Ten years after the Boxing Day tsunami

There have been many events in memory of the tsunami of 2010 which spent the last of its force on the coast of India. We are reminded of its power whenever we visit the Western coast, where although we can't envisage the shape of the coast before the wave ripped its way through, we can see the lack of structure on the beaches and the uniform size of the small palm trees which have been planted to replace those which were washed away.

The ugly barrier of concrete and stone which stretches down the highway to the South seems a flimsy protection against such a destructive force, but many warning systems have been put into place and everyone along the coast now understands what to do if the sea behaves strangely. A great deal of post-tsunami work has been done and zoning laws, frequently ignored, restrict new building close to the beach. The Hindustan News describes some of it.

"Thatched huts have given way to housing clusters named Tsunami Colony or Tsunami Village, fishing markets have been built further inland and sea walls have turned the once-bustling beaches dreary and barren," 

Most of the 170 people who lost their lives on this coast were fishermen and while the slow process of rebuilding has gone on, they have resumed their lives in the flimsy beachside huts which made them so vulnerable in the first place. Much of the money allocated to the sea wall and rebuilding the infrastructure has vanished elsewhere, according to the local panchayats.

http://www.thehansindia.com/posts/index/2014-12-27/Sea-walls-in-Kerala-still-a-dream-post-tsunami-123114

A less obvious problem has been the amount of land which was washed away. The tsunami in the 14th Century, which resulted in the disappearance of Muziris and the opening up of the inlet to present day Cochin, shows what the power of the sea is capable of. Less dramatic geological changes came about after the 2004 tsunami, but its effect on the farmers whose land vanished has been immense, and they too are waiting for compensation.

The effects on the 8,000 people who were displaced and housed in relief camps in Alleppey alone are long-lasting, and complete recovery will be a long time coming for people and businesses afftected by this huge disaster.

The Muziris Biennale is happening!

In spite of my cynicism and doomy outlook, I am delighted that the Kochi Muziris Biennale is happening, and even more delighted because I shall have a chance to visit in February. I am especially interested in the collection of old maps, but the chance to look inside the Aspinwall's warehouse and see the artworks which are the result of so much energy against all the odds.
As expected, things have not gone 100% to plan. The money promised by the government has not arrived, possibly because of the change of party after the last election. Many of the artists are seriously out of pocket and have underwritten the show.

Given the title of "Whorled Expectations" the theme is based on a period of great expansion in trade and travel, the 14th to 19th centuries, when Kerala was undergoing a huge period of development in mathematics and philosophy. The curatorial note at
http://kochimuzirisbiennale.org/curatorial-note/

is a bit high-flown for me, but I love the usual obscure art speak. Is it art speak, or the Indian English obscurity which makes it hard for me to read anything originating in the higher reaches of Indian thought?

This time, the biennale has attracted some international names known even to me. Anish Kapoor is one, but there are others which ring bells. TAlking of bells, I am looking forward to seeing Gita Scaria's large silver bell onthe front at Kochi looks conceptually amazingly like the exhibit at Folkestone's last Triennale in 2011 by A. K. Dolven,
http://www.folkestonetriennial.org.uk/artist/a-k-dolven/

His bell still stands on the front at Folkestone like a very mournful piece of jetsam. The bell in Fort Kochi is larger, silver and altogether more jolly.

See some of the artists and their work here.
http://www.livemint.com/Leisure/ZHoR9TriwRPuhE9Mt4L7YN/KochiMuziris-Biennale-Seven-artists-you-must-see-at-Kochi.html

The last biennale was a success, attracting an estimated 400,000 people to the city. Optimism is high that this year's will do the same.

http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/a6cb253c-797c-11e4-9567-00144feabdc0.html

Object No. 6: Pallippuram Fort

Tucked away in a sandy enclosure about twenty miles North of Ernakulam is a relic of the first European incursion into Kerala.
I have chosen it as one of my objects because to me it represents how much of the history of the country is hidden from view.

Vasco Da Gama arrived on the beach near Calicut in 1498. The arrival of the Portuguese is celebrated now with a memorial, a plain pillar of black stone with a plaque in English tucked away behind a crumbling concrete paling on a littered and scruffy stretch of beach. The changes the invaders brought were enormous, the Vyanagar and Travancore kingdoms would never be the same again; religion, the balance of power and trading wealth shifting with their arrival.

The Portuguese built forts to protect their assets and the fort at Pallippuram is thought to be the oldest European building in India. Built by the Portuguese in 1503, it was surrendered to the Dutch in 1663 and bought by the Travancore Raja in 1789. The river frontage would have been ideal for preventing rival countries’ boats from landing anywhere nearby. The Travancore Government conserved the fort in 1909, presumably by coating the lot in mortar, but it is difficult to see where there may be any original materials showing through the coat. There is a well inside the keep, a tiny door which could well lead to a dungeon, and that is all. The thick walls, with their embrasures in each of the hexagonal sides could have withstood an attack, from the inlet at the north end of Vypeen Island.. The husk of the fort stands like a broken molar, quiet and neglected, preserved by uncelebrated.

