Hartals and hideaways

It was October 1956. I had moved from the princely town of Patiala to the country8217;s most well-planned city, Chandigarh. Exactly 46 year...

It was October 1956. I had moved from the princely town of Patiala to the country8217;s most well-planned city, Chandigarh. Exactly 46 years later, on October 31, 2002, I was on board the Boeing to report for my new assignment in the state of Kerala.

From the Himalayan heights in the aircraft, the land looked all green. With occasional patches of water. On landing, I heard that there was a hartal. Soon I saw the roadblocks. Also the red flags. The short drive through some narrow lanes showed a mosaic of green and red. Now I have spent a few months here. 8216;8216;Heavenly hideaways8217;8217; and hartals are parts of the place.

Kerala is the land of quiet backwaters. Of cardamom, cashew, coconut and coir. Of rice and rubber. Of seafood and spices. The rivers run through it. The sea washes its shore. Nature appears to have carved every nook and corner of this land with care. As if, with its own hand.

Then, there are the hills. Like Munnar. It has tea estates. All nicely cut and manicured. Like a silken smooth carpet spread over miles of land. The Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary is a haven for the big and small. The serene stream of water runs through the thick forests. The tree trunks that still stand in the middle of the river bear testimony to the fact that water can create and also destroy. Then there are the birds with their nests in the old worn out trees that look like logs of wood stuck in the soil. There is a wealth of wildlife. The hordes of deer and elephants.

And then the Arabian Sea with its beautiful beaches, Kovalam and Marari. The soft sand. The sunset. Everywhere, the sight is one of eerie splendour.

Why has nature been so kind to Kerala? Why has it packed so much, in such variety, in just 36,683 sq km of land? The land was blessed by St Thomas. It is the land where, according to legend, Mahabali ruled. There was order without law in this land.

Literally, Mahabali means the supreme sacrifice. The king had actually sacrificed. He had given away Bhur, the matter, Bhuvah, the mind, and Suvah, the soul. The three combine to make the man. He had sacrificed himself. Happy with this sacrifice, the gods had granted him the wish to visit his people every year. According to common belief, the king visits his people on the day of Onam every year. They celebrate his visit as a festival.

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The centuries have not taken away the sanctity of the sacrifice. People of all faiths, Christians, Hindus and Muslims, join and rejoice. The event exhibits complete communal harmony. More than everything else, it proves that the good deeds are the seeds. Generations have been thriving on them. Till today. Hopefully, they will continue to do so in the times to come.