July 24, 2011
"Sind sie bereit meine liebe" (Are you ready my love?) Hans asked his wife.
"Ja, ihre Halcyon ist ready to fly" (Yes, your Halcyon is ready to fly), said Suggi.
Hans and Suggi were all set with the travel bags. They were ready to fly to India from Germany. The drive to the airport would take them hardly 10 minutes.
When the airhostess announced the arrival of the Lufthansa Airlines flight landing in Bombay Airport, Hans nudged his wife gently and lifted her resting head from his shoulders.
From there it was going to be a long journey. The Indian airlines flight would take them to Goa and then from there it was a four hour journey by taxi to their destination, Ankola in Uttar Kannada.
The moment Suggi sat in the taxi again she settled down to another nap. "Kumbakarna’s family" Hans smiled. He thought to himself ‘Strange that I am already accustomed to the myths of this land. As the taxi sped by the forests and coastal inlets reminisces.
*************
His tryst with India had begun last year. Born in Hannover, Germany, Hans, an architecture professor in Leibniz University in Hanover, had decided on India for his vacation. The main reason being the varied architectural wonders that different cultures had stamped on the hospitable land in addition to its own. The other was the eternal beckoning of the mysteriously exotic promises India spread before him. High mountains, wide seas, broad deserts and deep forests.
It was also an act of escapism from the recent break up in his relationship with his long time girlfriend Lea who had sprung the surprise on him by announcing Lucas, his colleague as her fiancée. Believing that the ultimate happiness is found in this ancient land which wrote prescriptions to every malady whether physical mental or spiritual within a week he was on flight bound to Delhi.
Beginning with northern parts in search of peace in its nooks and corners or ‘that something’ people said was found in India, the land of medicines and Kamasutra. Arriving amply nourished, after two months now he was lean and sinewy. India never ceased to surprise him like the Indians themselves. The more he spanned across its length and breadth, the more distant India was getting. Just when he conceded with the idea that India was a land of tigers and elephants, snake charmers and firewalkers, Sadhoos and recluses, he was baffled by the stylish sethanis escorted out of their chauffeured BMWs in finery that made some royalty back home fizzle out in the background.
By the time the affluent and highly progressive India fascinated him, next moment next moment he was staring into the black eyes of the largest slum in Asia as his flight landed in Santa Cruz, Bombay. His pity turned into surprise again when he had to crane his neck to look at the sky scrapers. Colourful and plain, modern and traditional, progressive and ancient, flamboyant and simple, dishonest and honest people all lived next to each other.
He was ready to be surprised every day.
Temples, Cathedrals, mosques, and historical places or guides adding their own history to monuments, food ranging from the blandest to the bombed chilies served at dusty roadside dhobis to exquisitely garnished plates in five star hotels, yellow faced women with turmeric paste all over their faces, fortune tellers with ash covered bodies marked with red and vermilion lines, strange behavior of people spitting blood like sputum (paan) everywhere or the clean shaven heads at most religious places. As for the varied costumes he had given up the idea of fathoming where the ends of the clothes disappeared or from where they reappeared. Happily surprised throughout his journey he skirted down the coasts in the east and south east rounding up after Pondicherry and cape Comorian (Kanyakumari), and through Kerala journeying towards north Karnataka.
The typical tourist, saffron clad Hans stepped down the rickety bus at Gokarn. The cloth tied around his lean waist and the other over his tanned shoulders had ‘he ram’ printed on them. He took out the worn out map from a cotton satchel, had a quick glance, put it back and walked through the narrow road to a lodging near the Mahabaleshwar temple closer to the sea. Leaving his belongings there, he walked towards the sea.
His blue eyes spanned the horizon. The azure emerald waters spread across the horizon, the waves rising in futile efforts to meet the unattainable sky. The stretch of white sand was pristine and clear only to get lost into the thickets of the casuarinas groves that guarded the sea and the sands. In the afternoon heat there was no other soul except him. In the distance he could see the tall rugged rocks rising from the sea crushing the waves rushing to meet the shores. A lone bird migrating from across the seas in search of warm repose swooped low seemingly lost. Hans feared for its life.
He planned to return later. He turned back to the only hotel that would serve his frugal lunch.
The nameless hotel closer to the beach served a sumptuous serving of rice, a watery red curry and scorching hot fried fish, usually a pompret or a mackerel all in one plate. Blackened rickety benches broad enough to hold the bottom and tables narrow enough to hold a plate was the only furniture it had.
Most people who patronized this joint were local fishermen or small shop owners. Once in a while the hotel owner had the ‘whites’ patronizing their food. The red curry was served in a small dish to foreigners for optional use after one of them almost choked to death. Jagga, knew through experience that some foreigners enjoyed the spicy food as if they were born here in Ankola. This was true with the hippies. The locals could tell the difference between hippies and other tourists this way and by the long hair and see through skirts and pajamas.
