October 19, 2015
We said our good byes to Kochi and her now tit-less She Demon and headed off to our next destination – Alleppey and the Kerala back waters. We arrived to the chaos of Alleppey at dusk. Then for the next 30 minutes, we endured the tuk tuk ride from hell. Imagine riding in the back of a vehicle in the black of night driven by a man who wears glasses (but refuses to do so) who leans on his brain shattering horn the entire drive to warn others he is coming. Eventually we end up in the pitch black at the side of a river standing in ankle deep mud. There are mosquitos everywhere. Everyone is convinced they now have malaria. After another 15 – 20 minute we see a faint light in the distance moving towards us. It is a narrow dug out canoe that is going to ferry us across to an island that we can't make out in the dying light. And by narrow, I mean this canoe could not have been more than a foot and a half at its widest point. And we have to get in it with luggage - all Ken's prized electronic possessions. Oh – and you have to balance your luggage on your lap or back because it can’t fit it in the bottom of the canoe and even if it could there is a foot of water in the bottom. For some reason all that is going through my mind in that moment is “If this canoe tips there better not be any god damn leeches. If there are leeches I am SO DONE with India.”
It was all worth it in the end once we arrived at our destination – Green Palm Homes. Situated in a small village on the island is a series of local home stays devoted to sustainable living. Our hosts were the very Christian, Matthew and his brother Thomas. Everywhere are Jesus paintings and figurines. This place is sublime and surreal. Arriving by canoe it made me think of a scene in Apocalypse Now where Martin Sheen’s character, after a harrowing river journey, suddenly finds himself at a French rubber plantation in the middle of nowhere. There in the river jungle he finds a place of abject civility and grace. And that is how I would describe Green Palms. Matthew and Thomas are about as graceful and elegant as two gentlemen can be. Their English is impeccable. There manners equally so. They were kind, thoughtful and deeply introspective. Their knowledge of the land, of permaculture, and of the world was endless. And yet, neither of them had been any farther than Alleppey in their lives. They did not have Internet or TV. Everything they knew of the world was from reading books and engaging in meaningful dialogue with guests who came to stay. Imagine that! Learning from reading and talking to people. How refreshing it was to see it still happens. How sad it is to know it is fast becoming a dying form of living.
Next stop: THE TIPPING POINT!
We have now reached the half waypoint in the journey and, more importantly, the tip of the Indian continent – Kanyakumari. It is here you see the final dramatic flourish of the Western Ghats and glistening green rice paddies merge into the “V” that is the southern tip of India. Here, on the edge of the world you witness the sun set and the moon rise over three simultaneous seas. “Land’s End” draws thousands of pilgrims every day who dip their toes in the place where the Goddess Devi single handedly conquered the demons and secured freedom for the world.
Kanyakumari is also where “tourist India” gives way to India proper. The town itself is poor and exists only for the hotels and hostels that accommodate the local pilgrims. The streets are lined with beggars and those afflicted with leprosy. It is here where you begin to get a sense of what India truly is – a multifarious country that is deeply complex and at times, disturbing. Nothing really prepares you for that moment when a woman whose fingers are dropping off grabs you with what she has left of a hand pleading for money. I walk the leper gauntlet avoiding eye contact and feeling altogether helpless and ashamed. Nothing I can give or do will possibly change anything and yet I do it anyway because it relieves the guilt. Yes every little bit helps but in India, there will never be enough “little bits” to help everyone.
We arrive at the ferry to catch a mini Drake Passage ride to the Vivekanada Memorial. Housed in shrine on a rocky outcrop is a stone said to be the footprint of Buddha. It is also where in December 1892; Swami Vivekanada came to meditate for two days before heading off to Chicago never to return. (I have no idea who this Swami is or why just because he came to this rock for 2 days it needed a shrine surrounded by pounding waves and boat crushing rocks.) After that, it is a stop at the Gandhi Memorial. Set inside is a plinth said to have housed some of Gandhi’s ashes (we didn’t see any) and where, on Gandhi’s birthday, the rays of the sun beam down into the stone in perfect celestial harmony.
I find myself asking what would Gandhi do as I walk the road of tears back to my hotel. The only answer I can come to is more than me. He, after all, would stay and make a difference. I, however, am only here momentarily. As are we all.
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