Beach Files

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Up early Saturday and caught the 8.05 train out of Alleppey for the two hour run to Kollam. Dozing happily, Bruce Springsteen was riding the range with his Blood Brothers in my earphones, when a prod jerked me out of my reverie. “Hello hello, what is your good name please and where are you coming from?” Mr S Lachhman Sinh Brar, I subsequently learned, was a teacher from the Punjab and he was on a Sunday train journey to Trivandrum with a group of his students. He introduced them all one by one, boys and girls (the girls were too shy to be photographed) all14-15 years old. He lamented the fact that jobs in India were hard to come by for his students unless they progressed well and managed to secure a good degree in the sciences (medicine, engineering etc) which was their only way out. I was aware of the problem and told him that I sympathized. “My students are good boys and girls”, he told me with an amiable wobble of the head, “but their English, ah is not so good.” I had found before that, given the opportunity, many Indians would try to engage me in conversation not least to practice their English. For the next two hours I was asked an endless stream of questions. From the girls: “Are you married?”, “What is your girlfriend like, is she fat or thin, or just right?’ they giggled. From the boys, “Do you prefer Freddie Flintoff or David Beckham?” etc etc. The obligatory photos were taken and I alighted at Kollam amid waves and goodbyes. The difference again struck me between these happy, polite teenagers, bright and desperate to succeed and their counterparts in England, many of whom took so much for granted and at the same time threw so much away.
I was heading for Varkala, a temple town on the coast. A bus from Kollam, after an hour, dropped me off at the roadside 15km from town. My guidebook said there was a beach 2 km out of Varkala town that had a few guesthouses on the cliff top. I did a deal with one of the rapacious rickshaw men and within half and hour I was sat looking out over the ocean. I found a place amid the coconut palms and decided to crash here for a couple of days. There were a few westerners about, mainly couples, but with no drink culture (read no package tours) the place remains relatively quiet and unspoiled. Not much here, just a few cliff top restaurants, and a nice beach lapped by the Arabian Sea. You don’t need much more.
Booked my train for tomorrow (Wed) for Kanyakumari, (the southernmost point in the subcontinent), the tip of India. It’s a holy place, a pilgrimage for Hindus from all over Asia, where Gandhi himself meditated. I shall look forward to that. See you soon…

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Photos

Alleppy Rail Station Sunday AM
Yep Sunday Morning 7.15. Never been known..

Mr Singh and some his students
I'm the one without the turban...