Here is an important building in national terms, not only for the history of Kerala, but competing demands and lack of money leave it marooned on a hard-to-find site in a little known village. As, in the West, we know little of the history of South India, which does not have its majestic Moghul courts or important centres of the Raj, the history of Kerala is becoming forgotten by its descendants. Political imperatives take over initiatives to promote some aspects of the past, Nationalists not wanting to remember the colonial pasts, Hindu Nationalists being uncomfortable with the Arab cultures introduced by centuries of traders. Pallippuram still sits there and seems to wait for its day of recognition.

I left after our visit feeling that there it stood and we had seen it, and I suspected that we were in a small minority of recent Europeans to view the “oldest extant European monument in India.”

Object No 5: Edakkal Caves

The approach to the caves

The Paleolithic origin of India was not recognised until relatively recently, possibly because no-one had looked for it. Stone tools had been found in Tamil Nadu, but megalithic stones and the rock shelters such as Edekkal had been ignored by researchers. A gradual appreciation of the ancient history of the area has led to a re-examination of many sites, Edakkal itself being excavated in 2010, many finds pointing to its occupation seven thousand years ago. The ancient is often wrapped up in the sacred in India, and legend tells that the caves were made when Lava and Kusha, the sons of Sri
Rama, their tale told in the Ramayana, fired arrows in a battle, and Lord Rama killed Ravana’s sister Surpnakha in the narrow cleft in the rock to the south of the cave. This pinpoints Edakkal as an important place in the distant past, one which is not past but contiguous with the present to many Hindus.

The cave itself is more a rock shelter, a split in the cliff face, approached by a steep climb and a passage through other clefts in the rock. There is a view of many miles into the distance. I had seen
many pictures and videos of the engravings but the size and scale of the caves  breath taking. Deep, meandering grooves cover the left-hand wall, incised into the sandstone. Patterns and squiggles, random lines, wheels, suns and possible animals and figures stretch along one wall, out of the sun and presumably out of the rain. According to our guide when we visited the caves Neolithic people lived here and scratched on the walls to amuse themselves and for decoration. I wasn’t buying it. He  showed us a peacock, a man with hair which stood straight up on end, an elephant and a sun symbol but I found it as convincing as seeing faces in clouds. I asked him about the maze, circular and
very clear, and right in front of us, explaining that it closely resembled drawings found on monuments of a similar age, something commented on by Captain Fawcett when he had come across the caves over a century before.
 “A sun,” he explained, and I let him be, not wanting him to have to lose face by telling us that no-one had the faintest idea what the engravings were all about. In David Lewis Williams’s book, “The Mind in the Cave,” he explores the way in which modern archaeologists and philosophers go about interpreting the mind set of ancient people, arguing that we cannot know what drove them, or what the origins of the first art might have been. In an examination of consciousness and unconscious states he describes the many types of patterns which are experienced and are directly associated with the neurological construction of the brain. These include the jagged castellation seen by migraine sufferers. In laboratory experiments subjects asked to make marks go through stages of  consciousness, demonstrated by inscribing simple patters and more complex drawings, always culturally based.

The complex drawings are related to entering a region by way of a passage often described as a tunnel or vortex. This is an experience common to modern shamans who believe this to be the entrance to the spirit world. The images which come from the earlier states of altered consciousness
are found all over the world in the art of the early period, from the caves of France to the rock paintings of the Sahara, to Australia and the Americas. A common humanity links these symbols and here they all were on the walls at Edakkal, along with the maze, a universal focus, hidden behind a boulder.
The ancient remains of prehistoric India ae gradually revealing themselves and promise a richer history than has yet been dreamed of.

Object Number 4: the dhobi

The dhobi is an essential to any trip to India. If you do not want to carry around a festering bag of sweaty washing, if your hotel is not the kind of place where you can hang your underwear out of the window or across the balcony, the dhobi is the answer.
Every small bank where water can be accesses is home to a variety of washing operations which vary in scale and scope, but all result in washing being hung across makeshift lines or bushes. Some rivers display kilometres of fabric bleaching in the sun and most hotels, where the washing machine has not yet become standard and the electricity is flaky, have their favoured dhobi. It is a great pleasure to receive a package of clean laundry meticulously ironed and carefully stacked.
Not so pleasant is the package which has been bashed to death on a stone without regard for the delicacy of the fabrics and packed whilst damp, so that all the colours have run. The occasional mud splodge and stray leaf reveal the location of the particular washing hole.
That the dhobi has been under threat for a long time is spelt out in this article from 2003, written by Tanya Abraham, who is working to keep the history of Cochin alive.
http://www.thehindu.com/thehindu/mp/2003/07/07/stories/2003070700750100.htm
There is still a dhobi in the town and there are many pictures of it online.
I am sure that the modern dhobi does little for the health of the rivers as soap is often used. It probably comes under the heading of customs which will soon disappear as much needed sanitation and water supply come to India, but I can't help hoping shamefully that some of the picturesque will survive..

The laundry cart, Thekkady

The dhobi inside the wildlife reserve, Periyar

Update, 2015

The reason there are so many pictures of the dhobi khana in Cochin online is that it has reinvented itself as a tourist facility. Right on, Fort Cochi!

