും നമ്മളോടും മറ്റുള്ളവരോടും ക്ഷമിക്കാൻ കഴിയാതെ എത്രയോ നാൾ നിരാശയുടെ പടുകുഴിയിലോ ദേഷ്യത്തിന്റെ മുഖംമൂടിക്കുള്ളിലോ നമ്മൾ സ്വയമൊതുങ്ങുന്നു.  നമ്മളുടെയിടയിൽ ഇപ്പോഴും അത്തരം മാനസിക സങ്കർഷങ്ങളിലൂടെ കടന്നു പോകുന്നവർക്ക്, കാൻസർ ചികിത്സയിലായിരിക്കുന്നവർക്കു, കാൻസർ അതിജീവിച്ചവർക്കു, അവരുടെ പ്രിയപ്പെട്ടവർക്ക് എന്തുകൊണ്ടും ദിവ്യയുടെ ജീവിതം നല്ലൊരു മാതൃകയും,  ഈ പുസ്തകം അതിജീവനത്തിന്റെയും, ചേർത്തുപിടിക്കലിന്റെയും മികച്ചൊരു വായനാനുഭവവുമാകും.

Reviewer’s Notes

~ All quotations used in this post are from the reviewed book Chithrashalabhangale Vida by Divya Velayudhan.

~ All other content on this book review is the intellectual property of the reviewer. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ You can read all the blogs in the Yaanam 2025 series here: Yaanam2025.

Yaanam 2025

Recently, I attended Yaanam, a one-of-a-kind travel literature festival organised by Kerala Tourism in Varkala. The event brought together writers, journalists, photographers, musicians, chefs, content creators, and fellow travel enthusiasts from across the globe. 

It was conceptualised and curated by Sabin Iqbal, a novelist, journalist, and literary curator native to Varkala. Along with the renowned 48+ speakers, including Booker Prize winner Sri Lankan Writer Shehan Karunatilaka, to Malayalee’s very own K.R. Meera and Benyamin, the event was also open to 150 delegates. 

Though the event’s online registration closed early, I was able to attend through spot registration. I’m glad I showed up at Ranga Kala Kendram, the venue of the event, on the inauguration day, October 17th, 2025, and grabbed that opportunity. I met many like-minded people, made new friends, discovered inspiring writers and travellers, listened in awe to their stories and activism, learned valuable lessons, and above all, had a wonderful time.

This blog is to show my love and appreciation for one of the most compelling writer voices I heard during the event – Tenzin Tsundue.

Tenzin Tsundue

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Consumerism and Overtourism

The first time I noticed Tsundue was on the Inauguration Day of Yaanam, after the first interactive session, “Conversation – In Search of Stories and Characters.” He is hard to miss as he sports a striking red bandana on his head, but I didn’t know its relevance then.

The panel consisted of writers Shehan Karunatilaka, Pallavi Aiyar, and K.R. Meera, with Sabin Iqbal as the moderator. During the session, the authors discussed their travel experiences, how travel is an indispensable part of their creative writing process, and passportism, the privilege and displacement associated with travel. 

This was followed by a Q&A session, where Tsundue, who was part of the audience, raised concerns about how consumerism and the Social media influencer culture often lead to overcrowding and overtourism in Himachal areas, including Dharamshala, where he is based. He also pointed out how it often causes environmental and social issues, where tourists become a nuisance for the locals. He stressed the importance of promoting a slow and more sustainable form of tourism.

At that point, I thought he was a fellow travel enthusiast, someone who was deeply concerned about the environmental and sustainability aspects of travel. But soon, to my surprise, while skimming through the programme schedule, I ended up reading his bio on the speakers’ list.

Tenzin Tsundue is a Tibetan poet, writer and activist, born and raised in India, and is regarded as one of the most prominent voices for Tibetan independence.  He is instantly recognisable by the red bandana he wears, a symbol of his lifelong commitment to work for Tibet’s freedom. His speaking tours have taken him all over India and to twenty-five other countries, while his protest actions landed him in jail sixteen times, including once in Lhasa, Tibet. 

Tsundue supports himself entirely through the sales of his self-published books: Crossing the Border, a book of poems (1999); Kora, a collection of stories and poems (2002); Semshook, essays on the Tibetan freedom struggle (2007); Tsengol, stories and poems of resistance (2012); and Nang / Nowhere to Call Home (2023). In 2001, he received the Outlook-Picador Award for Non-Fiction. He lives in Dharamshala, in Himachal Pradesh, India. (Source: Yaanam 2025 & Tenzin Tsundue. )

After learning about his writing and protests for his country’s independence, my friends and I were excited to attend his session –  Borders Within: A Journey to Tibet. (Tenzin Tsundue takes us on his harrowing journey from Dharmshala to Tibet, the land of his ancestors.)  It was scheduled to happen the next day, on October 18th, 2025, but due to unforeseen issues, it got postponed to the 19th, the last day of Yaanam.

Envy for Cuba

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The next day, under the pala tree, one of the key spots of the event, I was listening to N P Ullekh‘s session “My Cuban Days”, moderated by Faizal Khan. Ullekh recounted his Cuban sojourn, pointed out the similarities between Cuba and his native district, Kannur in Kerala, elaborated on Malayalis’ nostalgia for Cuba, and discussed his latest book, ‘Mad About Cuba: A Malayali Revisits the Revolution.’ 

At the end of the session, Tsundue, who was again part of the audience,  added his perspective. He said he felt envy for Cuba. He wished someone would speak about Tibet the way Ullekh was talking about Cuba. Ullekh responded that he would be happy to visit, provided someone granted him the visa. However, Tsundue expressed that it was too late, given the current political climate and brewing tension between India and China.

As a spectator, I felt the whole scene was a bit ironic. The Kerala government organised Yaanam 2025 and chose Tenzin Tsundue as a guest and speaker. I’m glad they did because he is such an important voice of dissent in our times. But it also made me wonder how Tsundue felt speaking in Kerala, where a communist Government is in power, with its people romanticising the likes of Che Guevara and Cuba’s 60-year defiance of the capitalist superpowers. Meanwhile, China, another communist power, conquered Tibet and forced its people, including the fourteenth Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, into exile in India. 

I sighed, realising life is full of ironies. Ideally, every political ideology should stand for equality, freedom, and justice, just as every religion must teach love, peace, and brotherhood. Yet, most followers rarely live up to these ideals. In other words, the way we interpret and practise religions and political ideologies makes all the difference. 

Venchamaram

In the preface of Tsundue’s latest book, Nang Nowhere To Call Home, Tashi, Jana, Mata Gyamtsi and Alfie, from Prague, Czech Republic, wrote:

“His activism is not driven by anger or resentment, but by a deep love for his homeland and a profound sense of justice.”

True to their word, Tsundue broke our thoughts by pointing out an endearing trade link between Kerala and Tibet in the past. He explained that Venchamaram, the white, flowing tufts used to fan Thidambu atop elephants in ceremonial processions and temple festivals in Kerala, such as Poorams, was originally made from the fur of Tibetan yaks. This fur was reared only after the natural death of yaks.

He brought a smile to the audience’s faces with this trivia, but the pain and yearning in his voice for his homeland also tugged at our hearts. I looked forward to hearing more about his activism and journeys in the next day’s session. 

At every check-post and office

I am an “Indian-Tibetan”

My Registration Certificate

I renew every year with a salaam.

A foreigner born in India.

I am more of an Indian.

Except for my chinky Tibetan face.

“Nepali?” “Thai?” “Japanese?”

“Chinese?” “Naga?” “Manipuri?”

But never the question – “Tibetan?”

I am Tibetan.

But I am not from Tibet.

Never been there.

Yet I dream

Of dying there. – Poem ‘My Tibetanness,’ Book Kora 

To be continued… 

Up Next: Yaanam’25 – Tenzin Tsundue’s Poetry and His Latest Book, Nang Nowhere To Call Home

Author’s Notes

~ All embedded Instagram posts are the property of Yaanam and Kerala Tourism.

~ All other content on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ You can read all the blogs in the Yaanam 2025 series here: Yaanam2025.

September 11, 2025, Thursday – Day 2, Exploring East Fort in Trivandrum

After a good night’s sleep, morning walk, bath, and a light idli & coconut chutney(chammanthi) breakfast, I was raring for a long, adventurous day.

Did I mention I made new friends? Yes, of course, my three hostel roommates, who were juniors working at Technopark and native to different parts of Kerala, such as Thrissur, Kottayam, and Kollam. But I also said ‘hi’ to the tabby cat that made our hostel its home, the tiny squirrel that hopped on the fence and kept me company during my morning walk, and the part-whitish, part-light-brownish pariah dog with a black leather collar on its neck that put an end to my walk with a single growl.  

Every cat that adopts itself into an Indian home – 80% charm, and 20% sly rascal!

Bus to East Fort 

Once the morning office rush was over, I hopped on a bus to East Fort, from Attinkuzhi, the bus stop nearest to my hostel. The bus ticket cost Rs 28. 

East Fort and Thampanoor are two central hubs in Trivandrum. They are just one bus stop away from each other. To catch long trains or buses, we often have to visit the Trivandrum railway station and the KSRTC bus stand in Thampanoor. Whereas East Fort hosts the central private bus stand and also the renowned Sreepadmanabhaswamy temple, nearby Puthenmalika or Kuthiramalika Palace, Methan Mani, and Margi Theatre.

Since I was seeing that bus route after six years, the familiar sights made me nostalgic, and the new sights made me realise how much Trivandrum had changed in the past years. I used this bus ride to refresh the Kazhakuttam – Bypass Road – East Fort bus route and relearn the names of all the important bus stops in between. I also jotted down the interesting sights and building names on the way so I could visit them later.

