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••• The International Writers Magazine - India

Encountering Aanakambam in God’s Own Country • Michael Chacko Daniels Travels in Kerala, India

Although elephants are part of Kerala’s cultural ethos and—like my siblings—I’ve been known to favor all representations of elephants in all media, I wouldn’t say I went so far as to succumb
to aanakambam—elephant obsession.

Not at all . . . When I looked at elephants, I never checked to find out whether the twin domes on the head were big, raised, and evenly separated; the ears wide; the eyes the color of honey; the tusks long and curved upwards. Not at all. . .

So, when my wife Teresa and I went searching for the Kerala ethos in 1991, elephants weren’t on my must-see list. Kerala on 2/21/1991, during its dry season, was no different from my two boyhood trips to it from Bombay in the 1950s—it was not only green, it was clean.

The Car Ride — Cochin to Alleppey

Our car driver, through Cochin and then onward to Alleppey, was Soni. A very polite and helpful man. He had a calm driving style that gave my eyes time to open up to Kerala, even when we rode down the main road as it meandered.
         The state’s beauty was everywhere to be seen: The red earth in some places, the white sands in others, the branches of plantains and bananas in every tea stall and mini-food store, the rippled mounds of earth around stands of coconut trees, the little roadside crosses and religiously significant commemorative structures—some complete with ritually adorned Hindu gurus or saints and others of religious significance to Syro-Malabar Catholics or to Syrian Orthodox Christians, road courtesy—two beeps of the horn that gave the O. K. to overtake and the slight hand signal that did the same.
. . . And the brightly colored lorries, some with Christian names like St. Michael, Mary, Mata, and St George.
. . . The ads painted on concrete compound walls, the dried palm-frond fences and huts, the bright yellow and red pukka houses with their assortment of fruit trees—mango, papaya, jackfruit, banana, & coconut.
Kerala! Land of coconut trees, where every part of the coconut is used.

The Boat Ride — Alleppey to Kottayam

What stood out as we rode on the boat’s top deck—where Teresa got sunburned—and later, on the entry/exit deck: The flowers in the water that covered our approach . . . the boat clearing a path, floating the flowers aside; flowers of a lavender color, bulbs buoyant enough to hold the weight of a river bird; people taking a dip or washing utensils . . . dipping coconut fibers into ash collected from cooking fires; women washing clothes on stones smoothened through years of daily pounding; large junctions and turning points fringed with coconut trees; paddy fields with occasional groups of white-clothed persons working; the flock of ducklings following a man . . . 
. . . pipes unloading water pumped out of rice fields; the courtesy shown to oncoming boats, to parked boats, to people taking a dip; the sampling of shells from the divers—the boatman explaining, “The shells help make cement, the meat in the middle is eaten”; framed photographs over doorways as we neared Kottayam; the stands of straw collected after the paddy is removed; straw balanced on riverboats and road lorries . . . loaders delicately sprinkling straw and evenly balancing out the vehicles by gracefully walking over their loads . . .
. . . two kids walking over a lorry-load of straw and two kids running along its sides offering mangos and I wondering why they weren’t in school on this Thursday in February in this most literate state in all of India; the stop for coconuts—rupees five each . . . the proffered drinking straws . . . the boatman declining a coconut from us; the loaded boats of coconuts; the delivery boat with black containers—full of kerosene or gas for cooking; occasional waves from children; adults, curious but non-intrusive; two males catching our attention by pointing to the large cross one of them wore; the clean properties—postage-stamp-sized, but clean; the cafe on the lake where I had tea and paratha and Teresa tea and Kerala rice, leaving the cashew vegetable untouched because it was cold when delivered . . .

The Car Ride Back in God’s Country

On the car ride back in God’s Country, appearing as if from nowhere, an elephant in leg chains—controlled by a mahout carrying a brass goad and a short pole, tools of torture and dominance—walks towards us in an enforced calm grace begotten by the agony of a myriad pokes and prods, while her nettipattam—

Gleams in the sun’s rays
Forever stamping her pain
In my memory

© Michael Chako Daniels - 4.29.25
Michael lives and writes in San Francisco. He grew up in Bombay. His parents were from God’s Own Country—Kerala. His latest published novel: OF BLACK, WHITE, AND MANY COLORS.

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