The Indian Visa Problem

We are planning what will probably be our last visit to India. We say that every time, but this year some nervous friends have persuaded us to take them to South India before they go off on their own to the North and we go on to Sri Lanka, a place I have never visited. When we have taken people to Kerala in the past we have loved showing them the places we have been to and giving them a taste of the experiences we have loved.
Everything is planned and mostly paid for, but then comes the detail, inoculations, airport car parks and The Visa.
Getting an Indian visa has always been a test of determination. When we fist went, James was doomed to queuing outside India House in the Aldwych at 5.30 in the morning to get a ticket to tell him if we would be able to have the visa that day. He would them spend hours sitting in various queues by the infamous "do not ask questions here" window. Once he did not manage to get a ticket and had to stay in a cheap hotel and try again the next day. He often did this for clients as well.
At long last the electronic application process arrived and for a couple of years it got easier, a form filled in online and then a trip to Victoria before the courier returned tha passports a few days later.
Then the complications began again. Last year he had to go to the far end of the Goswell road, but that was OK until they refused our photographs.
Indian visa photographs are not as other photographs for passports etc. in that they are square. The eyes have to be positioned exactly and there are other specifications which might make sense in a parallel universe. This time we think they did not like the paper the photos were printed on and James had a panic-stricken time getting a photographic shop to scan and reprint the pictures until they passed inspection.
Seeing that this year the office had moved to Uxbridge, James vowed that we would not go through the whole sorry busness again and that we would use a visa agency. This we are doing.
That brings the cost of our two visas up to over £250.
My conclusion is that a visit to India is not to be undertaken as lightly as we have tended to do. A six-month visa used to only allow re-entry at two month intervals, a problem if you had flights which went through India after a visit elsewhere. This was on the grounds of security after the Mumbai attacks. I think that this may be changed, but there is no chance of the new "visa on arrival" system which is being introduced for some nationalities being extended to the UK. At least not as long aswe make it so difficult for Indian nationals to travel here.

Object number 3, the houseboat.

Houseboats parked at Alleppey

Houseboat on Lake Vembanad

The houseboats which potter around the lakes and canals of the backwaters represent so much of what is good and bad about the tourist push in Kerala.
The kettuvallums, the traditional boats of all sizes, are living history. No-one knows how long they have been constructed using very ancient techniques, out of Anjuli wood and coir, both abundant around the area.
In the Malayalam language "kettu" means tying and “vallam” means country boat – the two together make the local name "kettuvallam”. Those tourists lucky enough to have a trip on a genuine kettuvallum will be treated to a close-up view of the complicated tying and weaving of the coir ropes which hold the whole thing together, and the intricately woven palm-thatched superstructure. The standard kettuvallam is about 20 metres long and 4 metres wide. They are still built using traditional construction methods and mainly from local materials, bamboo poles, coconut fibre and "Anjili" (Artocarpus hirsuta) wood. The hull is a series of wooden planks, long cut and carved and tied together using coir, with coconut fibres stuffed in between. There are no nails used in the hull, and it is easy to see how the planks are tied. This framework is then coated with a caustic black resin extracted from boiled cashew kernels. Modern boats have diesel engines and a rudder and are steered using a wheel at the front. Some maintain the use of bamboo poles to punt along.

A meal on the boat

The distinctive kettuvallams have been used to transport rice and spices through the canals and waterways of Kerala for many years. They could be as much as 100 feet long and carry up to 30 tons. Today the boats are only used to carry visitors around the backwaters, their stately pace being the ideal counterpoint to the bustle onshore. From being an outmoded and dying form of transport, the kettuvallam has taken on a new lease of life and the boatyards are busy building and maintaining today’s fleet. The superstructure is made from woven bamboo, and needs to be renewed every three or four years.Inside, the boats now have every modern convenience including air-conditioning, en-suite bathrooms and well-equipped kitchens.

New boats use modern construction techniques and are metal-hulled and riveted together. They are usually lumbering monsters, lacking the grace of the traditional boats. Some have eight cabins and a jacuzzi on the roof. I just don't get it!

The driver

The source of a lot of tourist dollars, the fleet of boats working out of Alleppey has grown and grown, and with little regulation the boats are adding to the already serious pollution of the lakes and waterways. Most of the beauty of the backwaters lies along its narrow canals, which thread their way through the rice fields, lined with small houses and providing the arteries through which the commerce of the area flows. The large boats with all mod. cons cannot tackle these waterways, so lumber their way round the lake, a constant procession of primitive arks. There is much to see on the lake, but those in the know insist on a small boat and a more difficult voyage into the depths of the backwaters.

Object Number 2: the Kerala lock

Brass lock in the Portuguese Museum

The Kerala lock embodies man of the things I find most attractive about the country. There is a tradition of fine craftsmanship and a respect and appreciation of it that stretches to the current day.
The massive teak doors of the houses were secured by these ornate brass or iron locks, and they can still be bought today and are often used in conjunction with a most unattractive padlock.

Along with the traditional design comes a "traditional" story. The lock embodies symbols of all the main religions of Kerala, and is therefore representative of the inclusive and tolerant way in which the people live. The trident of Shiva, the seven menorah of the Jewish faith, the crescent of the Muslims and the cross of the Christians (look hard), all make their appearance in this lock.

This would be a wonderful thing if all manchithrathazhu locks were the same. In fact, even the very old ones differ condiderably in their design and very often elements are missing.

However, I have chosen the lock as one of my objects as it does contain aspects of the religious diversity which makes Kerala for me such a fascinating and complicated place. I also love a good story.

