Oristano, Sicily: First Day of the New York Writers Workshop

Friday, August 14, 2026

Oristano, Sicily

First Day of the New York Writers Workshop

I woke up inordinately early in my hotel as I am on Bombay time. Hence by 5.00 am, I was up and blogging—an endeavor that kept me busy for at least a whole hour as I had so much to blog about our nightmarish ordeal of the journey to this spot yesterday. Still, I am not tired. I have what seems like a cold and taking the medication I bought from the pharmacy yesterday certainly did help. I slept soundly, if for too short a time.

Them, with daylight breaking outside, it was time to go to downstairs for breakfast—service begins at 7.00am. I got dressed in the clothing Emma Sweeney had lent me last night and made my way downstairs to the restaurant. The breakfast is generous—indeed quite magnificent. There is a variety of cold and hot stuff: Italian breads and breakfast pastries plus a bunch of cakes (which Italians seem to eat in the morning), cereals (muesli and cornflakes with flavored yogurts), bread that you can toast and make sandwiches with, smoked ham and provolone cheese, a variety of croissants and brioche and pain au chocolate, plus hot options such as scrambled eggs and bacon with tomatoes and the wafer-thin, crispy bread called curacau, a specialty of Sardinia. There is tinned and stewed and fresh fruit too. You could stay here for a week and eat a different breakfast each day. For this, my first breakfast here, I chose grapefruit juice (a bit too tart for my liking), muesli which I ate with cherry yogurt, scrambled eggs and bacon with curasau and a hot chocolate. I also took a herb-sesame croissant with some ham and cheese and made myself a sandwich to eat at lunch time. I am entitled (with this room) to two breakfasts—so I have told my colleague Ifeona (who gets no breakfast) that she can come and eat at my hotel. She is only too pleased to do so.

Breakfast done, I ran into Emma who told me that we began today at 10.00, not 9.00 am as I had thought. As I was getting no internet connection in my room, I sat close to Reception, hoping to pick up a stronger wifi signal—but no dice! There seems to be a hardware issue with my laptop. I am urgently now in need of a new one. I sat downstairs and when I saw that there was no signal, I left my backpack at Reception and walked across the street to the huge supermarket called SPAR, where I browsed around to my heart’s content for half an hour. There was such a mouth-watering array of foods and drink (and Italian being my favorite cuisine, I saw a huge bunch of items I could buy (I would do so later in the day).

Then, as planned, I returned to the hotel, met Emma there and the two of us walked together to the Delada Instituto to be in time for our first 10.00 am session of the day. Ravi held the fort as he spoke about The Hermit Crab Essay, telling us about the wisdom of using non-literary forms of writing for inspiration in our own Creative Writing. I enjoyed the session which was short and sweet. We were then left with about two hours to ourselves and while most folks, finding it already too hot, returned to their hotels, I decided to explore the adjoining Bishop’s Garden which is attached to our own property. And what a fab place it turned out to me! But the gates were locked and, luckily, I ran into Alberto, one of the personnel here. He opened them for me and I was able to wander inside and find a glorious spot in the fruit orchard. And so there, surrounded by falling lemons, limes, orange and quince tress, with a rose garden in bloom around me, olive trees lending shade and the architectural grandeur of the outlines of the Duomo of Sancta Maria Assumpta right in front of me, I found myself a shady glen. It was there that I continued the outline of the work that I hope will become my own personal memoir. I had started the outline in the classroom inside but I lengthened it and then actually decided to start writing the first chapter. Time flew as the tolling bells of the church peeled a musical carillon at exactly 12 noon. Nothing could evoke Italy more sharply for me and I felt as if I had to pinch myself to believe that I am here, having this brilliant opportunity and making the most of it.

At 1.00 pm, I stopped to eat my croissant sandwich lunch and enjoyed it thoroughly. Although it was hot, it was neither unpleasant nor oppressive in the shade and living in Bombay now with its tropical climate, allows me to be much more tolerant of the heat. At 1.00 pm, I went inside into the cool comfort of an air-conditioned classroom. It was time for our Sample Writing critiques and the three faculty members (Ravi, Tim and Emma) did a very competent job in leading the group while other folks added the benefit of their opinions too. I had discovered, by this time, that I could not pick up the internet on my laptop even in this location—a very distinct indication that the hardware on my PC needs repair.

