Lessons from Kannur

Living in a big city can be confounding as the race to get ‘more’ disorients you into believing that ‘things’ give you happiness. We want more CC in our car, sheen on our walls, colour in our hair, designer in our jeans and microplastic in our facewash. 

We escaped the big city for a bit and here are some lessons from four days in Kannur.

Less is so much More.

We stayed in Kannur Beach House which didn’t announce itself with loud banners. Instead we were met by the smiling host, Rosi, many coconut trees and the resident kingfisher. The rooms had the sea, backwaters, delicious breeze and the song of a koel, who sat on the almond tree outside the balcony. It had beds with clean, local handloom linen which kept us cool at night. It had one pillow per person not eleven like in the typical hotels, which instantly sprain your neck. The doors and windows were 200 year old, re-purposed from old houses being demolished. No random pieces of ‘art’ furniture nor TV nor any other distractions that could take your mind away from the beauty of the place.  We slept like babies on all four days.

Plant trees, and happiness

As we entered the home, we saw an Englishman frantically waving a stick over his head, while watering a row of freshly planted hibiscus. We had come to Kannur to watch Theyyam. Inexplicable garden dances were not on our itinerary. Robert, the dancer in question and a long time guest at the beach house, became an integral part of our Kannur experience. He was warding away crows, which had mistaken him for the destroyer of their nests. Every morning, Robert watered the little saplings that he had planted all over the estate, which were unfortunately close to the crows’ nest. Therefore the stick waving. The bushes that he planted, may well flower after he leaves. But so many others, including the crows, will be able to enjoy their blossoms forever.

Have Plantain not Pasta

North Kerala cuisine is a fascinating mix of Portuguese, Arabic and Malayali food. We were already screaming excitedly at every meal, looking at the coconut – curry leaf – jaggery – plantain  based delights. Add to it the fact that everything was locally procured – and I mean really locally, within 1 km radius. The oil was cold pressed from the coconuts in the estate, the greens were just around the house. Our host caught the fish in the lagoon right in front of us – slowed down by our ecstatic shrieks which disturbed the fish. Eating food grown around you makes your tummy and the earth happy.

Legs like the local Mundu

We didn’t see too many people zipping around to malls to buy endless designer clothes, which use hideous amounts of resources and go out of fashion before the season changes. Men seemed happy in their Mundus – and why wouldn’t they. You could roll it up in one elegant sweep if it got too sweaty and unfurl it equally easily if mosquitoes attacked you. The length of the Mundu could also give you a good idea about how the wearer was feeling at the moment. Full length for respect and higher and higher the angrier he got. Give me airy, versatile mundus, preferably made in the local handloom, over a pair of rigid denims anyday.

Kannur has beautiful beaches, one of the oldest forts in the country, a light house, a snake park, a 4000 BC dance form and much much more. But most of all, it has the ability to make you silent, and get a perspective on what is important for you.