For some wonderful, modern designs, go to http://www.keralahousedesigns.com/2009/08/manichithrathazhu-doors.html

History through objects

I have been enjoying Neil MacGregor's programmes about the history of Germany through a series of objects selected for a new exhibition. (http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b04dwckb)

It got me thinking about what I would choose as representative of the periods and cultures of Kerala. How do you avoid the magpie-like selection of shiny objects? Many of the lists which already exist choose items of cultural importance, like the Aranmula mirrors which are made of bell metal, and which take days of polishing, or items collected from traditional dance forms like Kathakali. Certainly, some of these things would be important and representative, but they did not necessarily mark important changes in, or description of, the way in which the people lived, which is really what history is about.

How many should there be? I could probably manage more than 10, but fifty might be beyond me. So, I have set myself the task and designate the Bellarmine jar in my last post as item number one, even though it is chronologically adrift.

The clue of the Bellarmine jar

In the humid chaos of Fort Kochi it is difficult to get a feeling of the long history of the city. There are clues in the architecture and the remains of the wharves and boatyards, and the inlet from the sea still carries its share of traditional fishing boats. Staying at the Fort House hotel I was brought up short by a pot sitting in a case which displayed an eclectic mix of items. These, apparently, were for sale on behalf of a widow who lived in the town.

My first reaction was that I was looking at a reproduction or forgery, but then I realised that I had never known the pot in question to be reproduced because it was a curiosity about which little was known. It was a Bellarmine jug, about 30cm tall and in near-perfect condition.

This was undoubtedly a survivor of the Dutch trade with India in the 17th Century. The Dutch dominated the Malabar Coast from 1661, when they took it from the Portuguese, until 1795 when the British made great inroads into the Indian trade routes. The pots, with their bearded faces and decorative stomachs were made for about two hundred years, originating in Germany, but sometimes exported via the Netherlands, where they were very popular. They gained their nickname after Cardinal Robert Bellarmine, scourge of protestants and inquisitor, and as they were used extensively for beer, their name was not a compliment to the austere Cardinal. Drinkers delighted in smashing the face off the pot.

Later they were sometimes used as "Witch Bottles", containing animal remains and arcane substances and buried somewhere about the house for protection, or as a curse. I think it is a shame that the jolly beer flagon has been appropriated by the sinister followers of witchcraft, as I have always been fond of the primitive feel of these stoneware pots and their honest salt glazes.

I was very tempted to buy the jug, which was on sale for a modest amount. I looked up the price on a couple of antiques sites and told the hotel what they had, but could not see myself hefting a heavy, antique pot onto the plane home. It is something I regret now, as I would have liked to have one of the rare clues of Fort Kochi's past.

There is a very interesting article on Bellarmines here:
http://cka.moon-demon.co.uk/KAR007/KAR007_Bellarmine.htm

More reader feedback- a map.

Another suggestion from my reader- have I got more than one? was that I included a map of my travels. I have done this by means of a page, rather than a post so that it is always there. I have also included a map of the backwaters, painfully drawn from a variety of sources before such a thing was available in India. How things have moved on!

Reader feedback

I wait for reader feedback with trepidation. Although most has been very nice and positive I had a surprise last week when a friend called me to take issue with something I had said. I had expected historical disagreement, the pointing out of terrible errors and abuse, but not the point he made. On page 90 I had said, after looking for the lost railway which transported tea from Munnar:

"Processed tea went up to Top Station on a monorail system, built in 1902 and replaced by a 24 inch gauge railway in 1908. We might have arrived on the west coast, but by the time that the crop had developed into a significant export, most of it went via Madras, on the east.
The tea went up to Mattapetty and on to Top Station before taking the rope-way back to Kottakudi and to Bottom Station, in Tamil Nadu. From there it was transported to various places in India for shipment and processing. It is almost impossible to trace the railway now as it followed the course of the road, but there are remnants of the ropeway system, most recorded by Jimmy Jose on  the informative website at
http://www.irfca.org/gallery/Heritage/Kundala .

Even I nearly turned into a railway buff trying to pick out the last vestiges of this long-lost line in a changed landscape, the difficulties and rough terrain lending the endeavour a glamour I didn’t feel when contemplating the Settle to Carlisle line, for instance."

I would like to record my heartfelt apologies to one of the most interesting, spectacular and historic railways in the UK.

There is still a sneaking feeling that the vertiginous cliffs and viaducts of the railways in the Western Ghats are more romantic and engaging than the lonely line across the moors, but as I now have to admit that I have never been on the Settle to Carlisle Railway, perhaps I am in error.

This web page shows pictures of the lost Kundala Valley Railway.
http://www.irfca.org/gallery/Heritage/Kundala/

The Nilgiri Hill Railway to Ooty shows what the line might have been like today.

Elephant ivory out of Muziris

Evidence for the existence of Muziris is sparse but well-documented in a few fragments remaining from the time. As well as the Periplus, the sailors' notebook which numbered Muziris amongst a number of ports, the Muziris Papyrus documents a cargo from India belonging to an Alexandrian merchant. It originates from the second century CE.
The document lists pepper and spices traded out of Muziris on board a Roman merchant ship called the Hermapollon. A valuation is given of three-quarters of the cargo which fits well with the list in the Periplus of the commodities which were exported from the city.
A portion of the cargo was made up of ivory, both low-quality trimmings taken to reduce the weight of the tusks of fighting elephants, and high quality, complete tusks, often taken from elephants which had died in captivity. At this time, Africa was not a significant source of ivory, but Pliny the elder states that by his time the male Indian elephant is often born with very small tusks, or none at all. This is true today, a fact often put down to the poaching of the ivory-bearing tuskers from the forests, but it seems that the elephants of the south were already protecting themselves by genetically reducing their ivory-bearing capabilities!

