The Pongal pots were bubbling away today. On this second day of the annual four-day harvest festival important in Tamil Nadu, women lined up near the water tank in Kothamangalam to prepare the special mixture known as pongal. The word “pongal” refers to boiling or “overflowing”—abundance, prosperity, fertility, the harvest. The women tossed soaked rice and moong lentils into the pot bubbling with milk and water, then stirred and stirred as it thickened. Each woman had a basket of all the ingredients she would use, including the rice and lentils, milk, jaggery, cardamom, raisins, and cashews. No matter that the mixture spilled over the side of the pot. That was the goal—to overflow as the sun Suriya was brightening the day. This was their thanks to Suriya for the harvest, for their food, for their lives. ... read more

Three guys staring at me from across the road. Nothing that unusual, but there was a certain intensity about it. I had just arrived at the Thattekkad Bird Sanctuary and strolled around a small lake to the main road. The place was blissfully lacking people, except for the three staring at me. I dealt with it the usual way. “Hello!” That’s always an invitation for further interaction. They immediately crossed the street. One said, “Selfie?” Oh gawd, how can I refuse. Such a clever request, and so thoughtfully presented! Something was different about this selfie, though. One man held a small box in his hand as they took several photos. “What’s that?” “Ayurvedic face cream.” So I was going to be in their advertising for the face cream and soap they were selling? I could see ... read more

Fort Cochin in Kerala is an anomaly, a relief with its relative tranquility and yawning pace. Shady streets, Ayurvedic treatment centers everywhere, homestays, and hole-in-the-wall restaurants abound. Huge Chinese fishing nets are anchored along the shore. At least four men work the heavy stone ballast and raise the net, sometimes wiggling with a big fish. When the men aren’t moving the net, they call to passers-by, hoping to lure them near the contraption to try their hand at raising the load. For a small fee, of course. Caw-caws talk to everyone, they don’t discriminate, and puppies and mama dogs knock on my legs, looking for a friendly handout. A caw-caw is a crow, of course. At 6:30 am, dozens of people are trying out their walking shoes, playing badminton, stretching, lifting weights in a makeshift gym ... read more

I knew I’d find a pleasant walking route. After all, I came here for rice paddies and quiet, a slower pace of life, less traffic, friendly people. I’m finding most of that, here on the outskirts of the bigger city named Chalakudi. Across the main road from where I’m staying, a side road skirts agricultural fields and plunges into coconut palms, jackfruit trees, and a host of other trees useful for shade and medicinal purposes. Houses and their concrete enclosure walls line the road. Most are freshly painted with bright colors—shocking pink, lemony yellow, lime green. There’s a reason for the fresh paint. This area was one of the worst hit in Kerala during the devastating floods in August of this year. After heavy rains, the government opened all the dams to prevent their failure, inundating ... read more

Mary told me she met the palm reader when he was doing some masonry work for her. He told her he had read all the Sherlock Holmes stories, translated into Malayalam. He said he knew palmistry, numerology, and Reiki. She was very intrigued, and he did a short reading for her. Hence on her accommodation listing she mentioned the opportunity to see the palm reader. I had forgotten he was coming that afternoon. I was very weary after an Ayurvedic treatment, and was just settling down for a snooze on my bed. The doorbell rang, and I thought, oh nuts, who is that? Biji, my surrogate mom-chef from next door was standing there. “Palm reader,” she said. And there he/they were, a short palm reader man and a towering man named Mr. Smart, wearing a lilac ... read more