Again, you may ask yourself 'How did I get here?'. It started, as so many good things in my life did at St Andrews. During my over-extended doctorate, I shared a flat with a bloke who had spent most of the 80s in India, mainly in Kerala. He's become a long-term friend, as has his wife and their three daughters. I've been fascinated by his stories: mad exploits in India and living in the depths of the Sumatran jungle. (His wife is from west Sumatra.) A lot of this journey has been engendered by my desire to see for myself!
He told me just before I left Scotland of the village in Idukki district he stayed in. I've been spiralling down (to this hole in the ground?) ever since I've been in India. I had finally had enough of Kumily and wanted to actually visit this village before the rain became unbearable.
I'd been told the nearest place I could stay was a town called Cheruthony, about 7 miles north of Idukki. Despite this administrative district being named after Idukki, Idukki itself is a blink-and-you-miss-it village.
I arrived in Cheruthony about mid-day and, feeling beligerent and energised by being ripped off in Kumily*, I decided to walk to the village my friend had described. I'd also been nauseated by the bus journey to Cheruthony, especially when a bloke sat just ahead of me vomited in his sleep agains the closed window.
*total cost: one pair of undies [and the ripper was welcome to my used grunts], 100 rupees and a half-bottle of local rough brandy. Not a large amount but currently equivalent to a day's food and accommodation)
Cheruthony isn't much bigger than Idukki village - it's about the size of the medieval part of St Andrews but sat on a relatively important river-crossing. It has two hotels, a post office and the usual range of services and traffic noises. I stayed in the cheaper hotel (the Shikkara) and had a perfectly fine room (en-suite shower/bathroom and balcony [YEEHAH]) but often no water. The hotel staff tried to convince me that this was because their water tank was empty but because it had rained every day for the last week and I could hear folk in the next room showering, I tended to, ahem, disbelieve them. By the way, the other, far posher, hotel was the Hotel Stonage. Make of that what you will!
Cheruthony has what is sign-posted to be a small boating lake. I saw people there and so wondered if I could have a go. I met an attendant there who told me that the boats were long-gone and that I wouldn't be allowed to swim in it. I think some people wash their clothes there but otherwise it's unused.
The walk took me past the entrance-drive to Idukki dam. This is a fantastic structure, a piece of smoothness that somehow blends well with the jaggedness of the mountains it's amid. I couldn't get as close as I wanted - there were no officials to ask at the entrance and police were prowling but not being helpful and I didn't want to end up wearing a lathi internally. It was now that I found out how badly ants can bite - I brushed against the nest that's one one of today's photos and in a tiny instant many of them got onto me and bit me all over. I ran away, screaming!
I also recall my attempt to cut myself a walking-stick. I found one on the edge of the dam side-road and so started to shape it and cut off the side-branches with my pen-knife. Someone who lived at one of the houses on the road called me over and asked what I was doing. I told him and he produced a fearsome-looking knife and did the job in a few strokes. He turned out to be an artist who loved this view.
I walked on past a driveway to a new-ish house. (There's quite a lot of new building in this area, funded by tourism and oil-money). The owner beckoned me and got his sons to put me on a bus to my destination.
The village itself is another Y-junction, a few small shops and chai-stalls and some rather dilapidated houses. One of the shop-owners appears to remember my friend - talking with him and his daughter was all I had time to do this afternoon before the rain and dark set in.
On the way I'd been passed by a guy called Ajeeshkumar and his friend Shaji. Ajeesh is a local Red Cross, development and eco-worker and his friend is a journalist for a malayalam newspaper called Deepika. How I wished I'd brought my NUJ card! (Actually I had but I couldn't find it at the time) They caught up with me again at the chai-stall and Ajeesh invited me to stay with him for a while and see 'real India'. I arranged to meet him on Wednesday (31st) morning to go to his village - I still wanted to nose around here a bit more. While we were drinking chai at a small stall, the heavens opened again. You can catch a glimpse on the movie on this page. Ajeesh and Shaji gave me a lift back to Cheruthony and then went on their way. The rain continued all through the night and well into the next day.
© (except the blatantly ripped-off bits) Random Bozo 2006