Mamalapuramn Tamil Nadu

It is likely that the ivory shipped in the Hermapollon was local, the Chera kings controlling the rich forests of the Western Ghats, where the elephant thrived. The indigenous forest-dwellers hunted elephants for their meat and their ivory, which made its way to Muziris.
The trade in ivory is a complex one, and by the time of the Periplus in the 9th Century Africa had overtaken India as a source of fine-quality tusks. The African elephant has larger tusks than the Indian, although smaller tusks were often shipped from animals which had been killed to eat or in the constant struggle against crop raiding.
The trade in ivory continues in spite of its ban under the CITES convention of 1989. There are concerns that the population of elephants in some areas is drastically skewed towards female herds where the males are lacking the socialisation necessary to integrate them into the sophisticated "family" structures.

Today it is rare to see a wild elephant with large tusks. Older animals, working in temples, do often have magnificent tusks but these are getting rarer as the elephants die off.

Comments on Amazon

Although I have sold a few books and some Kindle downloads I am not getting many comments on Amazon yet. I put this down to the fact that there are a lot of pages to slog through and possibly that people are being too kind to tell me what they really think.

I have gleaned one 5* review from someone who will remain anonymous and who pointed out the perils of too much boring detail. Ah well!

It is hard to start marketing something which seems to have gone off on its own and doesn't want to belong to me any more. I wrote it because I wanted to and now telling the world about it is difficult and a little embarrassing.

Perhaps when the summer is over and I am shut up in my shed in the rain I will be a bit more energetic about telling the world. Until then my excuse is that without reviews I can't start to shout loudly to the world in general.

Muziris and the Borabadur connection.

For me the romance of the "Periplus of the Erythraen Sea," the sailors' handbook which listed the trade commodities, routes and ports from the Mediterranean to India is contained in the mystery of its language. Names have changed, as have the trade goods on which earlier civilisations depended. The loss of names and growth and death of ports is one reason why it has been so hard to find Muziris and why its location is still contentious with some.

"Muziris, Nelcynda and Bacare;
(to which large ships come for pepper and malabathrum).
Exports:
Pepper, produced in Cottonara
Fine pearls in great quantity
Ivory
Silk cloth
Spikenard from the Ganges
Malabathrum from the interior
Transparent stones of all kinds
Diamonds
Sapphires
Tortoise-shell, from Chryse and from near-by islands"

The goods listed in the export list show that these three ports on the West of present day Kerala were not only sending out native products, but were trading in commodities imported from elsewhere. The pepper was produced in the area around the Pamba River, named Cottonara by Pliny the Elder, and the malabathrum grew in Himalayas and had a long journey South, probably via Cape Cormorin, along with the spikenard.
The silk, pearls and precious stones probably came from present-day Sri Lanka and China and the tortoise shell from as far away as the Phillipines, which was known to the Greeks.

I found a clue as to how these goods travelled such enormous distances routinely on a visit to Java a couple of years ago. A panel in a huge frieze round one of the levels of the temple at Borabadur looked as though it had been sculpted far more recently than the 9th Century.

One Borabadur Ship

Borabadur ship by Michael J. Lowe

Archaeologists reconstructed this ship and its voyage to Madagascar and Africa in 2003. Less well known than the Chinese Junks which traded all over the Indian Ocean, these boats were trading half way across the world in the 8th Century.
The web of trade was vast and worth huge amounts of money. Muziris must have been a very rich place indeed.

Kochi-Muziris Biennale

Digging around the internet for Muziris-related information I was suddenly struck by the lack of anything about the Fort Koch-Muziris Biennale. The last one, in 2012, was a great success, but this year the event, due to start in December, is not out there yet. The biennale web site has artist interviews and reports of the 2012 event, but there is no programme. The link on the website is an impressive, completely blank page, no headers or information..

I shall probably be in Kochi in February and may catch the last of the exhibitions. It is probably the usual last-minute dash of Indian planning, but I feel uneasy on behalf of the international audience and exhibitors who should know by now what they are exhibiting and where. It is no small thing to mount an art exhibition at home, let alone a flight away. After the last success it would be sad to see this going the way of all tourist initiatives in Kerala, lots of hot air, a great launch and fanfare and then a slow sink into obscurity.

Phase Two of the Spice Trail, taking in the Muziris Heritage Project was launched in February with the creation of a new government company to oversee its development. That gives me a sinking feeling in my stomach too. Again, the web is mostly silent on current developments, apart from the usual "there will be" statements about new boat jetties etc. The original sites are being promoted, but the interesting developments are those by private individuals taking advantage of the heritage concept and creating their own spice trails within the state. There is so much to see that this may well serve the interests of "heritage" and tourism in the state far more effectively than the grandiose, stalled state projects.

