KAIPUZHA – Part 2

Joseph (Uppachan) Pathyil, Canada

Another day: Let us sit on the western verandah of the house and behold the dark clouds forming on the horizon. Nature is about to unleash its fury. The fields are inundated; the coconut trees in the distance seem hardly able to keep their heads above water. Some of the bunds are under water. Waves batter the land. The distant roar presages the impending downpour. Monsoon in all its fury is unleashed on the land. And suddenly the heavens open. Cascade runs down the roof. Children cannot be contained in the house. They rush out nearly naked, stand under the down- pour from the roof, and laugh heartily, as buckets of clear cool water tumble over them. They fight to get the best position to enjoy the most water. They run around, splashing water from the land, and then dare to jump into the flooding fields, to test the fury of the waves. They are children of the water and know how far they can go. They will play in the water, but close to shore. They will not take their canoes out into the deep, nor will they swim far from the shore. They will dive into the water from the stone boulder at the water’s edge, and instantly swim back up on land. Having tested the might of the elements, they will get back home, to the relief of their mother. They will saunter out again at night to catch fish by torch light from the shallow water on land. They will bring still more fish, to the joyous exclamations of the men, and the consternation of the women-folks who must clean and cook.

They have learned to live in tune with nature, never to challenge it, and always to be cautious. They know of mishaps, drownings, capsized canoes, bloated corpses floating in the water, and disasters that befall those who are careless. But they also know that floods too can be fun .

Soon it is time for the boat races. Everyone with big and small canoes prepare for the big boat races in Kottayam and Alappuzha. Occasionally races are also held as part of the festivities of the local churches and schools. People - young and old - argue about the vallam kali, and which boat will win, and where. And families prepare to go to Kottayam to watch the races. Children ply their canoes as if in preparation for the races, or in imitation of the best boats.

A few weeks later: The floods have receded. The land is dry. The bunds are visible. The ploughers are busy ploughing in the shallow water. Giant motors pump out the water from the fields into the canal systems. Young amateur fishermen are everywhere with their nets catching the abundant fish from the channels. Soon the sowers will cast the paddy seeds on to the wet fields. A few days hence, hundreds of workers are bent over the fields, transplanting the seedlings, and weeding . The farmers are busy, fertilizing, pumping excess water, strengthening the bunds, discussing the cost of cultivation and the perils to the crops, and always anxious, always vigilant. A flash flood, or unexpected rain could ruin the crops, or the bunds may burst and inundate the fields. That too happens every few years. But, undaunted, the farmers will pump the water out, reseed the fields, and cultivate again. Or write the year off. Destiny, fate, the inevitable, are forces that they will accept with equanimity.