JUST ANOTHER YEAR
Prologue - ten past midnight January 1st 1997
New Year was always cold. Christmas, on the other hand, even in the North of Scotland where I grew up, was mild and damp; it rarely conformed to the classic image of snow and frost.
In Inverness my memory of 'first-footing' in the early hours of January 1st was of the intense cold and of neighbours slipping on the ice and crashing to the pavement. Though come to think of it, much of their lack of grip may have been due to John Barleycorn rather than Jack Frost.
Even now, many years and many miles from those days in Scotland, I can vividly recall the images - the population wrapped in thick jackets or coats, shuffling like characters in a Lowry painting, scarves hiding their mouths, woollen hats covering their heads. Only the eyes, cast downwards, can be seen. Nothing can be heard.
Perhaps Inverness is in the grip of winter right now. Perhaps neighbours are still falling over on the ice or trudging through the deep snow as they move around the cold, white town offering internal warmth from their whisky flask to friends and neighbours.
But not yet. In Inverness the old year of 1996 has five and a half hours of life to go. The shops will be closed, but the off-licences will be busy. Last minute plans are still being made for the night's festivities. It will be getting dark. And cold.
However, for me 1997 has already arrived. It began, not with a bang, but with a stutter. Across the water at Fort Cochi they were partying and burning an effigy of the old year on the beach, but here in Ernakulum midnight was marked by a few desultory fireworks which were just about audible above the phut-phut of the auto-rickshaws and hardly visible through the all-embracing darkness.
We should of course have joined the revelries in Cochi, but a combination of exhaustion, having arrived in Ernakulum from Tiruchirapalli at 5.30 this morning and the fact that the ferry stopped sailing at 9.30 p.m., has kept us in Ernakulum.
For us, therefore, New Year was marked by a meal in the roof-top restaurant and a toast at midnight, followed by sleep shortly afterwards. Meanwhile in Inverness there is still over five hours to go.
January 1997
Wednesday 1st
I've never been up at 7.30 a.m. on New Year's Day, except for those occasions when I hadn't been to bed. Today I had risen by then to prepare for our backwater trip from a village near Ernakulum. It was peaceful and quite magical being 'punted' along the narrow waterways past small villages, coconut palms, banana trees and a variety of birdlife. It was totally relaxing in the morning sun.
New year's Day used to be marked by the traditions Hibs v Hears local derby at either Easter Road or Tynecastle. This game was always rather subdued because the crowd were suffering a collective hangover from the revelries of the night before, and I suspect that most of the players were suffering from the same affliction. Certainly the play was always soporific and there was rarely anything as exciting as a goal to break the tedium.
Standing in the terraces one had to be aware of the people behind who were liable to throw-up without warning especially if they had just eaten an Easter Road Scotch pie, or to urinate into your anorak pocket.
This year I also attended a sporting event, but a rather different one. Every New Year Ernakulum stages the Indira Gandhi Boat Race, a lively series of races between local boats crewed by members of local boat clubs. It was all visually spectacular and there was strong rivalry especially between the large narrow Chundan boats crewed by many rowers. The overall winner, as last year, was . I particularly enjoyed the Irrukutty races especially when the crews became rather over-enthusiastic and managed to sink their boat after trying too hard to gain a competitive advantage. Our photo appeared in the following day's Indian Express as part of an overall crowd scene, though quite why we are both looking left when everyone else in looking right I simply do not know. I guess we were more interested in the crew of the winning boat than in the race for second place.
There was no rest for us today. In the early evening we went by ferry to Fort Cochin where we had been informed there was to be a New Year Carnival. At first that information looked to be suspect. There were many people. But no events.
Suddenly the procession started, led by a stately elephant followed by a succession of floats, dancing groups, masked warriors and, strangest of all in this country, men in drag. It was all extremely camp.
I was intrigued, not only by the guys in drag with their silk saris and ostentatious earrings, but also by a political gay group marching behind a banner and engaged in lively debate with various members of the crowd. This was India and the small town of Cochi, yet many of the participants would not have been out of place at London's Gay Pride march. It was seriously weird.
Dinner was excellent at the Seaview Hotel and, unlike my experiences on the Northern Line, the ferry back left one minute after we arrived and not one minute before we arrived.
January 1st had been a hugely varied and hugely enjoyable start to the new year.