The Critique Session was an enormous success with five pieces reviewed and dissected. All five participants took the criticism well and time flew. We had a few breaks in-between to stretch our legs, use the facilities, etc. Before we knew it, it was 5.00 pm and we closed shop. Almost all of us returned to our respective hotels as our next meeting was at 7.00 pm for our Faculty Readings. En route to my hotel, I stopped at the SPAR and picked up a few things: milk, a wedge of Gorgonzola cheese, a packet of TUCS crackers, and two small pots of Tiramisu. In my hotel, I discovered that my bag had not yet arrived. However, I was able to make myself a hearty snack with the crackers and cheese and a pot of Tiramisu—so delicious! Then, I kept my laptop to charge and returned to the Institute for the 7.00 pm Reading.

All three readers did a grand job but I particularly enjoyed Tim’s account of his troubled relationship with his father which is part of a memoir on which he is working. He is such a wonderful writer. Emma and Ravi followed and it was great hearing them read and explain the context behind their writing. Then, at 8.30 pm, it was time for us to think about dinner.

Tim and Ravi chose a place called Ristorant Panne e Olio and with about ten of us trooping down there, we were sat at a table where we had a hearty meal. I have to admit that I was still too full with my tea-time snack, but I did order a pizza with prosciutto, caramelized onions and gorgonzola cheese. It was very good but there was no way I could eat it all and so I had most of it packed away for me (it will be my dinner tomorrow). Dinner stretched late into the night with several folks ordering red or white wine (which is really cheap here). It was finally after midnight when we got up to leave and with Emma, I walked to our hotel and straight to her room to borrow another change of clothes from her as my bag did not seem to have arrived. It was not in the Reception area although I searched thoroughly. Upstairs, in her room, we found a pair of pants and a top I could use and with these, I returned to my room, two doors down, only to discover—Glory Be!—that my suitcase had arrived and had been deposited in my room. Of course, I returned the items to Emma and then went about doing all the things I needed to do before getting ready for bed. It had been a very long day and so all I did was take my cold medication and go straight to bed.

Until tomorrow, ciao…

CRUISING THE MEDITERRANEAN ISLES (SARDINIA, SICILY AND MALTA: 3, 2026 Journey from Bombay to Oristano, Sicily and Introduction to Participants in the New York Writers Workshop:

CRUISING THE MEDITERRANEAN ISLES

(SARDINIA, SICILY AND MALTA—AUGUST 2026)

Thursday, August 13, 2026

Journey from Bombay to Oristano, Sicily and Introduction to Participants in the New York Writers Workshop:

Buongiorno from Italy! Yes, I am here and ensconced in a lovely hotel in the pretty little town of Oristano on the turquoise blue island of Sardinia. But how did I get here? Well, long story! Very long story! So, let’s get back to the beginning. I was invited to attend a Writer’s Workshop in Sardinia by my friend, Tim Tomlinson of the New York Writers Workshop with which I have been associated for the past 15 odd years. They hold summer writing workshops in various parts of the world and since this year happened to be in Sardinia (a place to which I have never been), I decided to tag along. Hence, I am here.

But, my journey here began late on Wednesday, August 12, 2026, when at 9.30 pm, I took an Uber to leave my flat in Bombay and hot footed it to the international airport where I arrived at 10.10 pm. My Air France flight to Sardinia (via Paris) was scheduled to leave at 1.20 am (on August 13). I cleared Check in (I did check-in my one cabin-sized bag as I did not want to lug it around Paris Charles de Gaulle airport where I had plans to duty free-shop and get a hot chocolate at ‘Laduree’ and an almond croissant at ‘Paul’—ha! Fat chance—but more about that later)! I made my way (after clearing Security and Immigration—all quite painless in Bombay) to my gate (the furthest gate you can imagine—rotten luck!—with my back pack which contained my laptop, my chargers and a few other miscellaneous stuff which made it too heavy for my liking). While at the gate, I read a couple of writing samples submitted by the workshop participants (as I had not had enough time to complete doing this in Bombay).