Here’s the list of bus stops and building names I jotted down: Kazhakuttam – Techno Park – Lulu Mall – Chackai – Petta – Pattoor, famous for its church – Regional Institute of Ophthalmology – State Mental Health Authority – Government Stamp Manufactory – Indian Red Cross Society –  General Hospital Junction – St Joseph’s Higher Secondary School – University of Kerala – Kerala University Library – Palayam –  Chandrasekharan Nair Stadium, where I once ran a 2K women’s night run with my IT friends – Palayam Church – A temple and a mosque sharing a wall – Sree Shakthi Vinayaka temple – M G Road – Statue – Government Secretariat on the left – Ayurveda college – Pazhavangadi, famous for its temple – Sreemahaganapati temple – Thampanoor – Trivandrum Railway Station – KSRTC bus station – Gandhi park – Famous textile shops like Jayalekshmi, Pothys, etc – East Fort. 

Trivandrum City Bus Tour 

The transport bus I boarded dropped me off at East Fort. I enquired about the city bus tour at the bus stand. KSRTC Swift’s Nagarakazhchakal ride is an open bus tour that covers the main roads and tourist spots in Thiruvananthapuram city. It runs hourly services between 3 p.m. and 10 p.m. The upper deck costs Rs 200 per seat, whereas the lower deck costs Rs 100. You can book the tickets online.

As it covers many important locations in Trivandrum, such as East Fort, Palayam, Airport Road, Shanghumugham Beach, and Lulu Mall, I would recommend it to anyone visiting Trivandrum for the first time, especially on a short trip. Since I counted myself a local and had a month at my disposal, I chose to explore the city at my own pace. 

Bustling Chalai Bazaar

I walked to the nearby Chalai Bazaar. This market street has a lot of history. It is the oldest and busiest marketplace in Trivandrum.

“The narrow, crowded road starts from the East gate and ends at Killipalam. The Diwan of Travancore, “Raja” Kesava Das, established this ever-vibrant market during the closing years of the 18th century. During the rule of Karthika Thirunal Rama Varma (1758-1798 AD), Padmanabhapuram was the capital of Travancore. The king, who wanted to spend his life near the renovated Padmanabha Swamy temple, shifted the capital from Padmanabhapuram to Thiruvananthapuram. Kesava Das realised the importance of developing a market for the supply of goods in the capital city, which led to the genesis of the Chalai market.”- Chalai.org

Bustling Chalai Bazaar

Even on a Thursday morning, the lanes of Chalai market were bustling with activity. The small roads were congested with autorickshaws, two-wheelers, stalls on the sides, and people walking in both directions.

A few of the shopkeepers looked at me with surprise. Maybe, a woman in a purple kurta, holding onto a purple umbrella, strolling through the streets of Chalai Bazaar, with a clueless expression half-hidden by the sky-blue mask over her face, was a funny sight to them. Or maybe, my school-kid-like shoulder bag made them wonder if I was skipping school, college, or work. I wonder if anyone guessed it right: that I was skipping life, just its conventional side, though.

Meanwhile, many other shopkeepers heartily invited me to their shops. Speaking of which, like Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans in Harry Potter, there were shops of all kinds in this bazaar. Shops that sold gold and silver jewellery, brass and aluminium vessels, to ones that sold bathroom fittings and plywood. Not to forget, restaurants, textile shops, shops selling kitchen utensils, gas stoves, furniture, mattresses, mats, mirrors, clocks, perfumes, mud lamps, incense pots, brass trophies, lamps, and even paintings, traditional home decor like wooden snake boat sculptures and nettipattoms– an ornament worn on the forehead of elephants during temple festivals, artistic locks called manichithrathazhu, golden trishools and silver utensils.

Chalai Mutharamman Temple

But my favourites were, of course, the stalls that sold flowers: roses, jasmines, pink oleanders, and yellow and orange chrysanthemums. I watched in awe as the seller dipped gorgeous red rose garlands in and out of a bucket full of water to keep them fresh. 

There was a temple named ‘Chalai Mutharamman Kovil’ and a mosque, ‘Chalai Juma Masjid,’ in that lane. Stalls that sold flowers and incense for the pooja or temple services were also nearby. A wedding card shop named Chinthamani also caught my eye. 

I walked all the way to Aryasala and returned to my starting point at the entrance of Chalai market. On my return stroll, as I reached the Mosque, I could see the renowned Sreepadmanabhaswamy temple at a distance. In a country scarred by the communal tensions between its two main religions, sights like this fill me with hope. But the hateful comments and political and religious intolerance we witness every day on social media and news make me fear for my country’s future, too. 

Social media is not a good representation of reality. It’s easy to end up with hatred, jealousy, low self-esteem, racial prejudice, and religious intolerance if your only source of the real world is the lies, filtered photos, polarised opinions, and stereotypes propagated through social media. That’s why it’s so important to explore the real world, interact with real people, and listen to their life stories, not just the curated photos in their Insta grid. 

Gandhi Park

Even before hopping down at the KSRTC bus stand, I had seen the Gandhi Park nearby. So soon after exploring the Chalai Bazaar, I walked through the park. There was a raised platform with a Gandhi statue. The engraving under the statue read “My life is my message. Mahatma Gandhi. Father of the nation. 1869-1948.”

“My Life Is My Message.” – Mahatma Gandhi

Under the shade of trees, there were many benches where people sat reading their morning newspapers, making calls, waiting for a bus or train, or simply passing the time. Behind them, there were photo walls, depicting key moments from Gandhi’s life, like his birth, studies in London, protests in South Africa, Satyagrahas in India, the Dandi March, the Quit India Movement, and his assassination.

While I was photographing these walls, a few uncles and youngsters sitting on the nearby benches turned around and gazed at the walls too. I couldn’t help but smile. 

Gandhi’s life as depicted at Gandhi Park, East Fort.

Many people think fine arts is a waste of time and money. Some have said this to my face regarding my writing as well. Here’s my two cents about it. Irrespective of how my life will pan out in the future, I believe this world needs more artists and writers. 

When a photographer focuses his lens on a war scene, the entire world will take notice, too. Without such witnesses, politicians could easily hide war crimes and genocides from our view. When an artist takes up a social cause, their work can create ripples in society. A good writer, driven by truth and freedom, is not only a mirror of society but also a powerful voice for human rights.

Second Breakfast

By the time I finished my stroll, my simple idli-coconut chutney breakfast had been digested. I had to call for reinforcements. So I went to a nearby small restaurant and had a big glass of Sharjah shake and an uzhunnu vada (urad dal fritters) with some coconut chutney. I badly needed it because I had so many more spots to cover that day. 

To be continued… 

Author’s Notes

~ All content on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ This blog is part of a series exploring my travels through Trivandrum, the capital city of my home state, Kerala, in India. You can read more posts from this series here. Trivandrum | Kerala| India

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September 10, 2025, Wednesday – Day 1, Moving to Trivandrum

I bid a funny goodbye to my family before my brother dropped me off at Kollam Railway Station. My parents were like: “After exploring Trivandrum, come straight home. Don’t take any deviation to Goa or the Himalayas.” Well, in my defence, they were the ones who put the idea into my head. All the more reason to take a deviation.

I wasn’t expecting my train journey from Kollam to Kazhakuttam to be eventful. After all, it was the same train I took on September 8th for my hostel hunt in Kazhakuttam – the Kollam-Kanyakumari MEMU at 11:35 am that reaches Kazhakuttam by 12:47 pm. But something important did happen. Something that will probably stay with me for a very long time. 

At Kollam Railway Station

I reached the station early. The railway authorities had yet to announce the platform of my train. Since it was bound to the Trivandrum side and platform 1 was occupied, I assumed the train would come on either platform 3 or 5. So I climbed the overbridge with my suitcase in hand and laptop bag on my shoulder and waited at the top for the announcement. 

The bags were quite heavy. Along with my clothes and laptop, I had also squeezed in my two journals and the two books I was reading at the time: The Personal MBA by Josh Kaufman and Samarathinu Idavelakalilla by V.S. Achuthanandan, a former Chief Minister and one of the most popular Opposition Leaders of Kerala. P.S. I’m not a light packer when it comes to books. ‘Cause I need books for all my moods.  

A Malayali-Tamil Couple

There was quite a crowd at the top of the bridge.  Just next to me, a couple also waited. They were speaking in a mix of Malayalam and Tamil, probably an interstate couple. They were both much taller than I and well-built. Seeing them, I wished I had their physique so I could carry my luggage much more easily. The lady gave me the vibe of a strict and serious person.

After some time, everyone around me ran to the third platform. I looked at the screen showing updates of the trains and noticed that the authorities had assigned platform number 3 to my train’s number. A train had just arrived at that platform. So, carrying my heavy luggage, I climbed down the stairs and ran to the train as fast as I could. 

I noticed that the Malayali-Tamil couple was sitting on the window seat of a coach. I confirmed that it was the right train and got inside. There was an empty seat opposite them. 

I smiled at them and kept my suitcase under the vacant seat opposite them, and then occupied the seat, still holding the laptop bag and my phone in my hand. 

Paapa 

Suddenly, the Tamil Chetan from the couple asked me, “Paapa, paiiya mela vekkattuma?” meaning “Child, shall I put the bag at the top(on the rack)?”

I’m 32 years old. Both my paternal and maternal grandparents have passed away. So there are not many people left in this world who would call me a child or a baby. Naturally, his words touched me.

I wanted to accept his help right away, but a part of me was worried about how I would take the bag from the luggage rack later, since it was at quite a height. Still, since he asked so nicely, I said yes and gave him my bag. 

Luckily, he was not a bad person and did not run away with my laptop. In fact, he carefully put the bag at the top and reassured me with a smile.

A Phone Call 

Everything was going on smoothly. But in between, this Chetan got a brief call from someone. The caller informed him that they had mailed him a medical report. After disconnecting the call, Chetan soon forwarded the medical report to a doctor and got on a call with him. They talked about medical reports and scans for a while. Once he got off the call, he took a deep sigh. Then explained the matter peacefully to his wife.

Apparently, her Thyroid values were high. Around 11, instead of the normal 4.5 or 5. The doctor warned that if she conceived at that point, there was a high probability that the child might suffer from brain damage. So the doctor advised them to spend the next few months concentrating on reducing the thyroid levels first, before conceiving. 

