"You should be in Trivandrum tomorrow" announced my boss as I walked into the office. My first thought was to rectify the blunder he committed in referring to Thiruvanathapuram as Trivandrum but I let it go. After all for a good ten years of my life I struggled pronouncing the Malayalam version of the name. It always came out as Thiruvanthanapuram much to the amusement of the listeners. So I preferred calling it Trivandrum. Soon I realized there was another bigger issue to be addressed. I was planning to leave to Bangalore the next day and this trip would mess things up.
"But I am going to Bangalore" I said tentatively.
"Oh shit! I forgot" said boss. "But it is OK, you can go to Bangalore from Trivandrum".
"But I booked my tickets to Bangalore through Tatkal" I protested weakly. After many attempts in the past years, I had, for the first time, succeeded in booking a tatkat railway ticket through the irctc site and I did not want the success to go wasted. "The ticket is already booked" continued my protesting voice.
Boss did not look up as he gave back a curt "Cancel it". I did not have the guts to say another word and a few hours later I found myself in the seat 9F of an Indigo airlines flight to Trivandrum. As is usually the case in a flight, I buried my head in a book. When I heard the end of the boarding process announcement, I looked up to see a towering figure with a familiar face walk down the aisle. The lower part of his face was buried under a beard and the middle part under a pair of goggles. He seated himself at the other end from me - seat 9A. I gave a furtive look at him and came to a decision about his identity - the Malayalam star Jayaram. A few more furtive looks brought in some doubts. No one was bothering him - No trying to talk to him; No taking selfies with him; nothing. But the person in question kept his sight away from all by looking out of the window. I went back to the book and did not look up till the announcement preparing us for landing came on. I looked around and found a number of heads were now turned towards the celebrity. "Ah a confirmation at last!" thought I. When the plane landed I got up to get down but the star continued to sit. For a brief moment, we looked at each other and by the time I could make up my mind to smile or not he looked away.
As soon as I got out of the airplane, I checked my mobile to find a message from a good old Thiruvanthurain friend. It read "Hey man a quick q. Have you been to Hong Kong?". Though I had only briefly traveled through Hong Kong to Shenzhen, I gave a technically correct "Once" and put in a querying "What's up?". A short while later came the response "Trivandrum is just like Hong Kong. That experience will help". I rolled my eyes and responded an agreement but added a protesting "but they don't speak Chinese". I had been to Trivandrum a few decades ago but remembered little. The ups and downs of the rain washed roads and the cinemascopic gopuram of the Padmanabhaswamy Ksethram were my only memories from the trip.
Thiruvananthapuram looked different from earlier memories and from the other places I visit in Kerala, which are usually the smaller towns and villages of Kerala. A couple of times I had been to Kochi, which seemed more inspired by Bangalore than any other place. But Thiruvananthapuram seemed a great combination of a Kerala town and Delhi. Broad tree lined roads with neatly laid out buildings. My colleague from Thiruvananthapuram kept warning me that I was seeing the best places in the city and I should not conclude every place looked like this. But we were on the road for quite a bit that day and I did not see any place that looked different.
I stayed at the Hotel Mascot, which is managed by KTDC. It is one of the oldest hotels in the city and had been in existence from the time of the British. I was fortunate enough to stay in one of the older rooms which was probably occupied by some British WW I soldier with a bandage round his head. It was a large TV remote unfriendly room that did not allow me to control the television placed at the other of the room from my bed. Surprisingly not many people knew of this place when I mentioned it . This in spite of the area outside the hotel being named on the Hotel. Later I realized everyone referred to the hotel as Muscat hotel. The citizen of the land had, very rightly, dedicated this age old hotel to the Middle East, which has converted (and continues to convert) many dreams into reality.
The next morning, I walked in for breakfast at around 9AM. The restaurant, like the hotel itself, was large and had about 30 tables. Of these only two were occupied. I chose a table hidden between two pillars and started forking in the good food. One of the table was occupied by an elderly lady and two others. The lady's spoke in a very audible tone. She was talking in Malayalam laden with what I thought was a Tamil accent. Soon, I realized she was talking about Telegu movies and Balakrishna. I realized that it was Telugu that had caught hold of her Malayalam. I went back to the buffet to pick some more food. When I got back to the table I saw a lady sitting one of the seats. A man was standing respectfully besides her. I hesitated a moment before informing the lady that I occupied this table and as proof pointed at the cup of tea placed opposite to her. The man very generously mentioned "its okay you can sit there, no problem". I looked around at the near empty restaurant before sitting down. A little later, the old lady got up to leave. She was immediately surrounded by a group of waiters clicking pictures on mobiles and requesting for autograph. I looked at her and realized the person looked familiar. The man, standing politely besides my table helped me out by saying "that is an old famous actress, Saradha. Urvashi Saradha". Ah yes! Urvashi Saradha from Thulabharam - kattadichu kodum kattadichu. Should I not do something? Get a picture or sign or something. Too late; she was out of the restaurant.