The joys of the road trip

Every trip we took to India seemed to be a road trip. The distances are sometimes not huge, but the time taken to get from A to B is stretched out by the state of the roads and the mass of other vehicles trying to prevent your progress. Indian roads are renowned for their lethality, lack of rules and general anarchy and we experienced this every time we landed. Once you have acclimatised to the prevailing culture of trusting to whatever god you have faith in, a journey by car is a delight of strange sights and happenings and the time goes quickly.
A source of entertainment is always the other road users. The horror show of whole families belting along a major road on one motorcycle, with the baby balanced on the handlebars soon loses its nerve-racking shock value and the novelty of the various types of vehicle provides an amusing backdrop to the endless tarmac. That is if you have tarmac on your particular road.
Buses, lorries, autorickshaws, jeeps, cars, trucks, motorcycles, bicycles and bullock carts all go about their frenetic daily tasks. These are some of my favourite transport photographs.

The sleeping cart driver

Electioneering- make sure your voice is heard!

The daily commute

I was waiting for this man to take off!

Camel rides

Pig on a bike

Whatever next?

Now that I actually have the book in paperback form the question arises, what next? I never wrote the thing to get it read, particularly, but now it is out there I feel I ought to do something to let people know there is yet another travel / history book about India for them to enjoy.
Publishing was hard enough, but marketing is yet another new game to play and one with which I am not exactly comfortable.
I recently had the experience of sitting in a room with several acquaintances who enthused over the fact that I had written a book. Some of them had been to South India and were genuinely interested, but others seemed to think that writing a lot of words was an achievement in itself. All very embarrassing!
The dreaded Amazon gives many tips and articles on marketing, all of which hinge around having reviews on the site. I think that is going to be a very slow process. It is not a short book and most of the people who have bought it so far (thank you friends!) as far as I can tell, may not necessarily have bought or read yet another travel / history book about India. They have bought it because they know me.
I feel as though I have stripped off in public. I really wouldn't mind severe or negative reviews, I don't think, as long as they were honest. No reviews at all is really scary. Letting it sink without trace is such a relaxing idea!

A Tour of Fort Kochi

One of the most attractive features of Fort Kochi is that there are things which change little over the years. Our first encounter with the autorickshaw drivers who have specific pitches in the tourist areas was on our very first visit and most of the crowd who hang around the Malabar House Hotel are still there.
Salim, with his clean and well-maintained rickshaw is one of the most ubiquitous and persistant. He was our "Ferrari Man" who rebuked us, he kidnapped me and tok me on a whirlwind tour of the tourist shops one afternoon and always stops to chat.
On our last visit, in February this year, there he was. I stopped to chat, and although he probably didn't remember me stopped whenever he saw us and introduced us to his current ride.
His tours of Kochi are recorded by a satisfied customer on YouTube.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPrxsVlDTEkthisvideo

Great tour of the spice market!

At last the paperback is going to appear.

I've finally pressed the button on the paperback of my book and it will be out at the end of the week! These last couple have weeks have been like one of those dreams where you keep trying to do something and then get sent back to the beginning to do it again.
My proof copies arrived in three days, printed and delivered from the US and it was really weird to have a solid copy in my hands. The cover has worked OK, much to my astonishment, and I thought that, after four proof reads, I was home and dry.
I found a mistake the first time I opened the book and all the page numbers on the first couple of chapters had gone squiffy- again. I was rapidly losing the will to live, when enter Richard. My friends from Stroud arrived in their caravan for a week of forts and military tunnels, and while not crawling around underground and when it was raining they volunteered to proof read for me. Richard used to edit very long technical documents and in no time the poor old proof copy was bristling with markers and covered in pencil. Just what was needed! He did a very thorough and accurate job and I can't say how grateful I am.
He didn't get all of the typos, inconsistencies and bad grammar, however, as I proof read it again, for the fifth time and found a couple more daft things. Then back to Amazon to fight their review process and go round in circles a couple more times before I finally pressed the button today!
This is it folks, warts and all and very scary.
It will appear in about three to five days and then the real work begins if I want anyone to buy it. That's a good question.

The Fort Kochi Lorry

One of my most enduring memories of Fort Kochi is the lorry. It sat outside the police station in Fort Kochi for years waiting the resolution of its court case, getting more and more forlorn and more and more spattered with bird poo and draped with vines every time we saw it.
It seemed appropriate on our last visit that it was gone, replaced by a selection of broken and deserted autorickshaws which would probably be gone before they got to their day in court.


The owner presumably did not have the money to release the vehicle, and possibly not the driver.
One night, on his way home and possibly a little fuddled from toddy, which he denied ever drinking, Narayan swerved to miss a cyclist and demolished a wall and the front of his car.

Anil was called to the police station in the middle of the night, where a terrified and intimidated Narayan was trying to explain that if he hadn't demolished the wall he would have demolished the cyclist. Large amounts of money changed hands to prevent the case going to court, a process which could have led to Narayan being in prison for several years and the costs going even higher.
To make matters worse, he lied about his age. Although he was properly licensed and insured, the police inspector thought that he was too old to be driving and took his license away. On reflection, and a further sum of money, it was only taken away for a year. This was bad enough as it was his means of support and there is no social security in India.An additional stress was his usual futile attempts to amass enough money to make a good match for his daughter.
Narayan spent the year working as "security" for Anil's brother, possibly as a night watchman and we doubted whether we would see him again. In the end he turned up at the wheel again, as cheerful and as gung-ho as before.

Ripped off already!