The Chechi (the wife) listened peacefully for some time, but soon her eyes teared up. Despite Chetan pulling her into a hug and reassuring her with comforting words, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. 

Teamwork 

Motherhood is such an emotional rollercoaster for women. Especially for those who have been craving or waiting for it for a while, it can be a completely vulnerable area. Even though I’ve never had a baby, as a woman in her thirties who contemplates motherhood occasionally with my own personal set of worries, like the ticking biological clock, I could completely understand her meltdown.

I didn’t want to make them uncomfortable, so I concentrated on the sights outside. But I couldn’t help but hear their worries. 

Contrary to the worst-case scenarios my anxious mind was predicting, there was no fighting or shouting. They spoke politely and treated each other with gentleness. They planned as a team to follow a diet and exercise regimen to reduce the wife’s thyroid levels.

Her husband reminded her that it was not about rushing and having a baby just because they wanted to. They both needed to get fit and maintain a nutritious diet… not only to ensure their baby would be born healthy, but also to have enough energy to care for the child in the years to come.

Reflections

They reminded me of something one of my Geography teachers had advised us girls years back. He said, “Choosing your life partner is one of the most strategic decisions you will ever make in your life”. 

When we creased our eyebrows in displeasure, he explained: “If you ever decide to get married, in this patriarchal world, it is crucial that you choose a man who supports your dreams and will work as a team with you to get there. Choose someone who treats you as an equal and a friend, with love and support, even on the hardest days, especially on the hardest days.” 

Looking at that couple, who were handling a sad moment with so much love, understanding, and tenderness, I realised what my teacher was trying to say that day. There was no blaming involved. Both of them took responsibility, made a plan, and were determined to face the problem head-on as a team. 

A Prayer

The couple got off a few train stops before me. But as they rose to leave, that Chetan stopped in his tracks, turned to my side, and asked me: “Paapa, bag eduthu tharattuma?” (“Child, shall I take down the bag for you?”)

I was so overwhelmed by their care and thoughtful gesture. I said I would take the bag by myself when I reached my stop and thanked them both. 

I’m no God or seer, but I wished in my heart that those two would resolve their medical issues and have a happy and healthy baby before the end of this year. I wanted to hold their hand and tell them the same, but of course, I didn’t; they would have thought I was a lunatic, a weirdo, or a fake fortune teller trying to scam them. 

Remember that scene in Friends where Chandler talks about Monica to Erica, the mother of their adopted twins? 

“I really want a kid. And when that day finally comes, I’ll learn how to be a good dad. But my wife… she’s already there. She’s a mother… without a baby… ” – Chandler Bing

That was what I wanted to tell God that day. “I would love to have kids someday. And I promise I will learn to be a good parent. But that young couple… they are already a father and mother… two good parents… without a child. Please listen to their prayers and grant their wish ASAP.”

A New Couple & Their Baby

As soon as the couple got off the train, two young girls occupied the vacant seats. So when another couple with a baby in their arms approached our seat, the middle-aged man who sat next to me and I got up reflexively. Maybe because we were both still in the hangover of the meltdown we had witnessed. 

This new couple’s adorable baby kept babbling all the time, bringing smiles to all of our faces. When the train left the Kaniyapuram stop, I tried to pull my luggage from the rack. Seeing my struggle, the child’s father helped me with that. I thanked him and walked to the door, carrying my suitcase and laptop bag.

A Grandpa

A grandpa in a lungi and white shirt, with a big, grey moustache, who was standing near the door, worried about the weight of my luggage and said he would help me when I got off the train. I assured him I was fine and that I could manage the weight of my luggage. We chit-chatted until I reached my stop, and I learned that he was going to Nagercoil. He reminded me of one of my maternal grandpa’s friends. 

Hostel Life Begins

Because of the heavy luggage, I took an autorickshaw from the Kazhakuttam railway station to my hostel. At first, the autorickshaw driver was irritated when he found out that my destination was nearby. But I chit-chatted with him, and he soon opened up about how apps like Uber and Ola got on his nerves, by creating high competition. 

Even though I struggled to remember the path or recognise the buildings on the way, thanks to Google Maps and the auto-chetan’s help, I soon reached my hostel safely.

Overall, it was a lucky day for me. Everyone was trying to help me, maybe because of the heavy luggage. I hoped luck would stay on my side throughout these trips, at least for the next 30 days.  

When was the last time you packed up and moved to a new city? Was it a pleasant experience or a challenge? Also, have you ever come across someone unforgettable during your daily train or bus rides? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments!

Author’s Notes

~ All content on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ This blog is part of a series exploring my travels through Trivandrum, the capital city of my home state, Kerala, in India. You can read more posts from this series here. Trivandrum | Kerala| India

~ A big shoutout to my friend Vijaya Raghavan for helping me with the Tamil transliterations used in this blog. If you read Tamil and enjoy thrillers, do check out his Tamil novel பிரதிமை. I’m still waiting for that English translation he promised ages ago.

Kazhakuttam railway station, Trivandrum. kidseye.jpg

Thiruvananthapuram (or Trivandrum) is the capital of my home state, Kerala. If you’re a family member or close friend, you probably already know that I worked there for four years during my not-so-fulfilling IT days, before quitting the field altogether to pursue my love of literature and creative writing.

Going on an India Trip, pursuing a Master’s in English Literature, and publishing my first book were my three immediate goals after quitting IT in 2018. With God’s grace and the support of my loved ones, I was able to cross off the last two from my to-do list. But the first dream still eludes me. 

First Failed Attempt in 2019

Like I mentioned on my blog, ‘My Quintessential India Trip Dream,’ I did make a vague plan and set out on a solo trip back in 2019. However, due to some personal issues that I faced in the middle of the trip and safety concerns raised by my family, I had to wrap it up after spending two to three days exploring Trivandrum and return home. 

If you’re from Kerala, then you might understand when I say travelling was not on any of our priority lists in the years that followed. Kerala suffered from adjacent years of floods and landslides in 2018-19, even as we were recovering from the aftermath of Cyclone Ockhi in 2017 and the Nipah virus outbreak in 2018. And then the entire world got hit by the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 and went into a partial hibernation/full-on self-preservation mode till 2023. Like humans all across the globe, I also focused on staying alive, ensuring my family’s safety, finding a job, and then keeping it during that challenging phase.

Trivandrum Plan 2025

As you might already know, I’m chasing my travel dreams again this year. My initial plan for Trivandrum was to visit only a few familiar and touristy places, such as Kovalam, Palayam, Varkala, and the new Vizhinjam Harbour. Since many trains ply between Kollam and Trivandrum daily, I reckoned I could easily catch the to-and-fro morning and evening passenger trains for these trips. 

But the extremely slow pace at which I tackled my Kollam itinerary and the way the itinerary grew longer during the process put things into perspective for me. I learned I’d have to hyperfocus and set clear deadlines to increase the pace and efficiency of this travel project. So, scrapping my initial plans, I decided to stay in Trivandrum for a month to explore it in detail. 

September 8, 2025, Monday – Day 0, Hostel Hunting in Kazhakuttam

So, after my six-year hiatus, I landed in Kazhakuttam, the tech zone of Trivandrum, on September 8, 2025, to hunt for a hostel.  When I say I returned to Trivandrum after six years, you must know there were negligible exceptions like the one time I landed outside Technopark early morning for a 3K run and the once-in-a-blue-moon night car rides to the airport. 

Of course, these short errands didn’t prepare me for the vast changes Trivandrum and especially Kazhakuttam had gone through in the last six years. 

When I landed at Kazhakuttam Railway Station and effortlessly traced the old paths back to Technopark and the nearby Le Arabia restaurant for lunch, paths I used to walk regularly with my IT and train friends, I thought this visit would be a piece of cake. But, nothing prepared me for the labyrinth of a six-lane configuration, with two additional service roads, and a 2.7 km long four-lane flyover at the  Kazhakuttam roundabout. 

To say that I was intimidated by this sight would be an understatement. It took me a while to figure out which was which and where to go to reach a particular spot. But I asked myself to push through because being scared is never the right way to live our lives. Besides, navigating all the states of India by public transport is, anyway, not for the faint-hearted. 

Hostel Selection Criteria 

I was on the lookout for an affordable hostel, preferably with a monthly rent in the range of Rs 5,000-6,000. I wanted both food and accommodation, so I knew I would have to check for three or four sharing rooms.

Actual Hunt

I had already called a few hostels and inquired about their rates. The first one was a premium accommodation with no food. Single rooms were available for Rs 1,000 per day, and a total of Rs 8,000 per month. Obviously, it was too expensive for my budget, so I didn’t visit it.

There was a ladies’ hostel close to the Kazhakuttam bus stop. The location was definitely an advantage. One vacancy was there in a 4-sharing room for Rs 4,500, requiring an advance payment of Rs 2,000, but food was not available. We had to cook by ourselves. I didn’t opt for this place since the rooms looked too congested and untidy. The bed was also only available for exactly one month, which meant I wouldn’t have the option to extend my stay if required.

Eventually, I ended up walking all the way from Kazhakuttam to Attinkuzhi, the bus stop between Technopark Phase 1 and Phase 3, and then towards the Kallingal service road to visit Mini’s Home Stay. This ladies’ hostel had a lot of positive reviews on Google. Many praised the friendly nature of the owner, that it was run entirely by women, and the quality of the food. When I visited the hostel and spoke with the owner myself, I felt that the reviews were genuine. She was so warm and friendly. And also so chill, a quality I’ve seen very rarely in hostel matrons. 

The dormitory room with four members costs only around Rs 4,500, while a three-sharing bedroom with an attached bathroom costs Rs 5,000. The matron told me that they had three buildings in total. The one I visited that day was their oldest building. They had two more buildings, where three, four, and five-sharing rooms were available in the price range of Rs 5,000-6,000. 

Eventually, I chose a four-sharing room in their second building (the semi-new one) and ended up spending the last one month (September 10 – October 9, 2025) there. I had a wonderful time with my affectionate roommates, hostelmates from other rooms and buildings whom I met and interacted with during meal times, Chef Sabitha Chechi, and the owner, Mini Aunty. A big hug for their love and support over the past month!

