Kochi Kulture

We now have less than 4 days remaining in Fort Cochin. On the 1st of Febuary we have tickets for the 8am train from Ernakulum to Kozhikode. From there we will take a bus up to Sultanbatheri, a town on the edge of Wayanad Wildlife Sanctuary. Apart from being renowned for it’s spectacular beauty Wayanad also provides a good chance of seeing wild Elephant and a very slim chance of seeing a Tiger. We hope to spend a couple of days up there so finger crossed.

Fort Cochin really has been the perfect place to decompress. From what I have previously seen, heard and read about India Cochin and Kerala are not the usual fare, we expect much more hassle as we head north. Here however, even the limited hassle we do get is done in good sport and with a smile.

So what’s the story here, will the real Cochin please stand up. First up, we weren’t the first here, not even close. The first tourists came as long ago as 1000BC and may well have been the Chinese, who promptly swapped their cantilever fishing nets (see earlier photos) for some Elephant tusks and a sackful of curry powder. They perhaps exchanged knowing glances in the streets with Arabs and Romans, I guess the Lonely Planet Guide back then was less comprehensive than it is today so I imagine they probably shared tips on where to get the best deals on crafts and curios and how much they should pay for a Tuk Tuk to Mattancherry.

Given we are about to embark on a journey along the Silk Road it seems fitting that we have started here, at a staging post on perhaps the first route that Chinese ideas and knowledge made there way to the west.

The Europeans, led by Vasco De Gama, rocked up late to the party in 1498. They had put the Chinese fireworks they had bought off the Arab middlemen to good use however and gone and invented muskets and cannons. In true European fashion however, no sooner had they kicked the Arabs out than they started fighting each other. At one time or another the Portuguese, Dutch and British all held sway here and the town of Fort Cochin is a hotch potch of Dutch Palaces and Cemeteries, Portuguese Basilicas and of course perhaps the biggest give away to British influence is the fact that, like the rest of India, they drive on the left side of the road… except when they drive in the middle, or on the right, or at right angles to the rest of the traffic…

Pistols at dawn in those days however was not for control of the evil oil, no, the all consuming vice then was cinnamon sticks… a product worth fighting and dying for, after all, just imagine Apple Crumble without it! In all seriousness however, spices were big money and big money meant big power.

Kerala was spared the worst of the turmoil and horrific bloodshed that accompanied the British departure after World War II as communities in places like Bengal and the Punjab were ripped apart by brutal and widespread sectarian violence that claimed over half a million lives. Whilst other parts of India and Pakistan retain the mutual distrust and even hatred amongst different religions, Kerala seems blessed with blissful tolerance. Hindu’s, Muslim’s, Christian’s, Sikh’s, Jain’s and Jew’s all have places of worship in these parts and live side by side in apparent harmony. A lesson perhaps for others to consider.

The first freely elected communist government in the world came to power here in 1957 and the Che Guevara iconography and hammer and sickle graffiti are testament to it’s continued presence in local politics. The narrower poverty gap here might well be a result of these Marxist ideals and has certainly benefitted from a large and well educated Keralan expat community living and working for good money in the Arab states.

Keralan identity is not just a product of it’s influences however, traditional art forms and philosophies remain and provide undoubtedly the best of the cultural immersion to be had. Two nights ago we returned to the Keralan Kathakali Centre, where we had previously seen the Sitar Tabla (see earlier post). The main event was a Kathakali performance, all be it one dramatically shortened from it’s full 9 hours, to a foreigner friendly 45 minutes. The actual performance was preceded by a Kathakali for beginners briefing where we were given a demonstration of the subtleties of the art. There is no speaking by the actors during performances and all ‘dialogue’ is in the form of complex sign language and exaggerated facial expressions and eye movements that must require spectacular muscle gymnastics to pull off, it is not surprising that training for Kathakali takes 5 years!



Before this we were treated to watching the players put on their makeup, a process that took about 1 hour. This is a mesmerising metamorphosis however as the individual characters are revealed. If what happens on the stage during this time is not enough for you however, endless fun can be had watching the audience whose push and shove cut throat behaviour to secure the best photo vantage points like a paparazzi scrum is only matched by their incompetence behind the lens. I’m not bitter, honest, I just wish that some of them would invest as much time into learning how to use their cameras as they do money into buying the things in the first place. Either that or buy a point and shoot and donate the L series lenses to me instead;-)



Before all of that however is the best part of the night in my opinion, sadly watched by only a fraction of those that turned up for the Kathakali.

Kalarippayat is the local martial art, practiced and kept alive by only a small handful of individuals who are taught by their 60 year old master. In the past it was taught to all teenagers, both girls and boys, to maintain health and fitness, and to provide for defence of the self and defence of the state when required. With moves inspired by animals it combines a series of brutal holds, locks, kicks, punches, jumps and falls; the exploitation of agonising pressure points and a variety of serious weaponry including a vicious 3m long flail that looks like the offspring of a sword and a whip.

The demonstrations are blisteringly fast and we have been forewarned that the weapons are indeed real, any slight mistiming of the choreography and a hospital trip might well be in order. Whilst Yoga is not practised by any of the young adepts showing us their moves, the physical flexibility of it is surprisingly similar in many respects. Being bendy certainly has its advantages when the martial art itself is so raw. No pads or protection here, just hard grit and obvious but well endured pain. Talk about a school of hard knocks, these guys are seriously tough customers and being able to take a kicking seems like a prerequisite.

This little known martial art is however in desperate need of a break to ensure its survival. An endangered species of cultural tradition. Perhaps a Bollywood director, or an enlightened director from the west will chance upon this goldmine of exhilarating entertainment and the next Jet Li or Tony Jaa might well be a Keralan Fisherman by trade.