Home again after our visit to the Kochi-Muziris Biennale

We arrived home a day late after our latest trip to India and Sri Lanka. I will not go into the misery of a delayed flight, 24 hours after a bout of Sri Lankan food poisoning. It was strange not trying to research anything, but I did do a couple of nifty visits to book shops to promote my book. They were very keen on a general, readable history of Kerala, so perhaps I shall resurrect the project and get writing again. Apart from a whistle-stop tour of the major tourist centres with our friends Karen and Mike- their first visit to India- I planned to visit the Kochi-Muziris Biennale. In the event, it was an even more whistle-stop tour of the exhibitions.

I wanted to see the art, but I also wanted to gain access to some of the warehouses which are not usually open, the main one being Aspinwalls. I wish we had had a fortnight to see it all! The organisers, mostly artists themselves, had done a fabulous job in getting together a show of such high quality in such difficult spaces against the problems which had bedevilled this year's exhibition. Add the India factor to this and I take my hat off to them. On the day we visited it was fairly quiet, apart from gangs of school children who seemed appreciative of most of the work.In the town, the general consensus was that the Biennale had not attracted much extra trade, but I hope this isn't so. Visitor numbers last year were high, and I hope they were not all school parties!

The incomprehensible title, Whorled Explorations, led to an exhausting round of trying to read the equally convoluted and incomprehensible descriptions of the artists' work. I have written this stuff myself. Sometimes the art work is made with the title in mind and then the description seems to make sense. Sometimes the work, or its antecedents, exists, and then the description has to be bent to fit the exhibition title. Mostly I had to give up reading after a couple of paragraphs before my head exploded. I had to resist thinking that it was mostly pretension, but....... Possibly some of it was lost in translation. In the end I gave up trying to make sense of the work and enjoyed it for its own sake, and very enjoyable much of it was too..

Aspinwalls warehouse had had a bit of a facelift, but did not look as though it was in a state of terminal decay, in spite of its long empty years. The art was good enough to distract me from the building, Charles and Ray Eames video being engaging enough to delay exploration for some time.

Aspinwalls offices

We had to rush off to the Pepper House before I had time to see the Anish Kapoor, and took advantage of the handy electric golf buggy which ferried us along the most unpleasant and hottest part of the road.

Pepper House

I have written about Gigi Scaria's bell before, and we had seen it from a boat on the previous day and were keen to get a close up view. It did not disappoint. The subtle metallic tones and the fall of water made it a most beautiful and restful sculpture. Here India intruded and made me sad. The photograph we took shows very clearly that a great deal of work and effort to locate this piece to its best advantage was undermined by the fatal lack of attention to detail which dogs everything in India.

Underneath the bell, where the sump for the circulation of the water had been installed, there was rough soil and gravel and the inevitable rubbish, not much of it washed in from the river. No attempt seemed to have been made to clear it up , or the patch of depressing grass to the side, where plastic bottles, polystyrene and unidentifiable litter lay everywhere. Did it detract from the sculpture? A little. Would it have happened at any other major art show? I very much doubt it.

The organisers had managed to put on a well-organised and world-class exhibition and I hope that the next one is even an improvement on this one, but somehow I fear that it will not gain international status until it takes more pride in its wonderful location.

Off to Kerala again!

We are in the usual chaos of packing to go to India next week. I keep thinking that I have done this so many times that it should only take me an hour or so. I remember writing about my packing in my book, and nothing has changed much.

I looked to John Murray, a nineteenth century expert:"Murray’s advice on packing initially reflected my own need to put everything into my suitcase “just in case,” but my luggage was not a patch on the Murray inventory. He helpfully divides the lists into two, one for men and one for women. I doubt whether any woman’s wardrobe today contains the vast numbers of garments essential for a visit
to India: huge amounts of underclothes including mosquito trousers for sleeping, flannel petticoats, four dressing gowns and a morning robe, forty-six handkerchiefs and quantities of thick lisle  stockings. For the long sea voyage the 3 cwt, or over one hundred and fifty kilograms of baggage
allowance did not include the furniture required in the cabin, but did include three sofa covers and mattresses and a bag with a hammer and nails. This was more like it. I thought that a hammer and nails would be useful for getting the mosquito net to stick to hotel fittings, but Murray added them as an essential for nailing your cabin furniture to the floor in case of rough seas."
A recent visit to SS Great Britain in Bristol made me rethink the hardiness of these early travellers. The cabins were cramped and claustrophobic, even in first class and I couldn't imagine where they put the furniture.
"Current baggage allowances did not faze me, but there were things which I would not throw out of my case. The medical kit, at first crammed with disinfectant, water purifying tablets, of which I used precisely none, antibiotics, medication for various kinds of internal disorder, antihistamines and so on gradually shrunk to a manageable size. It still held enough stomach upset medication in it to Mr Modi. a large ox, even though we never have had a tummy bug in all our visits, lots of anti-insect products, high factor sun screen and pain killers. James kept telling me you could get anything in India where there was little restriction on the sale of pharmaceuticals, but I had seen an Indian pharmacy where everything sat jumbled together in the heat. The mosquito net remained a packing essential. I would have relinquished my pants quicker than those reassuring white billows. If the air-conditioning worked, the mosquitoes went away, but electricity was a fickle commodity and mosquitoes weren’t the only things which menaced me in the night. Geckos and detritus from their wriggling meals and on one occasion, a tree frog, fell on us. Mice raced around the rafters in the more eco-friendly places and there were tell-tale bits of ecological stuff on the bedspreads. An empty bag went into the large suitcase to take account of purchases and to hold the dirty washing, festering in the heat, kept apart from the things I have managed to get to the dhobi."

