City of Ram and Kalam

Rameswaram was our southern most point for this trip. We were both extremely excited at the prospect of seeing the ocean again. Both of us have an unsaid competition on who would be the first person to spot the ocean. On our drive to Rameswaram, we were both caught unsuspectingly when suddenly the ocean just appeared next to us (on right side first and then left) beyond the seemingly abandoned buildings less than 50 meters away from the road. 

Just as we were getting used to the idea that we had the ocean next to us on two sides, we came upon the Pamban Bridge - connects Pamban Island (on which Rameswaram lies) to the Indian mainland. Pamban Island has a number of small fishing hamlets along with Rameswaram town. The ocean on both sides has is vast with hues of blue, the bridge running parallel to the railway bridge which is running much lower, closer to the ocean.

As we drove through the small town of Rameswaram, the town was filled with lodges teeming with pilgrims. It had the small buildings typically seen in villages and other than the yellow autos plying the streets it seemed like an overgrown village. In our attempt to get to our hotel, we got stuck in a narrow alley more than once, sometimes these alleys were also barricaded. Forcing us to reverse through the narrow alleys. We also passed by the site where the late Honourable President APJ Abdul Kalam was recently laid and we paid our homages.

Our stay at Rameswaram was memorable but two experiences were truly outstanding. The first was the full darshan experience at the Ramanatha Swami temple and the second was the drive and the overwhelming feeling of being at the end of land, at Dhanushkodi, tip of the Palk Strait, where one can feel that the next land mass is a different country.

We arrived in Rameswaram in the afternoon and were planning to spend the afternoon just walking around an acquainting ourselves with the city. After a homely meal in one of the small messes, we spoke to a local who suggested that we do the darshan that day itself since the next day would be extremely crowded. There is an specific way to see the Ramanatha Swami temple, which includes bathing in the sea followed by being bathed (pouring a bucket of water) from 22 tirthas (wells) and they drying yourself, changing into a clean set of clothes before appearing before the Shiva Linga at the center of the temple. We found a guide that helped us through the process and proceeded to take a dip in the Bay of Bengal at Agniteertha.

The whole experience of running between wells with different waters (varying both in temperature and as Tarun says taste as well) was surreal. Along with a diverse community of people varying in ages, regions, gender, undergoing the same experience as us, the walk of the wells felt a unifying experience, neutralising a lot of differences. After changing, we progressed to the do the darshan which in itself was powerful. However, the experience and adrenalin rush from the 22 wells was something else. 

The drive to Dhanushkodi was another overwhelming experience. It was once a bustling border and port town, now reduced to a ghost town, since it got washed away in a 1964 cyclone . The town used to have a train station, post office, customs office, schools and a busy market. However, after the cyclone, the town was never rebuilt and was deemed unfit for living by the government. Now, one can see some of the relics of these buildings. The stones of the track ballast were still visible along what would have been the railway track, though the iron track itself is gone. Access to the town as well as the lands end on the Indian mainland going into the Palk Strait is along the ocean and sometimes even through the ocean. Currently only accessible using the permitted 4 wheel drive jeeps and vans but a road is under construction and should open in the next 6 months or so.

We were not sure if we will be able to get to the point where we are surrounded by water on three sides, with the Bay of Bengal on one side and the Indian Ocean on the other. When the driver did take us there, both of us were taken by the breathtaking view. It was surreal to be at this point that we had heard so much about. It would also be the closest either of us had ever been to Sri Lanka. What was especially intriguing was that the Indian Ocean had waves that rose at least 2 to 3 feet smashing into the beach and just 20 feet on the other side, the Bay of Bengal lay still and calm. It was surreal, unbelievable almost.

Karnataka Kavi: Kuvempu of Kuppalli

The Western Ghat or Sahyadri slopes in Karnataka make the Male-nadu region. 'Male' meaning ‘hill’ or ‘rain’ and 'nadu' meaning ‘region’. Many rivers originate from this region including the Tunga, Bhadra, Kaveri and the Malaprabha. The historic Dharmastala, the famous jog falls, Agumbe ghat (town with 2nd highest and last year the highest rainfall in India and also where Malgudi Hills was shot) are some of the famous places in the Malnad region. The Malnad Cuisine  tastes that we never knew existed but I think that deserves a separate post. 

We hadn’t really expected to do touristy things much during our stay in the hills as we were looking for a place to process all that we had experienced thus far. While we were enjoying the rain  (after a long dry spell of almost 2 weeks) and we were sitting in a little gazebo with a light drizzle all day long, our hosts at the Homestay suggested that we visit the home of the Poet Kuppali Venkatappa Puttappa popularly known by his pen name, Kuvempu. Kuvempu (1904-1994) had been conferred the Padma Vibhushan in 1988 for his contributions to modern Indian literature thought his poems, plays and novels. He is also the writer of the Karnataka State Anthem. While Kuvempu spent most of his adult life in Mysore as a professor at the Mysore University, he spent the first 15 years of his life in the region. 

