God's Own Country

When I had to take a few days off from work to go to Kerala to be with my in-laws and visit a few temples and relatives, I jumped at it because I badly needed a break from my work (ok, I hate my work. Any chance to get away from it is like an invitation to a party where your company is paying for the booze). So off I went to God’s own country; amidst nonstop rains which in Bangalore would have caused unimaginable traffic chaos… Wait; that is not something new. So here I was traveling from one village to another by bus, auto or train – marveling at the lush green landscapes, wondering about how many fucking shades there were of green, listening to my favorite songs, getting “is-she-mendal?” looks from co-passengers for mouthing the lyrics to the songs and moving my head as I did it.

Temples in Kerala have poojas at unbelievable hours, which meant not enough sleep for the little baby that I am (stop smirking!), and every now and then I’d fall asleep during the bus journeys, only to be duly woken up by the bus as it went through potholes in between which some road peeped out. But I wasn’t complaining because I always woke up to breathtakingly beautiful sights that, as I mentioned, took my breath away. Lot of puttu-kadala and pazham-puzhungiyadu (Dear Mallus, you could eat bananas even without boiling, you know?) later, I was standing in the Guruvayoor temple beside the elephant there and had this amazingly heartfelt conversation with him. Then there was this little cat that was playing within the temple that purred so nicely when I was petted her, much to the disapproval of the mother-in-law. Mother-in-laws exist. Even in God’s own country!

By the end of my stay at Kerala, I couldn’t wait to get back to work. The place was right out of a post-card, but I had had enough. I needed to be back in a city that is polluted and traf-fucked where I had a manager to bitch about. But ever since I came back to Bangalore (and to work), I have been hating it. And as often, I want to run away to a far off place where I know nobody. I want to live in a new city, explore it, make new friends, work there in a cross-cultural environment, not think about what to cook after reaching home every night, not worry about eating out all the time – spend a few months with not a care about anything. The wild cat inside me threatens to get out.

Somebody find me a job in Spain. Mallorca to be precise.