It was beautiful. The mauve-pink banana flower slowly unfurling, looking up at the late evening sun sitting mellow on the yellow tip of its tiny florets. We had only ever seen sturdy, beetroot-maroon flowers pointing downward on banana trees, never this delicate, pastel version.
We were in Meenmutty, located between Mysuru and Kozhikode, amid coffee bushes sporting little red berries within plucking distance, fireflies like stars in the fathomless night, sunset and moonrise on either side of dew-drenched mountains, and birds… One red-headed little lady with a bright green body, a yellowish underside, and black-lined eyes hopped and jumped as my sister-in-law Shobha and I watched from the open veranda, refusing to leave her perch and resisting being photographed.
We wondered what her name was and if she was lonely, and if her tail was green too and as I lifted the camera to my eye, off she flew. She was back in a little while, just as we were talking about her to others in our small group, this time with her boyfriend. Ceremoniously she turned around and showed off her green tail feathers, and then the couple were off.
Rooted in beauty
Why would anybody want to leave this rich, deep silence for the bustle and bristle of city life? There’s fresh air, it’s clean, vegetables and fruits are available in plenty, the soil teems with life and possibilities of growth, the roads are narrow but so smooth, and the food utterly coconutally delicious. The only discordant note was the widespread construction activity – huge huge houses mushrooming all over the mountainside. Not that people shouldn’t build, but surely, size matters?
Chestnut-headed Bee-eater (Merops leschenaulti)
Inji-puli miracles
However, there was a miracle awaiting us at Sultan Bathery, where we had a tasty meal on a banana leaf at the uptown Hotel Winton, which served freshly made inji-puli (ginger tamarind chutney). It was so good, we wanted to take some home, and were disappointed to learn they didn’t have any to sell.
Later that afternoon, as we wended our way back to the resort in our tempo traveller brilliantly driven by our lad from Karnataka, Hanumantha, we had just one more stop to make: for spices. Scouring the shops in Sultan Bathery, we discovered Laxmi Spices, run by the charming Rina and Nazir Machan, with the help of their daughter Fathima, son-in-law Zoro and young son Hashmi. Black pepper, cardamom, clove, nutmeg, coffee… all of it displayed so attractively. The icing on the cake were the bars of spiced chocolate from Genspice: ginger, mace, mixed masalas and more.
“Where can we get inji-puli ?” my sister-in-law Surekha asked Rina. Somewhere far down the road, Rina responded, after checking with someone. That was entirely in the opposite direction. “Actually, I make inji-puli very well,” Rina said, with a naughty smile that lit up the entire shop. “How long are you here?” As it happened, we were leaving at 5.30 am the following morning. It was around 6 pm already. But Rina insisted, and, to cut a long story short, the following morning as we made our way to Muthanga national park which is the Kerala-third part of Mudumalai and Bandipur, we stopped at Laxmi Spices.
It was dark, all the shops were closed. As we waited we heard the spluttering of an auto and saw a hand thrust out a bag – Rina’s inji-puli . Now, we want all our friends and their friends to shop at Laxmi Spices.
About turn
Like all return journeys, this one too sped past and we were in Mysuru way ahead of time. So we trooped into Mall of Mysore, city creatures that we are, and watched Airlift. It has its flaws, but if you can forgive the first 15-20 minutes of amateur everything, it’s a gripping tale, more because it is based on the true incident of the largest civilian air evacuation in aviation history – and that glory belongs to Air India.
What made the viewing special was that I watched it in the company of three long-time Air India staffers. I must admit it made me feel young people should watch the film, that we too often are so self-deprecating we don’t give the next generation a chance to lean on the good bits of history. Granted the film is not a true representation of the events, but then it’s a feature film, not a documentary film, and it doesn’t claim to be a true representation. But yes, it does make me want to know more, not just about what happened to stranded Indian nationals in Kuwait, but also in Iraq, Syria, Yemen…. It makes me think about what it means to leave behind everything in a place you have made home and run for your life.
So, is home where you are born, or where you make it? Can you ever be at home even when you are back home in the land of your birth?
Incidentally, the inji-puli is finger-licking delicious, and the bird couple are chestnut-headed little green bee eaters. Thank you, Rina. Thank you, birdy num-nums.