I would now add a couple of clean pillow cases and a wind-up torch.
As well as looking forward to seeing how the biennale is progressing, I am interested to see what the people are making of their new Prime Minister, Mr Modi. On our last visit I was fascinated that everyone, Muslim, Christian or of no faith had decided that Narendra Modi was the one to turn the economy round, as he had done in Gujerat. A year in, some of my less optimistic prophesies are beginning to come about, as he divides the country via the language, proposing to make Hindi the official language of government and turning a blind eye to some of the excesses of his ultra-conservative party members. His apparent move towards Pakistan and developing relationship with the USA look good in terms of global capital, his desire to get rid of organisations like Greenpeace which upset the status quo, less so.

Object No. 8: The palm tree

Many years ago, before I had caught the travel bug, I made a bucket list of all the things I wanted to see in the world. I did not go in for activities or places, but rather humble things  that I wanted to experience. Along with the coral reef, (Tick!) a rain forest, (Tick!) and a growing pineapple (Tick) was a coconut growing on a tree.
Now it seems crazy that I should have picked out something so available as special, but then I had only seen coconuts in pictures of tropical beaches and wild lagoons. The coconut is special when thinking about Kerala. It is a resource that has sustained the country for millennia and is still locally important, although the market value of coconut products varies wildly and is generally low.
The food of the South relies heavily on coconut oil. The many fried snacks are prepared using coconut oil, which takes the place of the Northern clarified butter in traditional dishes. The palm tree has an important part to play in the reclamation of the backwater paddy fields. Palm trees are planted, along with bananas, along the clay bunds, helping to take the water out of the soil and to stabilise the boundaries. AS well as providing a crop, the precious land is enough to tether a cow or two.

There are two products which are all-important. The coir, which forms the basis of the coconut matting trade, experiencing a great resurgence with the demand for sustainable products, and which has always been in demand for rope, and toddy, the fermented palm wine which is drunk all over the South and wherever palm trees are found. The tourist on a houseboat ride is sometimes taken into a dank and noisome den to sample the toddy.

In "dry" Kerala, toddy drinking is sometimes seen as an embarrassing workman's habit, and there is no doubt that is adds to the total of alcohol-related problems. It persists, though, and provides employment for nearly a thousand in the skilled work of tapping the trees, and several thousand in the toddy shops. It is a treat to watch the tappers shin up the trees, a breath-holding circus act, as they are without any kind of safety rope and some of the trees are very tall. The sap of a cut bud is collected as it weeps into the jar during the day. By nightfall the sap has fermented in the heat and toddy is made, all by itself. Toddy collected from palms other than the coconut takes longer to mature.

Recent moves to make Kerala a dry state and to close the grudgingly licensed liquor shops led to plans to expand the toddy industry and to clean up the bars and shops which sold it.

http://zeenews.india.com/news/kerala/kerala-eyes-toddy-to-fill-liquors-gap_1470233.html

Since announcing the ban on alcohol, which would have mant that only 20 five-star hotels would have been able to sell it, and none on Sundays, the government has faced challenges in the High Court which means that the state will stay damp, but not quite dry.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-india-30544717

Seeing my coconuts on the trees has led me to an appreciation of the essential nature of the trees and their part in the life of South India

Object Number 7: Houseboat Food

I am not sure that any aspect of the huge range of the food in Kerala can be contained under the heading of a single object, but if there is one thing that resounds and reminds when you are back home, it is the memory of the food.
Often, the most memorable meals are the ones taken on the houseboat. The houseboat cooks are not trained chefs, but often village men who have learned their craft from the best cooks of all, their mothers and wives.

A selection of vegetable dishes, often a chicken curry and, if you are lucky, a kareemi fish cooked wrapped in its own banana leaf appear, accompanied by the huge, red-streaked grains of Kerala rice. Anything and everything can appear on your banana leaf plate, beetroot, cabbage, bitter gourds, yard-long beans, tiny, puffy papadums and a red-hot sambal, and it all keeps coming. A plate of raw cucumber, onion, tomato and carrots will probably be safe to eat, and when you are so stuffed that it is a good job that your only task will be to sit and watch the backwaters go by, the leaves are thrown overboard to add to the pollution and to feed the fish and the crew go astern to finish up what's left over.
A plate of carved pineapple and bananas appear next to finish you off completely.
The lucky passenger will have a dedicated cook who pulls out all the stops at breakfast too. A traditional breakfast of curries and sambal will be available, but if you are like me and can't face hot and spicy breakfasts, you might get appam, a tapioca pancake, puffy, fermented iddlies along with floppy toast and an omelette,
Although the food is moderated for pathetic Western palates it will still be fiery with pepper and aromatic with all the spices which have been grown here for millennia. Each spice is worthy of an object in its own right, as are the dhosas and parathas and variations of coconut products, the lethally fried snacks and street food. I still have plenty of objects to go!

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.”