The flight was comfortable enough—I had a Maharashtrian lady named Monica Pandey from Pune who lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, besides me. She was a chatty techno nerd who does digital financial marketing for a living—she is with FinTech. She was quite charming company throughout although she did manage to sleep a lot (much to my envy). I had a small bottle of white wine and what they called a light snack for dinner (at 3.00 am IST)—it was two veg sandwiches, plain yogurt and chopped fresh fruit (despite a full diner before leaving home, I was hungry). I watched one full movie (Wuthering Heights—the new Emerald Fennel film with Margot Robbie, Jacob Elordi and Martin Clunes). It was very powerful and deeply moving and I loved Fennel’s interpretation of the story which she changed considerably. A Pakistani-British actor (Shafaq Latif) played Lindley Earnshaw, an Oriental woman played Nellie. Definite attempts in the UK to bring ethnicity into the stage and screen are evident. I also began watching 500 Miles with Bill Nighy but I did not finish it. Hopefully, I will be able to finish it on the way back. It’s a quest by two little guys to try to find their grandfather in Ireland on a 500 miles stowaway journey they undertake from Manchester. We did have a full hot breakfast on board (omletee with hash browns, tomato and grilled mushrooms), yogurt, fruit, a bread roll with butter and jam, orange juice and coffee. There was also a bar at both ends of the aircraft where you could help yourself to fruit, cookies, chocolate, cake and a range of beverages. I managed to get up from my seat (as I did not sleep much at all) for a half hour to stretch my legs while sipping a decaff coffee and nibbling tomato-flavored cookies.

We did not fly over Paris upon landing but after we did, the fun began! I had two whole hours to board my connecting flight from Paris to Cagliari, Sardinia. I did not dawdle at the airport but as soon as I got off my flight, I went straight to the Departures board and found that my Gate for my connecting flight was announced—2G. I believe we had landed at 2E (where most long-distance international flights land). And so began my quest to get to 2G! And boy oh boy—what a quest it was! My checked-in bag would go right through to Cagliari, so I was left to struggle with my heavy backpack! We had to walk through long, endless corridors (quite like Bombay international airport) before we arrived in a large Immigration Hall. But following the directions to Correspondances (Transfers), I realized that we were required to by-pass this Hall and move on. And the moving on just never ended!

First of all, we had to board a monorail train that took about 10 minutes to get us to K Portal where 2G passengers were asked to alight. I thought we were doing fine and had already reached our terminal. But no! There were still miles to go… Not too long after, we were in a Border Control line where our passports were examined and stamped (this took time) and then whisked off to a Security area—this was just interminable with hundreds of people converging here and security so tight that you were not allowed to have any water on you or anything of a gel or creamy consistency. This led to many folk leaving the line to throw out their water or get rid of their soft drink boxes or their yogurt (acquired on the aircraft). There was a table where these were deposited and there was one full-time employee merely to put these into huge garbage bags and haul them off in a small van! I was aghast! Anyway, having cleared these two time-consuming hurdles, we were in a huge Mall-like place where you could have shopped to your heart’s content for every conceivable perfume. Yes, ‘Laduree’ was there but I was perplexed because I could only see signs for F terminal. Where had G terminal disappeared to? Finally, resisting the urge to even look at the enticing wares, I asked an Air France hostess passing by where G was and she directed me to a hidden escalator and told me to go down and find a shuttle bus service that would take me to G.

thinking I had adequate time to do this, I followed her instructions, arrived at a smaller hall downstairs where someone was barking out “2G, 2G” and stuffing people into a shuttle bus. I had only standing room there but just when it seemed as if the bus would move, we were all told to get off. Apparently, another bus would arrive in 2 minutes to get us there. Even at this point, I was at ease. How long could it take, right? Well, the 2 minutes stretched to about 10 minutes and 15 minutes later, we were off again in another bus.

