Kumarakom: Jewel in God’s Own Crown

I’m taking in the scenes from a wide glass window on the upper floor of a big vallam, or country boat. With air-conditioning, two bedrooms, lounge, open decks and food on call, this motorized vallam is a floating luxury apartment. There’s even Charles Anthony, singer and guitarist from nearby Kochi [Cochin], entertaining fellow tourists and me. As we cruise along, everybody’s struck by the beauty of Kumarakom’s clear lagoons, and rice fields that reach the horizon in a band of coconut palms. There’s every shade of green. And the blues form a symphony of sky and water. 

Kumarakom in Kottayam district has become the poster child of Kerala Tourism. Off the boat, I’ve checked in at Zuri Kumarakom, an 18-acre world-class spa resort with many nods to local tradition. Three days of pampering here and my eyes were opened to what tourists to these parts rave about. A short Saturday morning drive and I’m in the main Kumarakom Village with its bustling market, school, and temples, even a renowned agricultural research centre. But as one trying to delve into Kumarakom’s soul, I decide to talk to a local writer first, and I must find one.

I stop at a photo studio. Babu G.K., the owner, tells me of a famous woman author. “But I can’t recall her name,” says Babu, and phones a friend.

“It’s Arundhati Roy,” Babu declares, hanging up. Indeed, Aymanam village, adjoining Kumarakom, is where Roy’s bestselling novel The God of Small Things is set. It’s her mother’s native place, but she herself lives in New Delhi. I have to find another, a resident, and ask around at the market. Mohan P.P., a helpful daily wage earner, walks me promptly to the villa of Viswadas V.G., the popular local poet. 

Fortunately Viswadas, fiftyish and friendly, is home. I apologize for arriving without an appointment. He smiles warmly, his wife and teenaged daughter looking on. In Kerala villages, visitors are indulged. They insist on feeding me dosa, but I refuse since I’d just had breakfast. Over a cold
orange drink, I learn that Viswadas is actually a draughtsman with the state waterworks and a poet in his spare time. Politically upfront like most Keralites, Viswadas reveals how he is most busy during elections, when he writes verses in praise of his favourite candidates. “Last time I also wrote a street play,” he says, “and that helped our Left Democratic Front candidate win.” 

Viswadas also reveals his fears, of development disturbing his beloved village. “In my childhood,” he tells me, “this place had no tourists, and there were many more thodu—natural canals. I see the whole place falling apart.” Before parting, I ask for a rendering of one of his verses, but the political poet surprises me with his romantic side. He recites in the alliterative style and jaunty beat of Kerala’s vanchi-pattu [boat songs]. His verse describes Kumarakom as a damsel with intoxicating eyes luring him with treats of kappa [tapioca], glasses of freshly tapped toddy, sardines and karimeen, Kerala’s favourite fish. 

Later, I made it a point to taste the large karimeen, called pearlspot in English. It’s wrapped in banana leaf and pan-roasted under the watchful eyes