Once a kolam Extraordinary experiences make one a raconteur. Gopi sat in our midst, narrating tales animatedly but unhurriedly from his outings as a kolam, theyyam performer. Elaborate, gilt-laden headgear, sharp gleaming nails, metallic bulbous eyes, jangling anklets, all came out one by one from an ancient box unopened for many years. Most of it was a legacy handed down from his father. His own son, a schoolteacher, evidently proud of what his dad was, showed us time-stained photographs of a focused looking youngster with heavily kohled eyes, sporting a
It is not just our sins Pappanji has to grapple with – and eventually burn for, of course – but also how his looks are taken. If he was perceived to be too cheerful in 2017, the year when Cyclone Ockhi ravaged Kerala, this year it was alleged that he bore a close semblance to Prime Minister Modi. The organisers had a tough time mollifying belligerent bampots who decried it as a malicious attempt to malign in a region that was already seething with public resentment against the newly introduced
Nothing comes in the way of your interaction with the locals other than laziness and prejudice; even an alien tongue doesn’t. I say this with conviction as I wrote a road tripping book on Chhattisgarh when there was no GPS (definitely not in Chhattisgarh) and my Hindi was pidgin at best (it still is). My friends were surprised to see that I actually returned after 40 days on the road in this heavily forested central Indian state besieged with its own set of unique problems. I made up for all