Why Kazhakuttam?

I chose Kazhakuttam and the Technopark area for my stay because I was familiar with the place and the roads remained well-lit and active even at 10 p.m. Since many employees worked night shifts, the hostels allowed us to return as late as 10:30 p.m., which was convenient for me whenever I came back late from remote locations or after strenuous treks.

Places & Mode of Travel

In the morning, I had travelled to Kazhakuttam from Kollam on the 11:35 am Kollam-Kanyakumari MEMU train. The ticket cost only Rs 15, and I reached by 12:50 pm. As planned, I didn’t take autorickshaws or buses for all my other errands. I walked to various hostels and eateries. I had my lunch from  Le Arabia near Technopark, and a yummy Sharjah shake from the Chayapranthan shop near Attinkuzhi in the evening. Similarly, I caught the evening 6:20 pm Kollam passenger train to return home, after a quick visit to the nearby St. Joseph’s Church at Kazhakuttam, the one I used to attend regularly during my IT days. 

This became my modus operandi for navigating all of Trivandrum as well: travelling by public transport and eating at budget-friendly yet clean local restaurants.

Notes on the People I Saw

I reached Kazhakuttam in the afternoon around 12:50 pm, so at that time, the repeating sight on the way was people hurrying off for lunch or resting in their drowsy moods. 

On my long walk from Kazhakuttam railway station to Le Arabia, I saw Al Saj Convention Centre on my left. In the nearby open spaces, a few people were sleeping in the open luggage storage areas of big Volvo buses, probably the drivers after a long, tiring trip. 

I saw a house with a beautiful garden where a running hose was left abandoned. I had the urge to walk into the property and turn off the tap, but chose against it. I didn’t want to trespass. Besides, what if they had dogs? 

Inside Le Arabia, while I was having my half biriyani and lemon juice alone, most of the people around me were employees of the Technopark. Men and women in formal or semi-formal clothes, their company IDs tucked in their shirt pockets or still dangling around their necks, discussing meeting updates and bugs while eating fried rice, or grilled chicken with kubooz and mayonnaise. It reminded me of my IT days, our team outings, and parties. 

Again, in the evening, as I was waiting for my passenger train to arrive, many buses from Technopark arrived at the station, stacked with IT employees. Seeing the crowd in the railway station at 6 pm, I asked one of the employees: “Is there some curfew now that all employees must leave the Technopark campus by 6?” She shook her head and said, “No, different companies have different timings. Some have shifts too.” 

Anyway, I felt so happy to see so many employees leaving the office at sharp 5:30 or 6 pm, setting clear boundaries at work and prioritising their personal time. During my IT days, I never saw such crowds at 6. Probably on weekends or at 8 pm, but definitely not at 6 pm and especially not on Mondays. I realised there were other factors at play, too. The total number of employees working in the Technopark and commuting to work must’ve drastically increased in the last six years, especially after the COVID-19 pandemic and the rise of remote and hybrid work cultures. 

Reflections 

Some days, I do wonder how my life would’ve turned out had I stayed in the IT field. Maybe financially and career-wise, I would’ve been much better off than now. But I’m extremely grateful for the slow pace of my current life, my mental health, the quality time I get to spend with my family, the books I read, the places I travel to, the scribbles that turn into blogs, every penny I make from my writing, the food on my table, the freedom and artistic joy I enjoy every day, every good person I meet, and every good memory we create together. 

Anyway, I felt super excited to move back to Trivandrum, even if it was just for a month. I couldn’t wait to explore all the places I hadn’t visited before, revisit my favourite spots like Palayam, and see how much Trivandrum had changed over the past six years. I wondered what hidden gems of people and places time had quietly saved for me to discover on this journey. I hoped for the best!

Stay tuned for more Trivandrum stories.

Are you someone who walked away from the comfort of a stable job to chase a dream? Looking back, do you feel it was worth it? Please share your experience in the comments. Your story might just inspire someone else to take that leap, too.

Author’s Notes

~ Big thanks to my friend, Deepak Swamy Murugesan, a.k.a Captain, for letting me use this snap of Kazhakuttam Railway Station in my blog! Check out his awesome creative works at kidseye.jpg

~ All content on this blog, except the above-mentioned photo, is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ This blog is part of a series exploring my travels through Trivandrum, the capital city of my home state, Kerala, in India. You can read more posts from this series here. Trivandrum | Kerala| India

Mangrove trees near Sambranikodi Island

You can read the first part of this blog here. 

A Sudden Camaraderie 

Even as I wiped my brow with a tissue and settled onto a window seat, I was still feeling embarrassed by my mistake. My mind was overloaded with the could-have-been and would-have-been scenarios:

“I should have called the staff yesterday and confirmed my seat. Then I wouldn’t have missed the boat at 10:30 a.m.” 

“Maybe I should just go back to sleep. When I wake up, there might still be enough time to catch that double-decker boat.” 

Just then, a mother-daughter duo rushed into the boat and sat on the seat behind me. I heard them inquiring about Mundrothuruth and Sambranikodi to the boat conductor. Long story short, they missed the ‘See Ashtamudi’ boat too. Not just them, a young married couple with a toddler, and a middle-aged Chetan, too.  I immediately felt less guilty about my mistake, and as I chit-chatted with these people, a sudden camaraderie grew between us. We decided to explore Sambranikodi together. 

A Blessing in Disguise

A gentle drizzle caressed the waters of Ashtamudi

The friendly conductors in khaki uniforms gave us detailed instructions on how to explore Sambranikodi. From them, we learned that our mistake was a blessing in disguise.

For starters, a ticket to Sambranikodi costs only Rs 20 in the regular passenger boat, compared to the Rs 400-500 fare (lower vs upper decks’ fares) in the double-decker boat. Even if we had boarded the ‘See Ashtamudi’ boat, we would have to pay an extra fare at the Sambranikodi boat terminal to enter the island, for the meal provided by Kudumbasree workers, and for the rides in the smaller boats. 

Of course, there are demerits, too. The regular passenger boat only went to Sambranikodi and did not explore the other islands, such as Mundrothuruthu or Kaakkathuruth. 

Boat Ride Begins

Like a swan, the boat glided through the water, away from the Kollam boat jetty. Close to the shore, the stink of Ashtamudi Lake and the sight of floating plastics distressed us. But then, it drizzled, and raindrops pelleted the otherwise serene lake.

Raviz Hotel, situated on the shores of Ashtamudi Lake

As we moved farther and farther from the shore, the water became clearer. In Malayalam, we say, ‘thelineer(clear water),’ or ‘kanneer poley(as pure as teardrops).’ 

The distant sights of mangroves and new shores filled me with hope and joy. Thanks to my recent wanderings, I could easily recognise the Adventure Park, Raviz Hotel, All Season Hotel, Kadavoor Church, and Kayalvaram on the opposite shores. I felt like a local guide when I shared my knowledge about these places with my fellow passengers. 

All Season Hotel as seen from Ashtamudi Lake

Goddess of Light

After a while, we came across the Valavila family estate. On its premises, there was a big, nude statue of a woman bearing a torch – Vilakkamma (Goddess of Light). 

Vilakkamma, or the Goddess of Light, on the premises of the Valavila family estate.

I could hear chuckles and a few murmurs of disapproval from the passengers: “Why does every female statue have to be nude? Why so much prominence given to her breasts and buttocks?” 

I wondered if it was just the artist’s gaze or the male gaze. I would love to see a modern woman or a gay artist’s interpretation of female figures such as mermaids, goddesses, and yakshis. 

Swan Boat

As the boat wafted through the lake, the water splashed sideways, exposing fish and attracting birds. Soon, a flock of seagulls and black cranes chased our boat. 

Cranes drifting gracefully on Ashtamudi Lake

The way they gracefully glided through the air and landed on the water with flair was nothing short of magical. Then they sailed behind our boat, their elegance making me feel as though they were princesses from a fairytale, cursed by a witch to become swans.

When we looked behind our boat, we found many seagulls and cranes chasing houseboats, full of tourists, probably visitors staying at Raviz or All Season hotels who booked the luxury cruise. The sight of the houseboats surrounded by these birds reminded me of Devasena’s swan boat in the Bahubali 2 movie.

Malayali Chill

Craving that Malayali chill? Flow smooth like our backwaters.

By then, all of us passengers were in a chill mode. Yes, the renowned Malayali chill.

Many indulged in photography for a while, but later, some kept their phones away, just to lie back and enjoy the enchanting lake with their naked eyes. 

Families, especially those with children, were thoroughly enjoying the trip. I could hear laughter and clapping from their side. 

Scenes on the Way:

Small houses and boat jetties along the shore of Ashtamudi Lake

As the journey progressed, we saw many small and large houses on the way. One spot even hosted a wedding reception. There were many small boat jetties or kochukadavukal too, such as  JK Flamingo Kadavu and Vanjipuzha boat jetty. 

Chinese Nets

Chinese fishing nets dipping in Ashtamudi’s waters

The sight of Chinese fishing nets dipping in the water and glistening in the sun mesmerised me. While I was staring at these nets and the crane-sages meditating on a single foot on the nearby wooden stumps, I overheard an interesting conversation between two passengers: “These nets are not as profitable as before. The fish have become tricky and intelligent. They’ve learned to avoid these nets.”

“Or maybe it’s because the fish population is declining due to overfishing,” another commented. 

A Free Rider

At the Vanjipuzha boat jetty, a white crane entered the boat and nonchalantly walked to the other side. Hearing the conductor’s chant “ticket… ticket…,” the passengers pointed to the crane and jested, “A free rider. Catch him!”

Fishing Boats

Fishing boats docked near the Kavanad Bypass Bridge

Apart from the houseboats, there were also many fishing boats in the vicinity. Soon, we came across a fleet of fishing boats harboured on the lake. The boats were so big. One of the passengers explained that, since these boats will be at sea for months as part of their fishing expeditions, they need large freezers to store and preserve the fish. 