Thursday 2nd
Another early start to catch the 6.30 express from Ernakulum Junction to Trivandrum. We are traveling in air-conditioned first class which has the advantage of comfort but a curious disadvantage in that there is glass in the windows. The glass, of course, was dirty, thus preventing us from seeing much of the passing scenery, a facility which was available to second class travelers by virtue of the fact that their coaches were windowless.
The six hours of this journey with opaque windows gives me time for reflection. By now, dear reader, you will have gathered that I find myself in India at the start of this year. It is my first visit. We arrived on 15th December and have been touring the southern states of Tamil Nadu and Kerala, starting with a week at Kovalam Beach followed by a tour to Chennai (formerly Madras), Mahaballipuram, Pondicherry, Thanjivur, Madurai and Tiruchirapalli before the train journey which took us to Ernakulum early on New Year's Eve. And now we are returning to Kovalam Beach for three more days. News reports tell of a white Christmas in London and of freezing temperatures throughout Europe. I must resist the temptation to be smug.
It has been an endlessly fascinating journey. We've seen magnificent temples, swum on deserted palm-fringed beaches and experiences the noise and vitality of Indian street life. Everywhere we are asked the standard questions 'Where are you coming from?' 'What is your name?' 'What do you think of India?' Plus of course the constant demand from the kids for 'schoolpen, schoolpen'.
This is not a travelogue. Much of it took place last year and therefore outside the scope of this book. Others can write far more eloquently than I on the minutiae of life in India. But as I sit on this train I am filled with so many of the highlights of the past two weeks; the wonderful beaches and relaxed atmosphere in Kovalam Beach; the carol singing by the camp fire at St. Andrew's Church in Chennai; the amazing rock carvings in Mahaballipuram and indeed the delicious breakfast for 40 pence in that town; the hugely impressive temples of Tamil Nadu; the unexpected carnival in Cochi. Above all, though, I will remember some of the people we have met on the journey - Benny and the Jets at Kovalam Beach, the Kenyan girl whose name escapes me who was so hospitable at St. Andrew's Church, Chennai, Ali, Sini and co. at Kovalam, Tamil Nadu despite their repeated pleas for money, Arugunam our driver who somehow drove safely despite the maniacal bus drivers bearing down on us every minute or so from the wrong side of the road, and the various village children who wished us a Happy New Year and wanted their photos taken. So many sights. So many sounds. So many experiences. And more to come.
Meanwhile this train is making progress southwards. Our compartment is full of foreign tourists and rich Indian families eating tomato ketchup sandwiches. We have just had a surprisingly good omelette sandwich, a line that British Rail could do well to introduce. No doubt the scenery beyond the opaque glass is stunning.
The journey was shorter than expected and by 11 a.m. we had arrived at Trivandrum. A short taxi ride, after the usual haggling over the fare, took us back to Kovalam Beach and the Seaview Palace Hotel from whence we departed 10 days ago.
The name of the hotel is rather grander than reality delivers. In truth it is simply a collection of bedrooms around a small courtyard. There is no central lounge, no restaurant, no proper reception area. But it is clean, it is 50 yards from the beach and I like it.
Now we have just over 3 days at Kovalam Beach before departing for London. The heat and dust of the past week have produced a rash on my back which I hope will disappear under the sun and salt water. But maybe the spots are too unsightly to expose them to public gaze. I need to find a remote spot. On the beach that is - the spots on me are far from remote..
I risked public ridicule by venturing onto the beach, albeit at the far corner, for a late afternoon session of sunbathing and the occasional foray into the sea.
An excellent evening meal at Lonely Planet reduced me to an exhausted state and I went straight to bed at 10 p.m.
Friday 3rd
The temperature yesterday morning in Paris was -13C. There is deep snow in Kent and London remained below zero all day. Such are the snippets of information gleaned from the Indian Express. There is little other news from Britain, although the England cricket tour of Zimbabwe is extensively reported, probable because India are having such a torrid time in South Africa.
The rest of the world is, however, far from my thoughts as I sit having breakfast in the sunshine overlooking the deep blue waters of the Indian Ocean.
There is always the hope, so far unfounded, at each breakfast that the poached eggs might be edible. My theory is that they cook the eggs the previous week and that any which are not eaten are sold for tyre manufacture. Well here comes today's offering. It looks promising. I plunge the knife into the yolk, but it bounces off. Oh, well, maybe tomorrow.
We are planning a lazy day today. We will try walking along the beach away from the tourists and, crucially, away from the hawkers of pineapples, mangos, lungis, cigarettes and Kerala grass. I brought Roy Jenkins biography of Gladstone with me to India. So far it has remained unopened. Maybe today that will change. Or maybe not.