Kuvempu’s ancestral home is set in the beautiful Malnad landscape. The poet’s 250 years old home has been restored and converted into a museum by the Kuvempu Prathisthana. We were told that the house is a quintessential Malnad house with a courtyard in the middle and jackfruit wood pillars. Interestingly, the house itself is the only house in the village of Kuppalli. 

Just about 6 kilometers from our homestay, the serenity and peace around the house with arecanut plantations in the backyard was calming. There was still remnants of the rain from earlier in the day. The house itself not only kept some of the artefacts and memorabilia of the life of the Poet but it has also retained the architecture of a Malnad home. Malnad homes are built for the monsoon, with their Mangalore tiles and sloping roofs and also the use of jackfruit wood (we were told that jackfruit wood is unique in that it expands very little with moisture, also why it is used to make musical instruments). It also has small rooms, with small windows (protecting from wind and rain) along with traditionally mud walls keeping the house cool during the summer months. However, many of the mud walls were replaced with cement during the restoration. The house gives us some glimpses of what life would have been in this region.

A short walk from the house, up the hill is a vista point from where one can see the surrounding hills and the poet apparently came to sit and think on a particular rock. The expanse of the hills with the green carpet that surrounded us was unlike anything we had seen so far in the region. While I felt at home in Theerathalli, I missed Panchgani’s clear view of the valleys and surrounding mountains from most of our drives. Because we were so deep in the midst of trees and the gradual slopes around us at any point we didn’t know how high we were, whether we were on top of a hill or in a valley. 

I have not been able to find many English translations of his poetry but was told that this serene and green geography seems to come up in many of his poems. This is the one that I found called “Oh mother, Blessed am I, to be born to you”.

Oh mother, Blessed I am, to be born to you
Blessed is my soul, to be nourished by your love
I don't care if you are adorned like a queen
I don't care if thou grant every wish, like Surabhi
All I know is my courtyard is filled with the fragrance
Of your sacred presence
Of the criticisms about your lacking, I am aware
The ridicules of being backward, you had to bear
Those adorned by gold, I shun
I regard you as the glorious one
In the luster of your eyes I open my eyes
With joy I'll grow in your holy land
Thy glory I'll pen; thy name I'll call
For the fortune of your service, I reject all

Kuvempu's house

View from Kuvempu's rock

Kuvempu's rock

Medimix: The steady fix

Our hotel toiletries have been cause of amusement for us throughout the journey. In some places, we get everything-soap, shampoo, conditioner and even moisturiser. Some places replace bathing soap with shower gel or give both. Some don’t give anything till we call the hotel staff. Some have two pairs of the toiletories-two shampoo, two shower gels. Dental kit and shaving kits are rarely given. Also, most hotels, even though low budget, are able to get some sort of branding on them.

But one product that steadily made its way through to our hotel (bath)rooms in southern states, without any hotel branding on it for most part, was the Medimix soap. The popular ayurvedic/herbal soap,  slipped through many a doors of the hotel rooms we stayed in. Its appearances were consistent till we made it to Mysore where the local (and older) Mysore sandal soap took over for a brief bit.

Medimix started at a very small scale from the efforts of a retired Indian Railway employee (Dr. VP Sidhan) hailing from a Kerala family of Ayurvedic practitioners. Over the years, the classic Medimix soap's branding hasn’t compromised itself in its colour, size, smell etc. over the years. It is still handmade with a mix of 18 herbs in a coconut oil base. The lack of hotel's branding on it is  probably the hotels’ way of expressing their respect for the brand this soap is. Its growth story has been phenomenal despite its no-frill advertising and marketing and simple packaging. 

Soaps are obtained through a process of ‘saponification’ where an alkali/base reacts with oil/fatty acids. (For those trying to run through their memory of organic chemistry classes, soap is a ‘salt’ of fatty acids where glycerin is also produced as a by-product and makes the soap, soapy.) With incredible demand and the  industrial scale of production, Medimix manufacturing involves dealing with large quantities (hot oil, part-processed and finished products). One can fathom the scale of its operation by the fact that it manages to produce over 100 million soaps every year!! What is difficult to fathom though is that it uses minimal electricity in the process. The entire process is completely manual using hand-operated mechanized devices with gravity playing an important role. We incidentally passed some of the areas where these factories are located including Tada and Pondicherry. We also ate at Sanjeevanam, groups' restaurant which specializes in nutritious vegetarian and yet delicious food.

We have reached Andhra and Medimix still maintains its small but definite presence. And everytime we open a new pack and hold the soap, it is fascinating to think that the last time someone held the soap was to pack it. And action of our hands to open and of those hands to pack, would be the same if recorded in reverse!! Just four hands separated with infinite possible units of time and space.