Kavanad Kollam Bypass Bridge

We moved past small resorts named Paro and Ripples. Soon, I could see the Kavanad Kollam Bypass Bridge close by. There were fishing boats on both sides of the bridge. I loved it when our boat passed beneath the bypass bridge.

Lunch With Strangers

Kerala is all kinds of green: the soft green of tender leaves, the bottle-green of deep forests,
the shining greens of palms and coconut trees, and the mirrored greens that ripple across the water.

As the boat conductors had informed us, we reached the Sambranikodi Boat Terminal by 12 p.m. There was a DTPC office and many small shops with cool drinks and snacks nearby. I checked the signboards in the place and realised we were in Thrikkaruva Grama Panchayat. Sambranikodi belongs to Ward 13 of this panchayat. 

I could see speedboats plying from the terminal towards the direction of Sambranikodi Island. All the boats were full. 

The boat conductors led us through a small walkway and up a flight of stairs to reach a small restaurant named “Sajeev Tea Shop.” The signboard outside the shop said meals were available for Rs 80. I thought it would be a simple vegetarian meal, so I was delightfully surprised when the owners served us meals with fish fry, fishy curry, various thorans(dry, vegetarian dishes), and boiled tapioca(kappa).

New Friends

While gorging on the food, all of us introduced ourselves. One of the conductors was from Haripad. He was half-bald, but he had a charming, dimpled smile.

The second conductor was from Parassala, Trivandrum. He said he’s a graduate and talked about his brother, who is a  PhD holder. I could see the pure elder brotherly joy and pride in his eyes as he talked about his sibling. He reminded me of Mammotty’s elder brother character in the movie Vatsalyam. I hope I will make my siblings proud of my hard work and achievements, too, someday.

The middle-aged Chetan in our group, a family man, was a native of Kozhikode who worked in Trivandrum. Since it was tiresome to travel from Trivandrum to Kozhikode every weekend, he often used his free weekends and holidays for short trips like this. 

Whereas, the mother-daughter duo from Paripally explained how they made an impromptu plan to visit Sambranikodi in the morning, as the rest of their family had gone to a wedding. They didn’t have a reservation on ‘See Ashtamudi,’ but when they called the staff in the morning, they said if the duo could make it to the Kollam ferry by 10:30 a.m., they would let them ride along. The daughter was a graduate in Physics and was working as a teacher in an engineering entrance coaching centre in Trivandrum.

I told them I’m a writer who loves solo travelling. When I asked them their favourite local spots and requested them to recommend a few must-visit places in their native places, all of them were happy to help. They also enthusiastically inquired about my work life and travel experiences so far.

By 12:30 p.m., the conductors had to hurry off to the boat for their return journey. They bid us farewell, saying we will meet again when the boat returns at 3:15 p.m. 

Meanwhile, the rest of us walked leisurely to the DTPC office at Sambranikodi to take a Rs 150 ticket for the speedboat ride to Sambranikodi Island.

Onto the Sambranikodi Island

Boats docked near Sambranikodi Island

By then, the mother-daughter duo, the family man Chetan from Kozhikode, and I had formed an invisible travel bond that the staff started counting us as one family. We felt excited as we bought our tickets and entered the speedboat to Sambranikodi.

The boat rushed us to the island. From a distance, Sambranikodi looked like a tiny landmass, full of mangrove trees. The small, red flag, hoisted on a bamboo stem in the island, flying in the air, made me feel like we were an excavation gang that stumbled upon an exotic island by accident.

Sambranikodi Island as seen from the speedboat

Soon, we got down on the island. It was a tiny area, full of marshy land and mangroves. Most of the tourists and sellers were standing in knee-deep water of the Ashtamudi Lake. There was a ‘I Sambranikodi’ photopoint too.

As soon as I landed on the water, I felt the slippery, marshy ground under my rubber sandal. Soon, my sandal got stuck in the clayey mud, so I removed it and held it in my hand. Sree Chechi, the mother from the Paripally duo, warned me – “Moley(Daughter), there are a lot of oyster shells under the water. Wear the sandals. Don’t get hurt.”

I followed her sound advice and wore my sandals again.  Whenever I was on the verge of slipping, she and her daughter Appuz gave me a hand to keep myself steady. Since I’m not that tall, my two-sided shoulder bag was getting wet in the water, so Sree Chechi held it while I explored the island.

Before we could explore the island properly, a few guys approached us and asked if we were interested in exploring the more remote areas of the lake and mangrove forests in a small boat. The boat ride cost only Rs 100 per head. 

I was sceptical at first, because we had just reached the island in a speedboat, and these strangers were asking us to get on another boat. But one of the guy’s remarks, “if you don’t like the trip, you don’t have to pay us,” won me over. And I’m glad I succumbed to his persuasion, because it was the most magical part of the trip.

An Ethereal Boat Ride

It looked like a boat painted over shimmering molten glass.

Since the boat riders mistook us for one big family, we got one boat for ourselves. I sat at the front, followed by Sree Chechi, then her daughter Appuz, and Mani Chetan from Kozhikode. 

As the driver started rowing the boat, for the first few minutes, we passengers complained about how thoughtless people were for throwing plastics in the water or how the sun was at its peak. 

Fish & Prawn Farms

Then we spotted the chemeen(prawns) and karimeen(Pearl Spot fish) farms. Sree chechi commented on how she had last seen such farms in the Malayalam movie Ponman.  

A Prank

Small uninhabited islands near Sambranikodi Island.

Mani Chetan videocalled his family in Kozhikode and pranked them by lying that he was in Thailand. He laughed heartily as he revealed the truth and showed them the mangroves in the vicinity. 

Mangrove Paradise

Soon, we went deeper into the lake and into the mangrove paradise, and the whole mood changed. The clouds, forming ethereal patterns in the sky, wrapped us under their shade. I think my favourite weather in the world is a cloudy but not rainy day, with an occasional peek by the sun. 

Like a place straight out of the National Geographic Channel, right?

The sound of clashing waves felt like a sacred chant. The several varieties of mangroves thriving in the small, uninhabited islands intrigued us. Oh, we can’t call them uninhabited.  There were cats and dogs even there, and we wondered how they found food to eat. But of course, we knew: nature always provides. 

Seeing Mangrove saplings all around the islands filled us with hope.

Mangrove Warriors

I Mangroves.

Near the marshy shores, there were many new saplings of mangroves with just roots and the start of thick shoots, with no leaves. Sree Chechi reminded us of the mangrove warriors of Kerala: Kallen Pokkudan, T. P. Murukesan, and Mariamma Kurien, and how mangrove trees can prevent soil erosion and reduce the impact of natural calamities like tsunamis. 

Since mangroves grow in marshy, salty areas, they act as breeding grounds for many varieties of fish and also host many rare animals, reptiles, and birds. Some fish breeds use the thick roots of mangroves for laying their eggs. So, schools of fry swimming close to the roots of mangroves and cranes dipping their beaks low to catch these hatchlings are a common sight around Sambranikodi Island.

Jumpers

As I was lost in thoughts and the beauty around me, the boat slowed. The boatman told us that it was a shallow area. 

Sunlight dancing on the Ashtamudi Lake

Have you heard of stoneskipping? Tossing a flat stone across water, making it bounce multiple times before sinking. 

Many little fish around us were jumping on the water’s surface like a tossed flat stone. First jump, second jump, third jump, and gone, creating ripples all around. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I wondered if it was a natural phenomenon or if some wizard had cast a spell on the fish. 

Serenity

As if the mangrove trees were playing peekaboo with us.

It was so quiet and peaceful. I felt I was in a space where time was still, and worldly pleasures, pressures, and pain couldn’t permeate us. Other than the occasional caws of birds and the sound of waves, nothing broke us from our tranquil states. 

A place where the sky, lake, and forest meet must be heaven, right? Totally.

Beyond this point, we simply stopped talking. We had even forgotten that mobile phones and social media existed. Why take away from a blissfully beautiful moment, recording it, when we could simply live it? 

Soon, our boatman, Shaji Chetan, safely rode us back to Sambranikodi. When he dropped us off, he asked if we enjoyed the ride, and we told him we absolutely loved it. 

Gliding through the heart of a Mangrove forest

The whole ride lasted somewhere between 40 minutes and 1 hour. 

Back at Sambranikodi:

Photography 

After landing back at Sambranikodi, we spent some time posing before the photo points and atop the mangrove trees. I photographed the sellers who sold cut fruits, such as mango and pineapple, and their half-submerged stalls. 

Oyster Sellers

Oysters on sale!

I met another Shaji Chetan among them, who sold oysters. Initially, I mistook it for mussels or what we Keralites affectionately call ‘kallumakkaya.’ 

Like a Child

I loved climbing the mangroves and watching the school of fry swimming close to their roots. A few kids were trying to capture these hatchlings using their little hands, but failed. I followed their lead and tried, but I failed as well. 

Mangrove roots are nature’s nursery for countless fish

I found it hard to follow their lead again when they were soaking in the water and swimming around. I didn’t dare to try, partially because I was shy, and also because of the recent reports of amoebic meningoencephalitis or brain-eating amoeba in Kerala. 

After wandering around for another hour, we waited for the speedboats to return. I felt my skin was sun-baked and my hair sun-toasted by that point. 

I learned from a boatman that there are three boat terminals or boarding points to Sambranikodi. We came from Terminal 1 – Sambranikodi Boat Jetty. The other two are Manalil and Kureepuzha Boat Jetty.

Back to the Sambranikodi Boat Jetty: 

Soon, the speedboat that dropped us at Sambranikodi returned and took us back to the main boat jetty. There was a short wait for our initial passenger boat to return. We thought we might get bored. But the weather was so pleasant. So our gang sat on the benches, chit-chatting with each other, and admiring the waves crashing on the shore. 

Deep Conversations

Sree Chechi sat next to me. We talked about our shared love for travel. I felt so happy and lucky to meet her and the rest of the gang because humans with wanderlust are my tribe. She told me how her parents’ ancestral homes were close to each other, so she couldn’t travel much during her childhood. So when she got married, her only demand was that she wanted to get married to someone who lived far from her native place and would be supportive of her travel dreams.

