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Ruth Cowen floats through
the palm-fringed freshwater byways of Kerala in Southern India,
in search of a glass of chilled coconut milk and an ancient
dance ritual.
 Loading
up our rice boat was obviously going to be a lengthy affair.
The local porters at Kollam tussled over our bags, passing
them one by one on to the boat. This was to be our floating
home for the next five days as we made our way along some
of the 1700km of natural and man made canals which make up
the backwaters of Kerala in Southern India.
Our captain, Justin gave me the
low-down. "The backwaters of Kerala are among the biggest
in Asia and the people who come to visit are very interested
in seeing what life is like by the water. In the small canals,
the way of life hasn't changed for centuries. In fact some
villages are still only  accessible
by water and so children go to school, or people go to the
shops to get their groceries by boat in the same way that
we would go by car or a motorcycle".
We made stops at villages along
the way and always attracted attention, particularly from
the children, who seemed to think that we'd dropped from another
planet. On one occasion though, I decided to hop ashore and
make my way through the drummers in search of an ancient Keralan
art form, which is part dance and part story telling.
Kathakali actor, Sanjit Perrera
told me, "To be a good at Kathakali, the dancer's face should
be round and his hands and every part of his body should be
beautiful".
When I finally managed to track
down a performance of Kathakali, I have to say it was the
most extraordinary thing I had ever seen in my life. All the
dancers and singers were men and looked  absolutely
astonishing. They had brightly coloured faces, made up in
green, blue, yellow and pink and they had to act out every
single word of a story with a strange combination of gesture,
body language and facial expression.
Kalaman Batisuderam is a master
teacher of Kathakali.
"I started learning Kathakali
when I was just 12 years old. To get to just an average standard,
a performer must study for 8 years in which it must become
their life and their devotion 24 hours a day".
There's something about Kathakali
that seems to suit Kerala's  backwaters,
perhaps itıs the stubborn adherence to ancient rituals and
rhythms and its resistance to change. It hasn't altered in
any detail for hundreds of years. It demands your concentration
and it certainly deserves it.
Back at Kovalam we jumped off
the boat and on to the beach. This was the most wonderful
place to end our journey. The waves crashed below us, it was
a gorgeous sunny day and the waters were crystal clear. The
fishermen pulled in their catch and continued to sing.
"That's beautiful," I schmoozed
to one singing fisherman, "and what do the words of that song
mean?" "They mean I am loving one girl," he replied. "I hope
that one girl is your wife?" I asked. He just smiled, and
patted his heart.
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