At the end of the day, I took a taxi to the airport. As the taxi pulled into the airport I saw the departure gate enveloped by a number of people. There were TV vans and it looked like another celebrity was crossing my path. The crowd and the TV cameras made me assume it to be some kind of political leader. There were people everywhere and many of their mobile cameras were recording the proceedings. I walked up to a police man and asked him how to get in. He said there was a small way on the side. When I got to the place, I saw that was blocked too. As I walked back I asked a person about the celebrity's identity. He said very simply "that's Abdul Nazer". I was not into Kerala politics and so had no idea who this Abdul Nazer was. So I asked him "Who's Abdul Nazer?" He looked at me with sternness flowing out of his. He did say a word. I had made a great error. I mumbled something as I walked away quickly. I tried to get in through the arrival gate but the security personnel shoo-ed me away. As I walked back to the departure gate the crowd went ecstatic with chants of "Allah hu Akbar" and "Abdul Nazer Zindabad". I moved away from the crowd and waited. A few minutes later, Abdul Nazer went in and the crowd went away. As I walked into the airport, I called a Malayalee friend and asked him "who's Abdul Nazar". He responded "Oh Madani".
As soon as I got out of the airplane, I checked my mobile to find a message from a good old Thiruvanthurain friend. It read "Hey man a quick q. Have you been to Hong Kong?". Though I had only briefly traveled through Hong Kong to Shenzhen, I gave a technically correct "Once" and put in a querying "What's up?". A short while later came the response "Trivandrum is just like Hong Kong. That experience will help". I rolled my eyes and responded an agreement but added a protesting "but they don't speak Chinese". I had been to Trivandrum a few decades ago but remembered little. The ups and downs of the rain washed roads and the cinemascopic gopuram of the Padmanabhaswamy Ksethram were my only memories from the trip.
Thiruvananthapuram looked different from earlier memories and from the other places I visit in Kerala, which are usually the smaller towns and villages of Kerala. A couple of times I had been to Kochi, which seemed more inspired by Bangalore than any other place. But Thiruvananthapuram seemed a great combination of a Kerala town and Delhi. Broad tree lined roads with neatly laid out buildings. My colleague from Thiruvananthapuram kept warning me that I was seeing the best places in the city and I should not conclude every place looked like this. But we were on the road for quite a bit that day and I did not see any place that looked different.
I stayed at the Hotel Mascot, which is managed by KTDC. It is one of the oldest hotels in the city and had been in existence from the time of the British. I was fortunate enough to stay in one of the older rooms which was probably occupied by some British WW I soldier with a bandage round his head. It was a large TV remote unfriendly room that did not allow me to control the television placed at the other of the room from my bed. Surprisingly not many people knew of this place when I mentioned it . This in spite of the area outside the hotel being named on the Hotel. Later I realized everyone referred to the hotel as Muscat hotel. The citizen of the land had, very rightly, dedicated this age old hotel to the Middle East, which has converted (and continues to convert) many dreams into reality.
The next morning, I walked in for breakfast at around 9AM. The restaurant, like the hotel itself, was large and had about 30 tables. Of these only two were occupied. I chose a table hidden between two pillars and started forking in the good food. One of the table was occupied by an elderly lady and two others. The lady's spoke in a very audible tone. She was talking in Malayalam laden with what I thought was a Tamil accent. Soon, I realized she was talking about Telegu movies and Balakrishna. I realized that it was Telugu that had caught hold of her Malayalam. I went back to the buffet to pick some more food. When I got back to the table I saw a lady sitting one of the seats. A man was standing respectfully besides her. I hesitated a moment before informing the lady that I occupied this table and as proof pointed at the cup of tea placed opposite to her. The man very generously mentioned "its okay you can sit there, no problem". I looked around at the near empty restaurant before sitting down. A little later, the old lady got up to leave. She was immediately surrounded by a group of waiters clicking pictures on mobiles and requesting for autograph. I looked at her and realized the person looked familiar. The man, standing politely besides my table helped me out by saying "that is an old famous actress, Saradha. Urvashi Saradha". Ah yes! Urvashi Saradha from Thulabharam - kattadichu kodum kattadichu. Should I not do something? Get a picture or sign or something. Too late; she was out of the restaurant.
At the end of the day, I took a taxi to the airport. As the taxi pulled into the airport I saw the departure gate enveloped by a number of people. There were TV vans and it looked like another celebrity was crossing my path. The crowd and the TV cameras made me assume it to be some kind of political leader. There were people everywhere and many of their mobile cameras were recording the proceedings. I walked up to a police man and asked him how to get in. He said there was a small way on the side. When I got to the place, I saw that was blocked too. As I walked back I asked a person about the celebrity's identity. He said very simply "that's Abdul Nazer". I was not into Kerala politics and so had no idea who this Abdul Nazer was. So I asked him "Who's Abdul Nazer?" He looked at me with sternness flowing out of his. He did say a word. I had made a great error. I mumbled something as I walked away quickly. I tried to get in through the arrival gate but the security personnel shoo-ed me away. As I walked back to the departure gate the crowd went ecstatic with chants of "Allah hu Akbar" and "Abdul Nazer Zindabad". I moved away from the crowd and waited. A few minutes later, Abdul Nazer went in and the crowd went away. As I walked into the airport, I called a Malayalee friend and asked him "who's Abdul Nazar". He responded "Oh Madani".