Hans looked at the assorted plate with rice, fried fish, and a small portion of vegetable, pickle and a cup of red hot curry with a small piece of fish submerged in it.
Jagga brought a glass of white drink. Hans took a sip of the fizzy drink and he loved it instantly.
Fresh frothy toddy. He had never seen or tasted it before. Sweet and fizzy.
He drank glass after glass.
Only when he was walking down the sea side, he felt the mighty kick of nectar the palm tree had given him!
He fell on the wet sand.
***********
A colorful bird swooped over him. He closed his eyes. Various dark faces melted in front of his eyes scaring him out of his wits. The faces glowed and changed shapes, one more fearful than the others. He tried to run away but felt paralysed. He felt transfixed. Unable to move he reached out his hand, with all his might he called out to his mother. "Mutter".
He heard her.
Her voice, the smooth voice of her stories.
Stories of distant shores, of mythic beasts, and of beautiful birds.
Of birds who sang people into trances. Of birds carrying princes on their backs over wealthy kingdoms to their lovers.
A halcyon swooped over the images dispelling them. A bird of paradise. It’s feathers , bright and sparkling with innumerable colours sparkled against the sun shading him from its harshness.
A calm came over him. The halcyon dipped its wings in the waves and sprinkled water over him with its feathers. The bird now transformed into a woman.
He woke up with a start.
Hans opened his eyes. He blinked once, closed his eyes tight and opened his eyes. The apparition was a strange one. He shook his head vigorously.
No, it was a woman.
When Hans opened his eyes he saw the form of a woman getting clearer and looked straight into a pair of surprised koeled eyes. The naked suntanned shoulder blades held a pendulous bun of hair secured with clips of assorted colours. Hans too had not seen a woman of this type. The five yard cloth was tied around her and the loose ends of one side tied around her neck as a halter. Several strings of colourfully beaded chains covered her chest in synchronized thickness. Pressed with the burden of the beads and the sari, her youthful chest heaved. She was dressed as if for a wedding. She had decorated herself with silver and copper ornaments. At once voluptuous, at once innocent, at once graceful while robust, at once modern, and at once primeval. He looked into her eyes stunned. The transition from the halcyon to a woman was instant.
‘Hi’ he said.
Suggi smiled at him. She was a girl from the local halakki community. She had found him unconscious on the shore when she had gone to wash her feet in the waves after picking wood from the nearby casuarinas grove. She had scooped some water from the waves and sprinkled it on him brining him to consciousness.
"Me from Hannover Germany".
‘Honnavar' made sense to her. It was another town, an hour away by bus.
"Können Sie mir behilflich sein?"(Can you help me?) Hans smiled.
His brain hurt. ‘Help’ he said holding his head.
All she could reply was with the nodding of her head. He looked a tad disappointed. The gesture of ‘yes’ to him was ‘no’ in his culture!
He tried again.
Sprechen Sie Englisch? (Do you speak English?")
He knew he was not getting anywhere with her.
Thankfully crowd was gathering.
"Can anyone here speak English? Oh god."
Haridas Kamat, a grocery owner was one of them. He said "yes".
"That’s good". Hans told him what happened and he needed help to reach his lodgings.
Once settled in the lodgings all thoughts were replaced only by the colourful vision of the dark beauty, Suggi. She had a strange calming effect on her like the Halcyon from his dreams. He seemed to have found elixir to all his maladies in this tribal apparition.
The events of the next few days also seemed to be a dream for Hans.
Every evening he waited along with his friend Haridas at the beach.
Haridas was the translator on all meetings.
Next they met Suggi’s father. He called meetings and after consultations and deliberations with the tribal head he gave his consent. For the villagers and the townspeople this was a strange liaison. Stranger than the mythical stories they sang during the nights of their harvest festivals.
By the end of the second week, Hans was standing with Haridas Kamat offering the ‘Tara’ (the bride price) to Suggi’s father.
The drums beat to the echoes of "Tane tandhanane taano, ……" in the night while Hans sat looking at his bride. Colourful as ever. His eternal bride. His Halcyon.
****************
The familiar sights of Ankola brought him back the euphoric feelings of last year. He woke up his wife as the taxi reached the hedge surrounding their hut.
****************
In the evening Hans and Suggi sat savoring the evening sky with the sun setting in the west. The blush of the sky permeating from line to line of the horizon. The waves with the molten gold rushed to wash their feet. In the distance the waves kissed the rocks now and again. The pristine sands stretched into the distance. Hans saw a lonely bird flying over the setting sun.
He knew it would find its destination.
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