Her husband has always been supportive, and they have gone on many impromptu trips. But with kids and professional responsibilities, a lot of their time was tied up. Only now, with their kids all grown up and independent, have they started exploring their travel dreams in full swing. They will be travelling to Delhi soon.

Sree Chechi suggested that I add her favourite spots, like Athirapally, Aryankavu, and Azhimala beach, to my Kerala trip itinerary. I diligently jotted down all the travel-related suggestions, directions, and learnings she shared with me.

Elusive Boat

As we were talking, the big double-decker ‘See Ashtamudi’ boat docked near the Sambranikodi boat jetty, and Chechi and I burst into a chuckle.

Both the upper and lower decks of the boat were fully packed. Security officers stood on both decks, guarding it.

See Ashtamudi — the double-decker boat that eluded us all day.

Chechi and I wondered out loud how different the day would have been if all of us had caught the double-decker boat on time. Surely, we would have had a more comfortable trip, but would we have had as much fun and adventure as we did? What were the odds that all four of us would’ve even said hi to each other inside that packed boat, let alone had deep conversations? For that, I’m nothing but grateful for the twists and turns of our fates.

Just then, our old passenger boat arrived and docked at the other side of the ‘See Ashtamudi’ boat. We had to walk through the double-decker to reach our boat. We met our familiar boat conductors. They greeted us and inquired about our day before hurrying off for their tea break. Once the double-decker boat left for Kollam, our boat was moved close to the jetty.

Return Journey: 

Spotted more Chinese nets on our way back.

We started off from Sambranikodi at 3:30 p.m. On the way, we saw the familiar small boat jetties, hotels, Chinese nets, seagulls and black cranes flying in unison, and men trying to catch fish with their long fishing rods. A group of young boys, probably part of the NCC cadet group, were practising canoeing on the lake.

Vanishing Trees – The grandpas sitting next to me talked about the medicinal values of Portia trees (Cheelanthi or Poovarasu in Malayalam), which they spotted on the shore, and lamented how their numbers were decreasing day by day.

Inauguration – Midway, the conductors told us that the Kollam MLA would inaugurate the evening service of ‘See Ashtamudi’ at 4:30. If we stayed back until then, we could watch the ceremony. The grandpas chuckled and commented sarcastically, “The same MLA we see now and then, right?” Not a bad comment for an MLA at all; much better than people lamenting, “Where is our MLA?”

By the time we reached the shore, the ‘See Ashtamudi’ boat was decorated with balloons. Why conduct a separate inauguration for a boat that has been in service for three years? Does the start of a second trip need such celebrations? I wondered. I guessed the authorities were also celebrating the successful three-year run of the boat. 

But one question asked by the grandpa still rang in my ears: “Ethra naal, or how long?” As with my experience at a few of the touristy and historical sites in Kollam, we have a reputation for starting great tourism ventures but not maintaining them well enough.

Goodbyes

Mangroves on my mind, forever.

As our boat reached the Kollam boat jetty, the rest of my gang huddled near the tea shop. We bid each other goodbye, hoping our paths would cross again on another trip. I walked away, feeling like a part of my heart was still wrapped around their fingers.

I realised that out of all my recent wanderings through Kollam, Sambranikodi was my favourite, not just because I had an adventurous day, but mainly because I got to share it with this lovely bunch of people. It was crazy how close I felt to those people I had only known for a day.

Like I said, people with wanderlust are my TRIBE. I feel most alive and happiest when I am around them. Every time I meet one, I have this sudden intrusive thought: like Pokémons, I gotta catch them all and try to keep them in my life forever. Silly me!

After bidding my fellow travellers goodbye, I visited the “See Ashtamudi” office again and inquired if there were any direct boats from Kollam to Mundrothuruth. To my dismay, they told me that the only such boat departed from the Kollam boat jetty at 5 a.m. I figured I would have to rely on passenger trains for that journey. Slowly, I walked to the nearest private bus stand, wondering where my next trip would take me, and about all the wonderful people in this world still left to meet.

Have you ever visited Sambranikodi? I’d love to hear about your experience.  

Author’s Notes

~ All content, including images, on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ This blog is part of a series exploring my travels through my hometown, Kollam, a beautiful district in Kerala, India. You can read more posts from this series here: Kollam | Kerala | India.

Sambranikodi Island – a Mangrove Paradise in Kollam, Kerala.

See Ashtamudi

On August 9, 2025, while I was walking through the shores of  ‘Ashtamudi Lake’, near the Kollam KSRTC bus stand, I noticed a double-decker boat, with the name ‘See Ashtamudi.’ Out of sheer curiosity, I jotted down the boat’s contact details. 

Back in the comforts of my home, I dialed the number and was delighted to learn that it was a passenger-cum-tourist ferry service, operated by the Kerala government. Starting at 11:30 a.m., the ferry offered a five-hour ride through the Ashtamudi Lake, helping tourists explore its associated wetland ecosystem, particularly the adjacent mangrove forests and nearby islands, such as Sambranikodi, Mundrothuruth, and Kaakkathuruth. 

Mundrothuruth and Sambranikodi were two spots on my Kollam itinerary that intimidated me, mainly because I had no idea how to reach those spots by public transport. I was planning to take a bus to Prakkulam (a village in Kollam) to catch a ferry to Sambranikodi, and a passenger train to Mundrothuruth to explore these islands. So imagine my joy when I discovered there was a direct ferry service from Kollam town to these spots. I leaped at the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

Bill, look at me! It was just an idiom!

Despite the Onam season and associated vacation rush, I was able to secure a reservation on the ferry for August 28th, a Thursday. 

August 28, 2025, Thursday

A Nightmare

My anxiety rarely lets me sleep on the nights before group tours or pre-booked journeys. As usual, on August 27th, I kept tossing and turning on my bed all night.

The next day, on the day of my trip, I woke up at 5 am, wide-eyed and startled by a nightmare. In the dream, I was at my maternal grandma’s house, too busy with chores, clueless that the hour needle of the clock was stuck at 9. I realized my mistake only around 11 am, with not enough time to get ready or catch the ferry. 

Imagine my relief when I woke up from this nightmare and realized that I still had 6.5 hours to catch the boat. Phew! They say, “You never realize the value of something until it’s gone.” Waking up from that nightmare, I understood how much I was actually looking forward to that trip. I vowed not to miss that boat and to enjoy the journey to its fullest, come what may.

Rain & Powercuts

I felt tense again as the morning was riddled with heavy showers and strong winds. The one question that plagued my mind at that point was, “Will the organizers cancel the ferry service due to bad weather?” Nevertheless, I tried to stay optimistic. 

At 8 a.m., while I was busy cooking breakfast, my whole house sank into darkness, thanks to a power cut and the heavy rain outside. There wasn’t enough power in the emergency light, so I had to switch on my mobile phone’s torchlight to continue cooking.

Alas! I realized my blunder. What if the electricity wasn’t restored anytime soon? Then my mobile phone might shut down by the time I go on the trip. How would I navigate a new place like Sambranikodi, click photos, and make notes about the trip without my phone?  What if I faced a critical situation where I badly needed my phone’s help?

I quickly switched off the torch and turned ON my phone’s power save mode. It turned out to be the right move, because the electricity was gone for hours.

Phone Calls

I had finished my household chores and freshened up, but my fear that the trip might get cancelled due to the poor weather got the better of me. So, at 10 a.m., heeding my brother’s advice, I called the contact number of the boat again. 

The staff didn’t pick up my call at first. When I retried, the line was busy for some time. Though the staff eventually picked up my call on the third or fourth try, they cut it abruptly, saying they were busy with a boat trip and asked me to call back later. The fact that they were working that day dispelled all my worries. 

What I Packed

The rain continued, but the heavy showers had given way to slight drizzles.

I wore casual clothes and rain-friendly rubber sandals.  Since it was raining, I packed my purple umbrella and borrowed my brother’s yellow raincoat as well. (Yes, the raincoat reminds me of Jonas’ yellow jacket from the Dark series.) A few plastic covers to keep the wet umbrella/raincoat. Some cash in hand. Some tissues, a mask & sanitizer. A one-litre bottle of water.  I went to the nearby grocery store to stock up on some healthy snacks and energy bars. But I ended up choosing Snickers and a few cream-filled croissants, purely for their taste. (Fair warning: You shouldn’t take diet advice from me. )

Nightmare Turned Reality

I left home by 10:40 a.m. After buying snacks, I boarded a bus to the Kollam KSRTC bus stand and walked to the nearby boat centre. I reached the boat jetty by 11 a.m., thirty minutes before the boarding time, or so I thought. 

My jaw was on the floor when the staff told me that the ‘See Ashtamudi’ Boat left by 10:30 a.m. My mind immediately went to full-on panic and disaster analysis mode:

“Did I hear the timing wrong during the call?” 

“But the Kerala Tourism website also mentioned the start time as 11:30 am.” 

“So how did I miss the boat? Oh, this is a nightmare!”

Seeing my confused face, the staff explained apologetically: “Due to the Onam rush, we had to convert the daily 5-hour trip into two 4-hour trips. The morning trip starts at 10:30 a.m., and the evening trip at 4 p.m., which will be inaugurated by the MLA today.”

After confirming that my name was on the reserved list, the staff also added, “We called everyone who booked a slot with us, but we were unable to reach you.”

My bad luck! What are the odds of missing a boat due to preponement? 

“At least, my intuitive powers are still intact, and the nightmare forewarned me.” I tried to look at the brighter side of things.

My DDLJ Moment

Seeing my sad face, the staff started showering me with options. 

“You can return at 4 p.m. for the second trip,” one of the staff suggested.

“Or there’s a regular passenger boat run by the government bound to Sambranikodi at the jetty now. You can get on that,” the second staff member recommended, pointing at a ferry at a distance. “It might leave soon,” he warned me. 

