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Caption: A Vembanad Weekend

A Vembanad Weekend – Part 5

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Though it wasn’t exactly an elusive, suited-up Bond and his girl steering their luxury yacht to a lakeshore in Venice backed by some chic sax music, our welcome was adorned with the native greatness of a mellifluous live flute, and refreshing serves of elaneer, and a fresh flower to each of us. Apart from the flautist who had his lips puckered over the flute gracing us with a warm welcome melody, the rest of the reception team were waiting in the namaskaram posture beaming with smiles as our boat sputtered and stopped at the…

A Vembanad Weekend – Part 4

Half an hour into the drive, we were still worming through a clutter of fuming vehicles at a toll plaza on the state highway just within 5 km from the airport. Wet roads indicated it had rained lately and the driver made sure the car got an earthy makeover as he had to plunge it into big puddles to circumvent his raging competitors. Weather had vastly changed too. The sun had come out and I started sweating as though I saw an end-semester question paper cramped with those little boxes and instructions in the footer reading, “Answer within the…

A Vembanad Weekend – Part 3

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At first, the helper gazed at us without a blink. I thought he was in the state of mind receiving messages from his higher self; much like a sage who sleeps with his eyes open; a sleep so profound that any question from a visitor could be answered with a silent gaze and a plastered smile. As they say, “You are only a disciple because your eyes are closed”. Since I was the visitor, I prompted him by repeating the question, pointing to the flyer with spiritual curiosity, “Could you get us there?” Full Reel…

A Vembanad Weekend – Part 2

The airstair sounded fragile on each step as do those wobbly spiral staircases you’d find nestled in the dark corners of shady shoe stores. Unlike a large carrier in which a courtly hostess wearing passion-red lipstick would greet and point to your seat, this one had the do-it-yourself motif. A lean isle with 2×2 arrangements reminded me of town buses; the only difference being there’s no need of muscle or a wet towel to grab a seat. However, we had to walk inch by inch courtesy of the early birds shoving their luggage…

A Vembanad Weekend – Part 1

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