The Kindle version of the book has been up for just four weeks now and already it is appearing on a website as a free download. No, I am not going to tell you where!
I didn't go into publishing it with the idea of making money, but it would be all the same if I needed to recoup my costs.Having spent a career fighting other people's attempts at copyright infringement (well, OK, not too aggressively at times, but always with an eye to not doing it where possible) I find this galling.
How dare people take ownership of what I spent four years producing?
I have demanded that they take it down, which they say will take 72 hours if they decide to do it. Amazon say it is my responsibility to get it removed as I have an agreement with them which says I must not sell the e-book elsewhere. They are not bothered that their links are being hijacked by a resource which then gives their books away- strange, as it is essentially stealing from them as well.
I am not sure I have the energy for this crusade, but it is pretty unfair on those who are trying to write for a living, so I suppose I'd better join.

The Paperback is on its way!

At last, after about ten attempts, I managed to produce a file which was acceptable to the non-humans at Amazon Create, and then acceptable to the human file checkers.
The non-humans seemed to have the most awkward requirements, each check coming up with a different,and increasingly obscure, problem.
The last objection was that some characters were appearing as squares on page 2. There never has been any text on page 2.
In desperation I produced a Word-translated .pdf file and after some grumbling, this was OK.
The next job was pricing. Boy is it expensive to produce print-on-demand books! Having had to choose a price structure which effectively makes me want to apologise and say I'll lend everyone who wants to read my book my own copy, I had to go with the arcane methods and choose a price which means I won't exactly get rich on royalties, but that was never the idea.
So now I am waiting for the proof copy to make its way from America, bearing in mind that the 4th of July will hold everything up.
Still, hate Amazon as you might, I can't fault their systems on this. There is no other way I would be able to have a real book in my hands and a world-wide distribution.

Beggars; to give or not to give? 1.

Mark Tully was asked one how he stood the poverty in India. He answered that he didn’t have to stand it, it was the poor who had to put up with it. This is the only sensible way to face down the guilt which can creep up on you as you sweep past those whose lives are fettered by the need to earn their paltry 100 rupees a day when you have thousands of rupees to spend on just a fortnight. Conscience stalks you all the time in India and our consciences should have been heavier than most. We were encouraging people to use up the planet’s resources to visit one of the poorest places in the developing world cocooned in the luxury we probably did not experience at home.

How did we appear to the people we met on our journeys? Did they resent the fact that, as previous colonial masters, we were coming back to see the results of our handiwork? It seemed not. Everywhere we went we were greeted with curiosity and no animosity. Well, accepting that I did not actually repress anyone a hundred years ago, why should I be blamed? We were often told that the English gave India its two most worthwhile things, the railways and education. This might have been stretching a point in Kerala, but we had left the already liberal education system in good shape. The Civil Service was also beloved of Indians with its clearly defined routes into prosperity and its jobs for life.

On reflection, did I resent the super-rich who had taken over the London I used to live in, the Russians and Chinese, who bought homes and visited them rarely, if at all? I did not. On the rare occasions on which I rubbed shoulders with those with substantially more resources than myself I found them wanting in their intellectual and spiritual lives. Accepting that I was a complete snob, I was happy to play the game with those who wanted to travel to India in a sanitised, smell-free, voyeuristic bubble. I was more sympathetic towards those who wanted the India experience but who were worried about their own reaction to the descriptions of poverty they had heard from others. Not giving to beggars is a sound principal wherever you go in India. There are levels of exploitation and downright badness in Indian society which are hard to grapple with. Orphanages open up at the beginning of the tourist season and close at the end of it, tour groups being shown the wonderful work which is being done with street children who are then back on the street.

Most tour operators have charities which their clients can donate to and we had contacts with an orphanage in Tamil Nadu which was struggling to establish itself. We visited and were overwhelmed by the love and care given to the children. They were all focussed on one thing, to get an education so that they could help their struggling families. Few of the children had lost both parents, most being taken to the home because their parents, or mostly parent, could not afford to keep them any longer. Here were children with disabilities, whose parents were alcoholic or disabled themselves, children whose previous lives had left them scarred and afraid, and we saw children who helped each other, were happy and fed, and who were totally aware of the advantages they were being offered. Krishnamurti and Elsie gave themselves totally to the care of their fifty-strong brood, both money and time and a great deal of love. We were humbled by the visit. There was not a lot we could do apart from try to divert some money their way, little enough for them confronted by a big new building project.

Their work is still going strong. Visit their web site at http://www.hapsi.co.uk/index.html

or the Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/awakemercyhomedgl?fref=ts

and of course send them money. You can be sure that every penny will go where it needs to, to the education and care of the children.

Self-publishing

Having taken the decision to publish my book myself on Amazon, I never really considered what this would mean.
The Kindle edition has gone very smoothly and the fact that you are publishing to display on several types of device means that issues of formatting are easily sorted- the simpler the better. However, the paperback is a whole new world. It should be straightforward, but it's not.The formatting of the paperback file so that it prints properly is dealt with by means of a Word template. So far so OK, until the book gets to 390 pages and the file starts to choke on the sections.
The text is a piece of cake, but the headers and footers have driven me close to despair. However, I got it into the right place in Amazon, complete with cover design. What do you put on the back cover if you have no ecstatic comments from celebrities and newspapers? Write your own blurb, again---- and again----- and it still doesn't take up enough room!