And it was in this bus that my panic began. What I assumed would be a 2 minute ride to our terminal turned out to be a See-Paris Route that seemed to encircle the entire Peripherique! It took us no less than 20 minutes (maybe more—I was too panicked to count) and while everyone in the bus was either laughing, fuming or anxiety-ridden at the sheer idiocy of it, we kept zig-zagging our way through every terminal. By this point in time, it was 8.45am and my flight left at 9.25. I knew they closed aircraft doors at 9.00—so I had only 15 minutes to get to my gate. Luckily the Air France ground hostess had told me my gate (G33) so I did not need to waste time (after the bus stopped and I alighted to go up another escalator to another small hall) to find it. Getting there, involved walking along another long and endless corridor to get to G33. People were running, by this time, like wild horses fully convinced that they had missed their flights (as I did too).

And when I did get to the gate, guess what? There was no one there—not even the staff that checks documents. That’s it, I thought, I have missed my flight! I was totally in a tizzy! At the next gate, there were some personnel and so I asked what had happened to the G33 flight. She took a look at her computer and told me that my flight had been delayed!!!! Can you even believe it? She said it was now scheduled to leave at 10.00 am and that the gate would be announced at 9.30am. She advised me to walk back down that long and endless overbridge and get to the main hall where the Departure boards were located! I was wilting, by this time, and filled with confusing emotions: anger at the delay, but relief that I had not missed my flight.

Just as I reached the end of that long walk down the overbridge, who should I see coming along in a wheel-chair but my colleague Ifeona, arriving from NYU-New York, to also participate in the Writers Workshop! We had an affectionate reunion and I gave her the news that our flight was delayed (although the Departure board still said, On Time)!

Well, being back in the Hall gave me the opportunity to ask the Air France desk personnel about my flight—they confirmed the delay. It gave me the chance also to use the loo (I was dying to go) and to look for Cote d’Or chocolate (sadly, they did not have the dark type) and then, suddenly, boarding for my flight was announced again!!! So, it did not leave at 10.00 am but maybe just 15 minutes after the schedule time—so, at 9.45 am. I mean how crazy can it get?!

course, I raced off to the long overbridge and began the endless walk along it, got to my gate, found folks checking our documents there and we did the short walk on the tarmac up the flight of stairs into the aircraft—it all bordered on the primitive! Imagine a crowded, busy international airport putting its passengers through such agony! Later, on board, Ifeona told me that she had requested a wheel-chair only because she had done some research on the internet and had discovered that it took a minimum of 2 hours to change from Terminal 2E to Terminal 2G! She requested the wheel-chair to bypass the lines at Security and Immigration (as there are special lines for the handicapped at these points)! Oh well, at least we made our flight, were together, and chatted and caught up with everything while we were on the 2 hour connecting flight.

The best part of having the window seat is that I use my camera to take pictures of the passing sights. And this morning, after all the stress of boarding this flight, there was the sheer joy of flying right above the city of Paris from which I managed (although we were really very high up, by that point) to get some amazing views of the city. I actually captured the Eiffel Tower, the Arch of La Defence, the Arc de Triomphe and the Place d’Etoile, as well as the Champs Elysses and the Trocadero. And I very clearly saw (although I did not get a picture), the Ile de St. Louis. Although I just kept clicking, not really knowing what I would capture, I was thrilled later, to discover that I managed to get so many landmarks. If only we were lower when we flew over Paris.

Arrival in Cagliari—More Disappointment:

We saw the outlines of Sardinia for a long while before we landed as we flew right through the backbone of the long island. I could see the incredibly blue Mediterranean Sea below us and it was gorgeous because hugging the pink sand beaches are turquoise waters and just beyond them, the sea is cobalt blue—a definite line of demarcation is visible—no merging of the two distinct colors. The shores were also studded with small white boats. It was all so picturesque and pretty. Then, landing into Cagliari, we had a chance to see the beautiful little capital city—in shades of orche and soft pink.

