I wrote an aerogramme to an old workmate (Keith Nunn) and walked into Kovalum with George to post it. Martin chose to swan about on the beach, peering surreptitiously over his book at the scantily clad ladies.
The air was full of the chip chipping of stone breakers in the quarry as we walked into the lazy little village. The Post Office was closed, but we posted our letters in the box and George changed up some money in the local bank.
The weather was still heavily humid and overcast with occasional spots of rain. This southern state appears to be more organised and the people wealthier than in other parts of India that we had visited. They certainly appear to be more politically motivated as the slogans daubed on the walls and the red hammer and sickle bunting in Trivandrum will testify.
As we walked back towards the beach a jeep with a loudspeaker system passed us blaring political clap trap. Kerala was the first place to freely vote in a Communist Government in 1957. A Communist-led government under E. M. S. Namboodiripad resulted from the first elections for the new Kerala Legislative Assembly in 1957, making him the first communist leader in India to head a popularly elected government.
I am informed by Wikipedia that an important feature of the anti-Colonial struggles in Malabar district, Cochin Kingdom and Travancore Kingdom (these three regions will later form Kerala state, along with some regions from South Kanara) in the 1920s and 1930s was the increasing involvement of peasants and workers. The peasant and labour movements of the 1930s were to a great extent the cause as well as the consequence of the emergence of a powerful left wing in politics.
We went down to the beach and went swimming while Martin sat on the sand surrounded by vendors of fruit, mats and sarongs. At 15:30 hrs. we had lunch in the Shangri-La. The dull oppressive weather seems to have brought a general air of depression with it and everybody is sitting sullenly and dismal despite a lively output from the music cassette deck.
We locked our valuables in our room and clad in our swimming costumes we returned to bathe in the sea. The sky was steel grey, but it was warm and the rain went unnoticed as we were tossed and buffeted by some of the biggest waves yet. The beach was deserted and remained so when we returned to the Shangri-La for supper.
I tried the boiled vegetable platter, which was wholesome, but almost devoid of taste. A mixed crowd of Aussies and English travellers came in and immediately began to pry into the affairs of others. We left them to it, negotiating the vague path from Sreevas to the road connecting the beach to the village, in the darkness.
The rain sounded worse than it was, in fact it was really only spitting. We bought some postcards and wrote them in a café patronised by a hippy group who were avidly smoking dope between two stereo speakers blaring heavy rock music. A tubby American hippy drawled “isn’t it incongruous that we are in Southern India listening to American rock, and American singers such as Bob Dylan and Eric Clapton”.
We returned to our abode along the track, trying to avoid the puddles and the belching frogs, as we tried to make out the path through thick vegetation in the sodden gloom. Our flip flops stuck in the mud and then suddenly flipped free, sending a shower of wet sand up the backs of our legs.
This morning as we were following this trail we saw many black birds with yellow diamonds around their eyes running through the grass. These were probably the common myna or Indian myna, sometimes spelled mynah, is a member of the family Sturnidae native to Asia. An omnivorous open woodland bird with a strong territorial instinct, the common myna has adapted extremely well to urban environments.
There were also nasty black raven-type birds with grey hoods perched on tethered cattle and the low stone walls. One calf looked as though it was dead, and these evil looking birds were pecking out it’s eyes, but suddenly it stirred and they all flew off.
Due to the weather the Shangri-La was still chock full of beanbags (bores) so we read our books in our room before passing into slumber.
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