About Alleppey, The Venice of the East

Several days back when I was sitting in the lawn of my Home, simply watching the clouds at sky, abruptly a thought dashed through my mind about Alappuzha in Kerala, South India, (the present Alleppey), where I born, known as the Venice of the East because of its network of canals, waterways, and backwaters, because of its gondolas, boats, and barges, although crowded, has a terrific charm. I started to recollect my first visit to Alleppey at the age of 18 years. As I walked towards the boat Jetty, the polluted canal greeted me. The opulent houseboats in blackish water seemed repelling. From Alappuzha I chose ThanneerMukkham bund as my destination. and boarded a boat that ferried to different islets. Within minutes it filled with passengers of every hue— ordinary people who went about the business of their daily lives, youngsters bent on adventure, and backpackers who easily got into vantage positions. As the boat chug-chugged, the shores receded, the waterway widened and expanded. The color of the water changed from black to green and in the distance blue waves promised peace. Slowly the feel of the sea enveloped; people sat silent, overwhelmed. The rippling waters sent waves of laughter, glistening in the sunlight. The sea breeze played its music, loud and strong. The youngsters sat subdued, all their bubbling enthusiasm kept at bay. Clouds hovered in the horizon. Small islets of farmland loomed like emerald gems. Half-naked urchins fishing in their small boats were part of the seascape. Time and tide rambled as the moving waters rocked the boat... Then it ambled from wide expanse to lonely greens. Country boats, which carried drinking water in cans and other foodstuffs in boxes, were on their business trips. Farmhands stood up with their food packets and water cans, ready to disembark. This is the only place in the world where paddy is cultivated under sea level. They harness rainwater for farming. And excess water from the farm is pumped out into the backwaters. The boat neared the ferry. Some of the passengers got down; none got in; the bells clanked. The boat moved on from islet to islet. People got in and got out. Slowly, its narrow path widened. Speedboats whisked past. Country boats labored along with their cargo. They still give these waters its old world charm. Some of them hoisted their sails to take advantage of a favorable wind. Once upon a time these waters were the only means of transport in this area. Houseboats loiter, taking all the time in the world. Perhaps the rich has to pay dearly for the luxury of free time in these houseboats to cope with their busy life. And the sea is home to all, a force like God. Although apparent inequities co-exist, the sea gives what each one seeks. Thanneermukham, Water-Face, is something unique. The bund regulates the flow of water. It blocks seawater from getting into the backwaters . During the rainy season, sweet water that sweeps the land, flows into the sea through these backwaters. But after the rains, when rivulets dry up, seawater flows back, during a high tide. This phenomenon creates water problems for those who live here surrounded by waters! The bund looks like a dam and vehicles flow as if it were a fly-over. The crew of the boat is the best people to give information. Some young men from the neighboring states gathered around. Then the backpackers followed, as they understood many English words used by us. Very soon we found ourselves to be a group with one aim: bent on following a water trail on an economy package. The crew helped us to hire a boat that carried some 30 people, paying Rs. 150 an hour. And here we go cruising— in our own boat, at our own time, the way we want, for a very cheap price. The boys hoot; the white men beam; I feel free, free like a bird. We move up and down; climb to the top. The dirty canals are no more for us. The widening waters our home; the surfing ripples our friends; the cascading winds our singers. The blue sky is our dome and we breathe the golden sunshine. This is a world that lives in our dream and we are the sole inhabitants of this wonderland. We circle the islet of Kumarakam now. The resorts, meant for the rich, and the houseboats that pamper the wealthy are forbidden places for us. But who bothers when so much and so precious of ... what is so indefinable, is being lavished upon us. And we sing our souls to dream endlessly, rocked by waves and winds. The afternoon mellows amid an archipelago of green islets. We move around a tiny isle, Pathira Manal, the Sands of Midnight. A night here, where there are no resorts, will be an ethereal experience— a midnight silvered by the full moon, or a midnight of no-moon, the inky black sky ablaze with stardust whence the Milky Way flows down to the Earth, or a midnight of thunder and tempest. My watch showed that we were in waters for almost five hours. It is possible to go to Kollam? Some even venture beyond the placid backwaters into the turbulent sea trying to reach the cape of the subcontinent. But boating in the nights is not allowed as fishermen cast their nets, during night. So we alight at Kottayam for night-stay.