The beach outside our hotel is small, has black sand and is very busy. Tourists generally do not like to stray far from their hotel. We walked a couple of kilometers northward along the beach. a very pleasant walk in bare feet along the shore, and had a huge sandy beach to ourselves. Crystal blue water, fringed by palm trees - close to paradise.
I overdid the sunbathing somewhat. Yesterday I spent 2-3 hours in the sun with no ill effects, so I thought I could do the same today. I rather forgot that the midday sun is rather stronger and more penetrating than the sun of the late afternoon. The result is a red and rather painful back, but at least the spots are less visible because the whole of my back is the same colour.
Dinner at the Palmshore was excellent. As usual I was exhausted by 10 p.m. but did not sleep very well. No mosquito bites though.
Saturday 4th
Having virtually no news from Britain is slightly disconcerting. Maybe there is another parliamentary scandal or another Royal story. Are Caledonian Thistle still winning? Who has died?
I'm feeling much better this morning. I even managed a swim before breakfast. The water is calmer and crystal clear early in the day.
This is our last full day in India. I sit waiting for breakfast, but not for the rubber poached eggs; I'm about to try the omelette instead. I watch a few people swimming, a few people jogging. The local fishermen are pulling in their lines, all collectively heaving on the coconut fibre rope to which the net is attached, just as they have done for centuries. The gypsy women are setting out their stalls on the beach, the hawkers of beach mats, cigarettes, leaf paintings etc. are already wandering up and down. The sun is shining along the length of the beach.
To my left, the lighthouse which gives this beach its name stand guard defiantly on the rocks. To my right, past all the beach cafes are the rocks which mark the border with the next bay and all the bays beyond. In between, the sand gently slopes towards the lapping waves.
And of course there are the tourists in all shapes and sizes; portly Germans look faintly ridiculous in skimpy trunks overhung by their wobbling stomachs; tall bronzed Scandinavians, hair bleached white, strut self-confidently along the beach; English couples, lobster red, lie in the sun unable to believe that a dark cloud is not about to obscure their tanning source; the hippies in their ethnic lungis are still spaced out from an excess of Kerala grass last night. Yes all forms of life are here, in a vast panorama before me.
It is a chaotic, haphazard place. There is rubbish everywhere, service is slow, the hawkers are a nuisance. But I can forgive all this. This place weaves its own magic. it is so relaxing, so laid back. A hot place to chill out, if that isn't a non-sequitur. And chilling out is today's plan.
Which sort of worked, except that the lack of wind made it too hot to sit for any length of time in the sun. Any anyway my skin is still rather on the red side. So much of today was spent in the shade learning about the life of Gladstone. So far the book has not really grabbed my sole interest. The nuances of the nineteenth century religious questions are lost on me, and Roy Jenkins language is sometimes as convoluted as the speeches of his subject. But I have read five chapters.
Our final meal this evening, local fish, at the Sea Rock was excellent, but I wasn't well enough to do it full justice. There was a party at Maxims, but as usual I was too tired to attend. There is probably an exciting and different sub-life going on here late at night. I simply haven't seen it. I haven't taken any of the freely-available Kerala grass or seen much of the hippy lifestyle of Kovalam. To my detriment I think.
Sunday 5th
Despite some weird and complicated dreams, I slept really well last night and I feel good this morning. In a way I am ready to go home, in a way I'd like to stay longer. I'm certainly not looking forward to the journey, nor to arriving at a freezing Gatwick late tonight.
Reflections on this visit to India may change after arrival in Britain, but it has undeniably been fascinating and I will be drawn back to India.
There has been less hassle than I expected. I coped well with the beggars, to my shame perhaps. I disliked the constant expectation of backsheesh. Some people who seemed genuinely to want to help and to be friends, spoiled everything by wanting money. Nonetheless there was genuine interest in us and curiosity in our lifestyle. 'Where are you coming from?' was a constant question.
India is such a strange mixture of amazing architecture, history and religion existing beside the chaotic noise and activity of daily life. Here in Kovalam it is relatively quiet and laid-back. A few miles away in Trivandrum it is noisy, dusty and full of people.
The temples were awesome and breathtaking and still fulfill a need for the people in today's world. Religion and the puja are as much a part of daily life as is washing in the rivers or urinating in the street. I am glad I've had the opportunity to experience this strangely wonderful land and its fascinating people. I know that I will be drawn back. The magic has worked.
© agw 1998