The Iconic DDLJ Train Scene.

Upon hearing his words, I sprang into action. Like Kajol in that iconic DDLJ train scene, I ran and leapt onto the boat’s deck. Though there were a few major differences:  There was no need for such rush or drama as the boat was still at rest, and of course, there was no SRK on the deck. Sigh!

To be continued…

You can read the second part of this blog here. 

Author’s Notes

~ GIF credit & source – Make A Gif

~ All other content, including images, on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ This blog is part of a series exploring my travels through my hometown, Kollam, a beautiful district in Kerala, India. You can read more posts from this series here: Kollam | Kerala | India.

Sambranikodi Island – a Mangrove Paradise in Kollam, Kerala.

See Ashtamudi

On August 9th, 2025, while I was walking through the shores of  ‘Ashtamudi Lake’, near the Kollam KSRTC bus stand, I noticed a double-decker boat, with the name ‘See Ashtamudi.’ Out of sheer curiosity, I jotted down the boat’s contact details. 

Back in the comforts of my home, I dialed the number and was delighted to learn that it was a passenger-cum-tourist ferry service, operated by the Kerala government. Starting at 11:30 am, the ferry offered a five-hour ride through the Ashtamudi Lake, helping tourists explore its associated wetland ecosystem, particularly the adjacent mangrove forests and nearby islands, such as Sambranikodi, Mundrothuruth, and Kaakkathuruth. 

Mundrothuruth and Sambranikodi were two spots on my Kollam itinerary that intimidated me, mainly because I had no idea how to reach those spots by public transport. I was planning to take a bus to Prakkulam (a village in Kollam) to catch a ferry to Sambranikodi, and a passenger train to Mundrothuruth to explore these islands. So imagine my joy when I discovered there was a direct ferry service from Kollam town to these spots. I leapt at the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

Bill, look at me! It was just an idiom!

Despite the Onam season and associated vacation rush, I was able to secure a reservation on the ferry for August 28th, a Thursday. 

August 28, 2025, Thursday

A Nightmare

My anxiety rarely lets me sleep on the nights before group tours or pre-booked journeys. As usual, on August 27th, I kept tossing and turning on my bed all night.

The next day, on the day of my trip, I woke up at 5 am, wide-eyed and startled by a nightmare. In the dream, I was at my maternal grandma’s house, too busy with chores, clueless that the hour needle of the clock was stuck at 9. I realized my mistake only around 11 am, with not enough time to get ready or catch the ferry. 

Imagine my relief when I woke up from this nightmare and realized that I still had 6.5 hours to catch the boat. Phew! They say, “You never realize the value of something until it’s gone.” Waking up from that nightmare, I understood how much I was actually looking forward to that trip. I vowed not to miss that boat and to enjoy the journey to its fullest, come what may.

Rain & Powercuts

I felt tense again as the morning was riddled with heavy showers and strong winds. The one question that plagued my mind at that point was, “Will the organizers cancel the ferry service due to bad weather?” Nevertheless, I tried to stay optimistic. 

At 8 am, while I was busy cooking breakfast, my whole house sank into darkness, thanks to a power cut and the heavy rain outside. There wasn’t enough power in the emergency light, so I had to switch on my mobile phone’s torchlight to continue cooking.

Alas! I realized my blunder. What if the electricity wasn’t restored anytime soon? Then my mobile phone might shut down by the time I go on the trip. How would I navigate a new place like Sambranikodi, click photos, and make notes about the trip without my phone?  What if I faced a critical situation where I badly needed my phone’s help?

I quickly switched off the torch and turned ON my phone’s power save mode. It turned out to be the right move, because the electricity was gone for hours.

Phone Calls

I had finished my household chores and freshened up, but my fear that the trip might get cancelled due to the poor weather got the better of me. So, at 10 am, heeding my brother’s advice, I called the contact number of the boat again. 

The staff didn’t pick up my call at first. When I retried, the line was busy for some time. Though the staff eventually picked up my call on the third or fourth try, they cut it abruptly, saying they were busy with a boat trip and asked me to call back later. The fact that they were working that day dispelled all my worries. 

What I Packed

The rain continued, but the heavy showers had given way to slight drizzles.

I wore casual clothes and rain-friendly rubber sandals.  Since it was raining, I packed my purple umbrella and borrowed my brother’s yellow raincoat as well. (Yes, the raincoat reminds me of Jonas’ yellow jacket from the Dark series.) A few plastic covers to keep the wet umbrella/raincoat. Some cash in hand. Some tissues, a mask & sanitizer. A one-litre bottle of water.  I went to the nearby grocery store to stock up on some healthy snacks and energy bars. But I ended up choosing Snickers and a few croissants with creme inside, purely for their taste. (Fair warning: You shouldn’t take diet advice from me. )

Nightmare Turned Reality

I left home by 10:40 am. After buying snacks, I boarded a bus to the Kollam KSRTC bus stand and walked to the nearby boat centre. I reached the boat jetty by 11 am, thirty minutes before the boarding time, or so I thought. 

My jaw was on the floor when the staff told me that the ‘See Ashtamudi’ Boat left by 10:30 am. My mind immediately went to full-on panic and disaster analysis mode:

“Did I hear the timing wrong during the call?” 

“But the Kerala Tourism website also mentioned the start time as 11:30 am.” 

“So how did I miss the boat? Oh, this is a nightmare!”

Seeing my confused face, the staff explained apologetically: “Due to the Onam rush, we had to convert the daily 5-hour trip into two 4-hour trips. The morning trip starts at 10:30 am, and the evening trip at 4 pm, which will be inaugurated by the MLA today.”

After confirming that my name was on the reserved list, the staff also added, “We called everyone who booked a slot with us, but we were unable to reach you.”

My bad luck! What are the odds of missing a boat due to preponement? 

“At least, my intuitive powers are still intact, and the nightmare forewarned me.” I tried to look at the brighter side of things.

My DDLJ Moment

Seeing my sad face, the staff started showering me with options. 

“You can return at 4 pm for the second trip,” one of the staff suggested.

“Or there’s a regular passenger boat run by the government bound to Sambranikodi at the jetty now. You can get on that,” the second staff member recommended, pointing at a ferry at a distance. “It might leave soon,” he warned me. 

The Iconic DDLJ Train Scene.

Upon hearing his words, I sprang into action. Like Kajol in that iconic DDLJ train scene, I ran and leapt onto the boat’s deck. Though there were a few major differences:  There was no need for such rush or drama as the boat was still at rest, and of course, there was no SRK on the deck. Sigh!

To be continued…

Author’s Notes

~ GIF credit & source – Make A Gif

~ All other content, including images, on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

August 15, Friday 

We Indians celebrate August 15 as our Independence Day. It’s also a national holiday for us.

Slow First-Half

The day began with heavy showers. I thought I would have to spend the entire day indoors. In fact, I spent the first half of the day plugged to my desktop, watching various news debates and analyses of how well India has performed in the last 79 years of Independence, and whether India is truly free. I particularly liked the Unacademy analysis of the same. But my deep dive into news channels and articles slowly turned into doom scrolling, and I had to remind myself to snap out of it.

I figured the best way to break my negative thought cycle and to celebrate my country’s Independence Day was to actually ‘exercise my freedom.’ So I decided to visit Kollam Beach and watch the sunset. 

Journey Begins

By 4:20 pm, I got on a private bus to the central hub of Kollam city, Chinnakada. Once I reached the roundabout, I spent some time at Supreme Bakers, buying hot samosas and some juice.

By 4:45 pm, I started walking from Chinnakada to Kollam Beach, an approximate distance of  1.7 kilometers, a mostly flat road. Two kilometers is the threshold I’ve set for my long walks. If I see a distance less than that, I always walk.

On the way, I saw many restaurants, like Rahath. The aroma of food always makes me hungry. There were also many shops on the lane, including ones that sold tyres and provided automobile services.

After some time, I came across the Kochupilamoodu bridge. I crossed it and followed the directions on the signboard. Soon, I could see the beach at a distance. 

Sea. The blue sea of freedom, and an even bluer, liberated sky. 

Sea. The blue sea of freedom, and an even bluer, liberated sky.

Nostalgic Sights

I spotted the Kadaloram Coastal Kitchen Restaurant on the left. As I neared the beach, the familiar and nostalgic sights of pani puri, Lazza Ice cream, and masala kappalandi (fried groundnuts mixed with masala) stalls greeted me. 

There were a few boats anchored in the sand. The familiar sight of old couples, young lovers, friend gangs, families, migrant labourers, and even pregnant ladies enjoying the sea, and street dogs sleeping in the shade made me feel safe.

A street food seller at Kollam Beach.

Strong Tides & Litter

Unfortunately, yellow ropes restricted access to the sea. There were also signboards warning about strong tides. 

For a minute, I wondered why the beach looked so untidy and littered today. Usually, when my family and I visit the beach after our Sunday mass, it always looks cleaner and more peaceful.

It was probably because of the monsoons and high tides. Maybe a lot of debris from the sea washed ashore.  Plastic covers, bottles, packages of various popular brands, beer bottles, and even coconuts lay on the shore. 

Some people were using this as an excuse to leave the wrappers of their food items on the beach itself, instead of disposing of them in the dustbins. I don’t like it when people disrespect nature and public places like this. I don’t like the “somebody will clean up after me” attitude either.

Beach Scenes

Am I aiming for the sun like Icarus in wax wings?

I walked towards the other end of the beach, following the yellow rope that restricted access to the sea. I could hear public announcements about the Gemini circus at Asramam Maidan. 

I entertained myself by paying attention to every beautiful sight and enticing aroma on the way. Multi-colored kites flying in the sky. Stalls selling fritters of different kinds: raw and ripe banana fritters, chilli and egg bhajjis, salted popcorn, gooseberries,  lemons, and grapes, cut and salted mangoes, pineapples, and oranges,  and white and pink cotton candies, also called Bombay mittai(candy).

I was amused to see a few pigeons and crows hopping on the sand for a long while. Why play hoppty-hop when you can fly? I guess they were searching for food.

