After a long time, I returned to Kochi.
It was a very unsettling part of my life when I went there, with hopes and wishes to settle there, in Kochi.
During my stay in Kochi, it was rich in experience in the form of a continous flow of childhood memories; I got to be in the past again at my grandmother's place.
It's good to just exist sometimes.
Not trying to change the world, not trying to deliberately make things happen.
Sometimes it's good to leave some of the details to nature and let it show us all the wonders that were never expected.
One such magical journey was the local boat ride I took, about twice. Just for the heck of it.
I make it a point to do this whenever I am in Kochi.
Go to nearest boat jetty, get on a boat and travel to the other side of the town through the backwaters covered with floating hydrilla plants, among the cargo ships arriving and leaving, among the islands visible in the distance, covered with vegetation almost overflowing into the sea, not to forget the one or two stops the boat takes at the land masses it encounters and the people rushing in and out, some with bicycles, some going to work, some tourists and maybe some like me, wondering where else can a bus be floating across the water rocking with the waves when it's tied to a wooden pillar when it's stopping at a jetty, and you rocking along with the waves and waiting for the joy ride to begin, the conductor issuing tickets to all the passengers for a mere five or seven rupees and signalling the driver seated like a captain on top of the boat with a bell in a sound coded message for on your mark, get, set and go!
The occasional ship from a far away land might pass very close to the boat making you feel so insignificant and makes you wonder how man could even make such humungous metal vessels that float on water and even move like some giant swimming tortoise.
I usually reached the end the of my journey and sat in a park to look at the backwaters all the way till the ocean.
It's something I would keep staring at and never know what time it was or what I had to do next.
The feeling of wind on my face and the reflections of the sun on the seas.
The huge machinery moving the containers and the little fishing boats, even smaller than the bus boats!
When I felt like I was saturated by the feelings this place could give me, it was time to go back home, at least for now, at least because I could come back here again.
And then, when I traced my route back to where I came from, the boat ride takes a different mood, with the sky changed in color, the ocean a little calmer, or maybe rougher at places, with the bigger motor driven fishing boats going back and forth and the people returning from work patiently wainting to get back home again.
It was a very unsettling part of my life when I went there, with hopes and wishes to settle there, in Kochi.
During my stay in Kochi, it was rich in experience in the form of a continous flow of childhood memories; I got to be in the past again at my grandmother's place.
It's good to just exist sometimes.
Not trying to change the world, not trying to deliberately make things happen.
Sometimes it's good to leave some of the details to nature and let it show us all the wonders that were never expected.
One such magical journey was the local boat ride I took, about twice. Just for the heck of it.
I make it a point to do this whenever I am in Kochi.
Go to nearest boat jetty, get on a boat and travel to the other side of the town through the backwaters covered with floating hydrilla plants, among the cargo ships arriving and leaving, among the islands visible in the distance, covered with vegetation almost overflowing into the sea, not to forget the one or two stops the boat takes at the land masses it encounters and the people rushing in and out, some with bicycles, some going to work, some tourists and maybe some like me, wondering where else can a bus be floating across the water rocking with the waves when it's tied to a wooden pillar when it's stopping at a jetty, and you rocking along with the waves and waiting for the joy ride to begin, the conductor issuing tickets to all the passengers for a mere five or seven rupees and signalling the driver seated like a captain on top of the boat with a bell in a sound coded message for on your mark, get, set and go!
The occasional ship from a far away land might pass very close to the boat making you feel so insignificant and makes you wonder how man could even make such humungous metal vessels that float on water and even move like some giant swimming tortoise.
I usually reached the end the of my journey and sat in a park to look at the backwaters all the way till the ocean.
It's something I would keep staring at and never know what time it was or what I had to do next.
The feeling of wind on my face and the reflections of the sun on the seas.
The huge machinery moving the containers and the little fishing boats, even smaller than the bus boats!
When I felt like I was saturated by the feelings this place could give me, it was time to go back home, at least for now, at least because I could come back here again.
And then, when I traced my route back to where I came from, the boat ride takes a different mood, with the sky changed in color, the ocean a little calmer, or maybe rougher at places, with the bigger motor driven fishing boats going back and forth and the people returning from work patiently wainting to get back home again.