Mangalore Tiles

In Mangalore, we had contacted someone running a Mangalore tiles factory. They were kind enough to give us a tour of the production facility. During the tour, we learned that the pioneers of the Mangalore tiles were the German Basel Missionaries, a Christian missionary society that settled in Mangalore around the mid-19th century.  The Basel Missionaries discovered the rich alluvial soils along the banks of Gurpur and Netravati rivers and started the first factory in 1865, on the banks of Netravati river near Jeppoo under the management of a certain Geoge Plebst. Coincidentally, we ended up staying right next to this factory, and the Netravati river.

The process of seeing clay transform from the mud lying in the backyard of the factory grounds in its most natural, unassuming, non-technical and rawest form turning into beautiful burnt red tiles was incredible. The process of production is a mix of labour and relatively simple machines including preparation of the clay by its mixing, grinding; cutting the clay it into tile slabs of required sizes (pugging); pressing/moulding of the slabs into the tile presses; putting the stamp/seal of the manufacturer; and at various other points along the assembly line/conveyor belts. Once made, they are first dried naturally and then put into baking ovens where they harden to their usable threshold. The various categories of finished tiles are based on parameters such as strength, usage, ornamentation and so on.

Though the industry once provided an economical and reliable roofing material and was flourishing till few decades back, it is now facing a steep decline in terms of its demand. In the factory that we visited, some of the machines were not functioning because of lack of labour and lack of demand. There used to be almost 50 tile factories in the region but now only a few remain in operation. The industry had built itself upon the natural advantages of the region which included great quality of clay, firewood, labour and suitable weather. 

Several times we passed the black and white board reading The Commonwealth Tile Factory-Manufactures of Basel Mission Tiles, bearing the mark of the manufacturers Commonwealth Trust Limited (CTL). The board was peeling off with only a few characters making themselves visible to spell out what they meant. This surviving board, bearing the name of the factory that bore the entire Mangalore tile industry, felt symbolic of the strong and dogged fight the tiles are upto against the various alternate building and roofing materials. Thus it was only justified and, an event of immense happiness for both of us, when we found ourselves under a terrace tiled with CTL tiles (as well as tiles of the factory we visited), when we were hosted by the generous friends Neha and Shail in Bangalore.

Mangalore Files

After an hour-long drive from Manipal (after a stunning drive from Tirthahalli through Agumbe Ghats to Manipal), over a road that our friends in Manipal University said was being built for last 10 years, we reached Mangalore. The road indeed seemed to be a wonder of time as it couldn’t decide if it wanted to be 2 lane, 4 lane or no lane road. Trucks and cars kept surprising us by deciding to give their sneek peek in our lane from behind other cars and trucks in the opposite lane. We managed to reach by evening before sunset, after crossing the legendary NIT Surathkal and the new Mangalore Port.

The city not only has its name rhyming with Bangalore (not to forget Mangaluru-Bengaluru too), its one-way streets are also equal head-spinners for a new entrant. Apart from the one-ways, it also seemed to be high on dead-ends. We ended up on so many of them on the first day when we were trying to be innovative in trying to find our way without maps. In the few days we were here, we came across and went past a few major landmarks in the city such as the Municipal Corporation Building, Syndicate Bank building, Aloysius Chapel and so on. Every single time, these buildings just always appeared and we never could recall if we had driven before on the route that led us to these buildings-including the hotel we stayed in!! As if our human compasses were disoriented completely.

Other than this, our stay in Mangalore was extremely warm. After Ratnagiri and Belgaum, it was yet another city that people thought of as a 'retirement destination'. We came across quite a few people who were not even born here but decided to settle here after retirement. One was a early retiree couple in early 50s (or late 40s), husband was a retired merchant navy captain and wife, a chef. Also someone else who was not from Mangalore but worked in middle-east for greater part of his career and decided to move back not to his native place but Mangalore. The city was described as, and it also came across as a laid back town. Given the compact nature of the city (less than 200 sq km), most trips can be done in less than half an hour and hence like many other small towns, people come home for lunch and a siesta. 

Mangalore is a very old and historic city, and has references dating back to 1st century AD. At that time its name was derived from the river Netravati, which flows till now and meets the Arabian Sea south of Mangalore.  Within Karnataka, it is probably the only major city which is well connected by all modes and has an airport, a seaport other than connectivity through railways and roads. It is famous for many things and one thing that one can think of right from the top of their heads (literally) are Mangalore tiles.  Other than tiles, the city is also known for its beedis and also cashews. Mangalore port is the biggest exporter of coffee and cashews. All of it came in front of us at a Mangalore tiles factory we went to visit (see next post) where the tiles were being baked using cashew shells as fuel for the furnaces and as the staff smoked their beedis, we sipped on to our coffees.