I’d been shuttling between my room and kitchen since 9 a.m. on that sunny May morning; oversleeping had resulted in a half-hearted gym session against the burning sun, I was on a futile attempt to be conscious of calories as I gobbled up a banana, balancing a dosa pan and heating up the left-overs to pack lunch to take to work. The driver’s arrival at my doorstep is as unpredictable as the Indian monsoon; I waited impatiently trying not to doze off. I’m the archetypically chaotic bangalorean during mornings, who gets jumpy during every phone interruption that could result in hindering my schedule.
When I got a phone call from, “The Pollachi Papyrus”, requesting me to write for their upcoming issue, the gesture gently pushed my mind back to a place that I had left behind, to years of tranquility and blissful innocence. My usual answer is “no” to such conversations, owing to a couple of preposterous reasons. I did not even think of declining, this time, though. Having lived outside home since 2008, in a humble endeavor to reconnect with my roots, I write this.
The heart of Pollachi could be covered easily in less than a couple of hours. Traffic blockades never really last more than ten minutes; the weather has always been as glorious as that of hill stations, sans the ill-effects of pollution. Lush coconut groves line up the roadsides, the tender coconut here is perhaps the finest in the entire nation, so very popular that the famous lyricist, Kaviperarusu Vairamuthu even penned a popular song describing the female protagonist to be as enchanting as the beverage itself. An extensive part of the population is agriculture-savvy, possessing deep knowledge of the nuances of farming.
I almost never buy ilaneer (Tender coconut) in Bangalore, courtesy the sky-high standards set by Pollachi farms. The greenery, perennial water resources, healthy looking cattle depict quite a sight for sore eyes, attenuated owing to the effect of concrete jungles.
The town is truly a farmer’s paradise flanked by the Ghats section of Valparai, Azhiyar, Sethumadai, Topslip and the like. Elephants destroying crops is a common phenomenon in the adjoining hills, as the town strives constantly to achieve co-existence of man and the wild in harmony.
I’d visit a boutique or grocery store in Pollachi, without really thinking about the cash I have at hand. The town in itself is like a family; with everyone knowing everybody, some even remember family vehicle registration numbers by heart. Relationships are given utmost significance; monetary goals almost cease to be a part of the picture. Pesticide-free fruits and vegetable stocks are constantly exchanged amongst families, paving the way to holistic living. The organic produce, millets, grains, are essential needs that I struggle to get hold of, in an expeditious city like Bangalore. I sheepishly admit that I have no clue of who my neighbours are in Bangalore, despite living in a serene gated community that brims with activity. The folks back home entrust the neighbours with keys and personal belongings while going away on long vacations. I dare not drive rash, because I’d always be quite sure that at least one of the onlookers would sneak about it to the people at home 😉
I was taught swimming in a farm well, with its depth spanning over 80 feet. Pet dogs splashed along with the kids in the water; the confidence that the exercise gives is only subordinate to the experience that the mighty ocean beckons us towards. The city apartment pool- though inviting and clean, can never be chlorine-free and as fulfilling as the childhood learning sessions. I can only visualize the reflection of the coconut trees in the pools in Bangalore, as I gaze at the still waters. The cuisine of Pollachi is a cordial marriage between Kongu Nadu delicacies and the striking fare that Kerala has to offer, thanks to the geographical position between both the states. Coconut is an inevitable ingredient in every household. A substantial part of the population hailing from the land of Mahabali, Pollachi has always been gracious in its approach towards a fusion of culture, traditions, languages, food habits and happens to be an epitome of goodwill.
Only after stepping out, do I realize the worth of tourism that embraces Pollachi. I have several colleagues here in Bangalore, raring to visit, excited and dreamy. Indian cinema has always cherished the town’s picturesque locales and has bolstered a clean image among my city peers that has helped me introduce my lovely town to them, with much less effort. From Guru to Barfi, the film makers who come here, continue to be enraptured.
Though I live and work out of Bangalore, part of my soul will always reside there, fluttering between the jungle geranium flowers and palm trees, in the pursuit towards much needed sanity.