the back cover

Then the pictures. We had to stage a photo shoot in the back garden to simulate me walking along the beach staring into the distance, and then resort to a heavy edit. It took just over two weeks to get it more or less right and I still forgot to compensate for the fact that the photo makes me look less than glamorous.
The Amazon system allows you to look at an electronic proof copy, so I did and discovered that three proof reads are not enough. I found a completely unbelievable number of errors in the text, mostly tenses and missing words which had got cut out in a previous edit, and a couple of formatting problems.
A week later, I am ready to go again, but Amazon will not let me load my amended file. I don't know why, and am gritting my teeth and waiting for the help desk to get back to me.
What have I learned? This is not to be done in a hurry. I am a couple of months behind where I hoped I would be and the ***** book is still driving my daily life. It's got to the stage where I am anxious about what I will do when I eventually manage to get the stupid thing on sale! I have also learned that being a publisher is something you have to take seriously, and, with a world-wide distribution, you are a publisher, like it or not.
Thank you to the four wonderful people who have bought the Kindle version! I will soon be able to market the thing and perhaps sell four paperbacks.
Job done!

Looking for the Sri Lankan Frogmouth

At a loose end in Cochin one day we decided to take the long drive north to the bird sanctuary at Thattekad. Although not large, the sanctuary was the first in India and contains a rich diversity of the birds which once populated all of the Western Ghats and its plains.
Arriving at mid day in the heat, we were greeted with the usual mixture of astonishment and a polite shrug. We had our passport details noted at the gate, and wandered in to the dispiriting little zoo while we waited for our guide. Sukhdeep was young and passionate about birds. First he took us to his house in the park, small and basic, he was hoping that it would be a homestay for bird watchers one day. Several of these  are situated inside the walls and make it possible for serious birders to take advantage of the best hours for seeing the active birds, dawn and dusk. He warned us that we would see nothing worth seeing, but we assured him that a walk through the sanctuary would satisfy us.
Some canoeists on the lake shouted that there were hornbills nearby, but we didn't see any, only a pile of rubbish round "Hornbill Camp," a concrete tower let out to tourists. We couldn't see any indication of bathrooms or a kitchen area, but they may have been hidden underneath.

Sukhdeep was anxious that I could manage to cross the bridge on the circular walk as there was a gap of at least one metre to be negotiated. Failure would have meant retracing our steps and a longer trek, so I assured him that "Mama" was fit and agile and gingerly crossed the ruined, wooden bridge by means of one of the side struts, not thinking about crocodiles or whatever else might be lurking in the muddy water below.
That excitement over, he took us to see the Sri Lankan Frogmouth. This rare, owl-like bird sleeps during the day, so we crept up on its thicket as silently as we could, taking off our brightly coloured hats. The photograph does not do it justice.


There were a pair of birds and neither of them so much as blinked. If you want to know what one looks like, go to
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sri_Lankan_Frogmouth

Our story was repeated often by clients we sent to Thattekat, recommending Sukhdeep as a guide. Every one told us that they had seen a pair of these somnolent birds in exactly the same location. We began to suspect that they were stuffed and nailed to the perch.

Text versus pictures

One of the most frustrating things about writing the book has been that I haven't been able to include pictures. Nothing shows the reality better than a photograph snapped in an instant of something unexpected.
Some of my favourite pictures show the way that the past and the present are always mingled together.

An elephant on the road

When we first went to India the Internet cafes were everywhere and always busy. For a few rupees you could struggle with the dodgy connections and eventually get an email through. Hotels were sometimes equipped with reasonable speed connections, but here too, you  needed patience and a non-urgent situation not to go mad as the times whirled and everything cut out at the crucial moment.

Today things are different almost everywhere you go, but a real revolution has come in the decision to skip land lines and go straight to wireless infrastructure.
Once there was a shack with STDC in large and wobbly letters on its side, where you could make a trunk call,. in every village and every stopping-place. These are now confined to remote areas, and even there the mobile phone is ubiquitous. Cheap tablet computers are advertised everywhere and the traditional PC has never arrived.
This picture of a mahout on his way somewhere is typical, phone clamped to ear for the next arrangement.

Not finished after all.

Still struggling to complete the paperback version of the book! The next job is the cover. I have so many photos I don't know where to begin.

I have also been touched at the messages from people finding the book and giving congratulations for actually finishing it. It's not done yet. Daunting.

Chinese fishing nets, Fort Kochi

This picture possibly encapsulates the changes in Fort Kochi over the last few years. The LPG terminal sits at the mouth of the inlet, finished but unused, while the fishing nets, first used here in the fifteenth century, according to legend, go up and down as they always have.

Finished at last!

After nearly three years of slog, I have finished the book and uploaded the Kindle version to Amazon. The paperback will follow as and when I can grapple with the technical complication, but I hope it will be soon.
The point was to write the book. The idea of people reading it feels strange, although I hope they do.
I suspect I won't feel that I have finished until I have a copy of the paperback in my hand!

Everyone asks, why and what is Muziris? Muziris is the semi-mythical port in South India which was used by the Greeks and Romans in the trade for pepper. Semi-mythical, in that although it was known and written about by contemporary poets and traders, the site of Muziris is not reliably known.

MB Muziris

The ancient trading Empires which had contact with Southern India are many, and each one has left relics of itself all over the country, but these are often elusive and difficult to untangle. They are undeniably romantic, as is the idea of India itself. The reality is sometimes different, as our experiences trying to do business there shows.