At a distance, a kid was making a pretty detailed sand castle with multiple towers and a protective fort. The only problem was that the sand was too dry. So the castle kept falling apart. But her parents, who sat by her side, constantly encouraged her with motivating words and amused smiles.

Am I building a sandcastle on a beach, too? Will my dreams ever come true? I thought for a second. “Oh, let’s not open that door.” I trolled myself like Chandler Bing. 

Are We Simple Creatures?

As I continued walking, a group of young boys playing Panja Gusthi (Arm Wrestling) caught my eye. Funny enough, just parallel to them, a group of senior men was playing cards, with serious expressions.

Is this what internet memes mean when they say men are simple creatures? Their toy cars just get bigger, and their games and topics of discussion change. But underneath, they vibe just the same, and they never want to stop playing. 

I don’t either. Adulting is so difficult and boring, especially for adults. Most get too caught up in making a living and often forget to live. Men and women alike. 

People Watching & Sounds

Next to them, I found another senior group, seriously discussing current politics.   A boy in Barcelona’s red and blue jersey, with Messi’s name on the back, was playing in the sand. His father was lying on the sand next to him.

A pakshishasthrakkaran, holding a caged green parrot and a deck of cards, asked me if I needed a consultation. I said no, mainly because as Christians, the Bible teaches us not to get involved in any form of divination or fortune-telling. But also because I have enough past and present problems to worry about, why learn the future ones in advance? Let me encounter them in due course of time. It’s not like my anxiety would let me stop anticipating the worst anyway. 

I could hear a lot of different sounds around me at that time. The cotton candy seller’s bell. A kid was blowing his whistler toy. Broken bits of Malayalam, Tamil, Hindi, Telugu, and Bengali language conversations around me, and some languages that I didn’t even recognize.

Horses & A Camel

Two men were walking alongside their horse – the horse’s body was ash and white in color, but its face looked pinkish. Two little boys were on top. 

There was also a decorated camel in the premises. As I watched, two little girls mounted the camel. The camel started braying like a goat. Maybe it was hungry or tired. But its owner or caretaker pulled the rein that goes through the camel’s nose and forced it to stand on its feet. The poor thing kept braying even as it trotted with the kids on top. 

Whenever I visit the Thar desert regions of Rajasthan, I have always imagined enjoying a camel ride. But after witnessing this scene, I don’t think I will ever go on a camel ride in my life. I hope I will stick to this decision and not fall for peer pressure when the time actually comes. 

Pamphlets

As soon as I sat down on a black granite-paved cement bench for some rest, multiple people approached me with different demands. Some asked for alms and donations, while others tried to sell eatables and perfume.

An anti-drugs campaign was being hosted on the premises. There was a prayer group talking about this through the microphone in the open-air auditorium. A few teenagers handed over pamphlets with Christian messages, while others gave me brochures about the latest Samsung models and newly opened restaurants.

To escape the torrent of pamphlets and financial requests, I resumed walking. 

Wading into the Water

In my dreams, paradise is a beach, a hilltop, or a dense forest, and never a cityscape.

As I reached the steps near the open-air auditorium, I saw an area where there were no ropes restricting access to the sea. My mind was like – Bingo! Determined to play in the seawater for some time,  I walked down the cement steps to the wet sand. 

I could see eagles circling in the sky. I was staring at them, thinking about their religious significance in my father’s village. Even before I could complete my thought, a sea wave hit me out of the blue, and I got half-drenched. I wondered how I would walk around in my fully soaked jeans and half-soaked kurta. Well, when nature makes her plans, we can only play along.

I was happy to see a few young NCC cadets, in khaki uniforms, playing in the water. It’s as if once our feet touch the seawater, we become kids again, and all the problems of our adult lives have to wait.

The sea brought with it a tiny conch shell and a starfish, too. I wondered: where did all the conch shells go? In our childhood, my sister and I used to collect enough shells to make garlands on every beach visit. Now I feel lucky to find one. 

But then, out of nowhere, came the whistles of the coastal guards. “Are you guys mad? Didn’t you see the warnings and rope? Do you want to be in the mortuary?” They asked, hitting their wooden sticks on the ground angrily.

I quickly withdrew from the beach and climbed the cement steps. The NCC cadets followed me. All of us sat on the topmost, black granite-paved step, disappointed that our ‘sea time’ was cut short so fast. 

Wait for the Sunset

A toy and balloon seller at Kollam Beach.

It was just 6 pm. There were 40 more minutes for the sunset. So I decided to walk near the roadside, exploring the stalls, but mainly to air-dry my clothes. There was a row of stalls selling fake Crocs, sandals, shawls, purses, and plastic toys.

There was also a grillhouse nearby. I saw the Mahatma Gandhi Park for kids and the board to the Marine Aquarium. Since it was a national holiday, both were closed. I don’t think the marine aquarium is functional. From a distance, the park looked like it needed some maintenance work: removal of weeds and a fresh coat of paint. It is one of the challenges of a heavy monsoon place like Kerala. 

A Forgotten Mermaid

If the sea doesn’t want her, the grasslands will claim her.

Near the Mahatma Gandhi Park, there’s a mermaid statue. I’ve seen her before. But she was bigger in my memories. Did I grow up, or is it some other statue from another spot in Kerala that I was mistaking her for? I had no clue. 

She looked neglected with vines creeping around her body. It almost felt like a warning from nature: “If you are going to take her for granted, I will claim her back.” 

Boredom

With 25 minutes still left to spare and my leg aching, I settled down on the sand, next to a Hindi-speaking family, and gorged on a samosa and sipped some juice too. I was tempted to eat the rest of the samosas too, but I kept them aside for my family.

I found myself lamenting: Of all the days, why did the sunset have to be at 6:40 today? Why so late? I could be at home now, negotiating with my brother for that spare samosa. I laughed at my own hypocrisy. 

I speak about freedom all the time, but as soon as I feel hungry, I’m willing to abandon my rebellion to go home and eat. There was also the patriarchal conditioning: that involuntary fear and need to rush home as soon as it gets dark, even though by logic I know I’m safe to roam around my home city at least till 9 pm.

Seeing the dozing dogs, I wished I could curl up near them and sleep too. All the sophistications of being a human, only to stop ourselves from doing things that we actually want to do. The primal side in me complained, while the part of me that wants my countrymen to develop more civic sense called out my double standards. 

A Magician to the Rescue!

Even the most banal scenes is suddenly invested with so much meaning!

I resumed walking. With the crawling time and littered sand, the beach was just not vibing. I couldn’t even observe someone for long before they stared back at me. 

I knew just what I needed. Sushin Shyam to the rescue! I started playing my favorite composition of his – Cherathukal. 

Now the whole beach started vibing to the rhythm and mood of the song. People started moving in slow motion. The horses trotting, the crows flapping their wings, and the ball rolling in leisure… everything looked twice as beautiful. 

The white-capped young guy who rolled the thread of a green kite into a ball could easily pass off as the hero of this movie. The chetan selling cotton candies rang his bell in the pause between two notes. 

A kiddo in a black helmet, posing for a selfie before the setting sun, a grandma fondly watching her granddaughter play in the sand, the sand castle trampled by someone, the dogs slowly waking up from their slumber, bubbles in the air, empty beer bottles on the sand, the ebbs and flows of the sea waves, the crowd’s collective wait for the sunset…  Everything matched the song’s vibe. At least in my head, they did.

“Dan: That’s what I love about music.

Greta: What?

Dan: One of the most banal scenes is suddenly invested with so much meaning! All these banalities – They’re suddenly turned into these… these beautiful, effervescent pearls. From Music.” – A Quote from one of my favorite movies, Begin Again.

Sunset

The sun in its final act, and silhouettes of people bidding goodbye.

The final act. The showstopper himself. The yellowish-orange sun slowly dipped beyond the horizon, casting its hues on the sky, withdrawing to the castles under the sea for a long night’s sleep or another hard day’s labour on the other end of the world. Glad that he doesn’t have to follow the immigration rules.

I watched him go. And my world became dark again.

As I sat there, philosophizing about a simple sunset, reality dawned on me. The night colors were spreading. I had to head back home. 

In my country, if a woman faces a mishap, society will always ask: What was she doing out on the beach so late? What was she wearing? Did she provoke their anger or ego? Did she talk back to them? She should have defended herself. And never, how did they dare to do such an atrocious crime to her in a democracy like India? Why didn’t anyone react or offer her help?

An Independence Day Rant

As I walked out of the beach, I saw a police van parked outside and three ladies in sarees crossing the road to the beach happily. The road outside the beach had become busier. More people were coming in. 

I retraced the path back to Chinnakada, and noticed that the railway line was closed again. Some DYFI Samara Sangamam event was happening at the Chinnakada roundabout, and a politician was delivering a highly charged speech about the dangers of fascism to an impassive crowd. 

Gone… like it never was.

I couldn’t help but think: Another Independence Day will soon come to an end. But am I really free? Is my country free? What does freedom really mean to me? What more do I want from my country to lead a free life?

I want an India that’s safe for women to travel alone, not just in daylight, but also at night. An India where all of us youngsters, irrespective of our differences, can dare to dream big, work hard, and achieve them. An India where we can live life on our own terms. An India where everyone is treated equally, and human rights are not taken for granted, even if I’m a minority, a tribal, a woman, a differently abled person, or any other socially or financially marginalized community. An India where freedom of the press and creative expression of artists are not curbed by governmental censorship and propaganda. An India where the LGBTQIA+ community is not just decriminalized but also gets equal rights, like the freedom to marry the person of their choice and to start a family. An India where, for every line I write, I don’t have to be scared about governmental censoring or cyberbullying by party warriors. 

Oh, this rant could go on and on forever. 

I boarded a private bus and reached home by 7:30 pm. So much for my rebellion, I didn’t even stay out till 8. 

Happy Independence Day! Here’s to the small and imperfect acts of defiance and protests for every freedom and right that is still at stake. Coz, freedom ain’t free. 

Author’s Notes

~ All content, including images, on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.