Simple and Complex – Episode 4
Palakkad’s Simplicity: Small Things, Quiet Lives
This time, I was
travelling to Palakkad to attend the wedding of Haridas’s daughter. Haridas had
worked with me at Kerala House in Delhi. I had booked a room at Hotel Nalanda
Inn.
The bus I boarded
passed Nalanda and stopped a little further ahead. I assumed there might be
some traffic-related reason for the delay. When I looked out, I saw the
conductor get down and walk towards a public water tap to collect water.
I slowly got down from
the bus, walked back and reached the hotel. There were two hotels on opposite
sides of the road—Nalanda Inn and Nalanda Rich. My room was in Nalanda Rich.
After checking in, I had lunch at the hotel restaurant and rested for a while.
By around four in the
afternoon, I went out for a walk.
Palakkad Fort came
into view. I had visited the fort several times before. Adjacent to it is
Vadika Garden, for which I bought a ticket for ₹25. It is a pleasant place to
spend some time, especially with children. I walked around the garden for a
while and then came out.
It was around 4:45
p.m. The fort closes at 5:30. I spent some time around its surroundings and
continued walking. On the right, I saw the martyrs’ memorial and the park
opposite the fort.
It was the second half
of December, and people were busy with Christmas and New Year shopping. Since I
had nothing particular to buy, my only intention was to wander around and
observe the town.
There was a road
leading towards Thrissur and another towards Olavakkode and Kozhikode. I took
the Kozhikode road and eventually reached the town bus stand. After making
enquiries, I learned that I could take a Cherpulassery bus from the municipal
bus stand and get down at Peringode, where the wedding was to be held.
I decided to take that
route the next morning.
The Chirava
The walk also reminded
me of a call I had received the previous day from my friend Hari in Madurai. He
had asked me to see whether I could buy a chirava—a handy traditional
device used for grinding coconut on a flat surface.
During our recent
North-East India trip, our host in Guwahati was also a Hari. It was at his
house that my friend Hari had seen this device. He was fascinated by it and had
been looking for one ever since.
The new version of the
chirava is manufactured in Coimbatore. Hari had therefore asked me to
look for one in Coimbatore.
I thought it might
actually be easier to find one in Kerala than in Coimbatore. Coconut is an
essential ingredient in Kerala cooking, and such devices are therefore more
likely to be sold here. The manufacturers in Coimbatore, I have noticed, are
remarkably inventive. Give them an idea, and they will often create a device to
suit it. That is how this new form of chirava seems to have evolved.
My guess proved
correct.
I saw a chirava
displayed in front of a shop and bought two—one painted green and another in
plain steel. Back at the hotel, I sent a photograph to Hari.
His response was
immediate: he did not want the painted one!
So I agreed to give
him the steel one.
That night, Hari got
down at Palakkad Town Railway Station while travelling towards Olavakkode. He
had also come to attend the wedding. He came straight to the hotel. We had
dinner together and then, after collecting the steel chirava, he went to
the accommodation arranged for him near Olavakkode Railway Station.
A Quiet Morning
The next morning, I
took an auto to the municipal bus stand and boarded a bus to Cherpulassery.
Hari joined me from Olavakkode station.
We reached the wedding
venue quite early. We had idlis from a small tea shop nearby. The shop was run
by a couple.
What fascinated us was
the rhythm of their work.
They prepared and
served poori, idli, dosa and chapati with remarkable precision and without the
slightest appearance of hurry. Everything seemed to happen naturally, one after
another.
When I complimented
them on their work, the shop owner explained that their regular employee had
not turned up that day. Yet they had simply carried on with their business
without informing customers about the shortage or allowing it to disturb their
work.
There was something
deeply reassuring about that attitude.
The Wedding Venue
From there, we walked
to the Cloud Five Convention Centre. Women were busy cleaning and preparing the
premises.
Some of Haridas’s
relatives had already arrived. We noticed a temple nearby, slightly away from
the main road, and decided to visit it.
It was the Saariri
Durga Temple. There was a priest and two women there. It was a quiet temple,
with only a few people attending the daily puja.
I did not enter
because, according to the local custom, I would have had to remove my shirt.
Hari went inside and offered a puja.
When we returned, we
met the manager of the wedding hall. He told us that he was responsible for the
centre around the clock.
The convention centre
is owned by three people whose main business is tyre trading. The centre itself
has ample parking, a large hall that can accommodate around 2,000 people, a
good stage and a spacious dining hall. There is also accommodation behind the
main building.
Sreedevan, who had
worked with us at Kerala House in Delhi, and his wife Subha were staying there.
Sivadasan and his wife had arrived from Pathanamthitta. They had left at around
2 a.m. by car and reached Palakkad.
As we exchanged news
and stories, Haridas and Chandrika arrived.
Friends from
Thiruvananthapuram and elsewhere also joined us. Gopan, Shaji, Anila,
Krishnachandran, Surendran, Ramakrishnan, Raji, Sarasamma, Rajani, Govindaraj,
A.R. Raju, Dayakumar, Sreejith, Mohanan, Shailesh and many others came.
The gathering itself
became a celebration.
There was affection,
old friendship, laughter and countless memories being shared. Everyone seemed
genuinely happy to meet one another again.
Meanwhile, the wedding
ceremonies began with the reception of the groom and the wedding rituals.
The arrangements were
impressive. A large stage had been prepared, and photographers had been
provided with facilities to take good photographs from below.
But there was one
amusing contradiction.
The majority of the
guests could hardly see the wedding itself!
Relatives and
photographers had formed a virtual human wall around the couple.
The feast was perhaps
not quite as elaborate as those traditionally served in South Kerala, but the
women who prepared it had done an excellent job. The food was simple, tasty and
well prepared.
Five Cloud and the Women Behind It
What interested me
most, however, was something beyond the wedding itself.
Five Cloud is not
merely a convention centre. It is also an initiative that provides women in the
area with opportunities to earn a livelihood.
The ventures may be
small, but their significance is not.
Such small enterprises
can create employment, generate income and strengthen the local
economy—particularly by bringing more women into economic activity.
That, perhaps, is
another form of simplicity that we often overlook.
A small tea shop run
by a couple.
A woman earning through a small enterprise.
A conductor stopping to collect drinking water from a public tap.
Friends travelling long distances simply to attend a wedding.
An old-fashioned chirava bringing two friends together.
None of these things
appears extraordinary.
Yet, when we pause and
look closely, they tell us something important about life.
Perhaps simplicity is
not the absence of complexity.
It is the ability to
live with what is necessary, do what has to be done, and find happiness in
ordinary things.
That was what Palakkad
seemed to tell me this time.