Once at the airport, Ifeona and I made our way to the Baggage Claim area only to pass by a sign that said, ‘Welcome to Sardinia’ and, of course, I had to take a picture there! Then, waiting and waiting at Baggage Claim with everyone else disappearing quickly, a ground hostess asked us where we had come from—when she discovered that there were many passengers who had boarded their flights in the US or elsewhere, she told the lot of us to follow her! We had to go to another area—we had to clear Immigration (of course)! So, of course, we stood in a Passport Check line and having cleared that, we were moved to another conveyor belt. There I had another shock! Everyone else found their bags but there was no sign of mine! The ground hostess told me that they had stopped depositing them—so I’d have to go and file a claim for a Missing Bag! You could have knocked me down with a feather!

So, yes, I did go through that formality. I was informed that my bag would get to me at the earliest and that it usually took 2 days! Two days! I had nothing but the clothes on my back! Good thing I had my laptop—the heaviest thing in my backpack! So, yes, while I was going through this little dance, Ifeona had herself a lovely Italian coffee (and told me that she finally felt as if she had arrived in Italy). There was no hot chocolate for me anywhere in the airport (although I did get a chicken sandwich at McDee’s as I was hungry for lunch by this point—it was about 12 noon). We had been told that we’d have to wait for our free shuttle taxi service to get us at 1.45 pm—so we had about two hours to wait and wait we did. Apparently, two other passengers, also headed to our Workshop, were supposed to join us. But we saw no sign of anyone else as we sat and chatted and waited and Ifeona began to wilt too.

Sign of A Taxi-Shuttle—so Off We Go On the Train!

And at 1.45pm as instructed, we stood at the Arrivals area waiting for our shuttle! But, long story short, there was no sign of Andrea who was supposed to pick us up. We were lucky we had airport wifi, so we managed to contact the driver. He told us that he had no knowledge of any pick up from the Elmas Airport at Cagliari at 1.45 pm and that he would arrive there at 3.30 pm to take us to Oristano! Ifeona and I decided to take the train to Oristano instead as our friends at the Workshop had given us clear instructions on how to get to the train station. I must also say, at this point, that when we left the airport and walked out into the world, it was hot, hot, hot. Blazing Hot!!! The sun was simply merciless and the air was dry as a crust!

The walk to the train station began. We informed our friends in Oristano that we’d be taking the train. We cancelled the shuttle with Andrea who sent us a thumbs up to confirm that he knew he would not be needed! The sun (as I mentioned) was hot, Ifeona had three bags—one heavy huge one, one a smaller cabin-size one and a backpack! She struggled to get them through to the long ramps up to the train platform as we had used the machines to buy tickets—they did not take my credit card (only cash). So Ifeona paid for me and I reimbursed her later!

And then we were up another ramp to the platform (Binario 2) where we had at least another hour’s wait for our train to Oristano. And that’s when a young girl sitting besides us asked if she could help us as she realized how confused and tired we were! Turned out, we did not have to wait for an hour—a train to Oristano was due in about 20 minutes! Hallelujah! So, yes, we did get that train and while on it, contacted Tim to find out if Andrea could await us at Oristano train station in an hour! Well, that’s when we discovered that Lorenzo was waiting for us at the airport!!!! We were told to go back to the airport and jump into his taxi! Of course, we were doing no such thing as our train to Oristano was already rolling along! Such an ordeal! In the train (we had 3 stops), Ifeona dozed away as she simply could not keep her eyes open. I was bright as a button (as it was the middle of the day in India and I was far from sleepy).

Well, we finally did get to Oristano, an hour later, and then again there was no sign of Andrea. Outside, the building, far beyond the car park, a man was waiting and talking on a phone. I began to suspect, he was Andrea. So I left Ifeona with her three bags and went up to ask him if he was Andrea! And he was! And a few minutes later, we were in his taxi and he did not even give us a hand with our bags!!!! What a jerk! Then, he took ten minutes to find out where we were going after each of us had shown him the address of our hotel three times! It really was horrific! Anyway, we were soon on our way and about ten minutes later, he deposited me at my hotel (Mistral 2) and took Ifeona forward to her’s (La Terrazza)! And with that, I checked in, was given basic toiletries by the front desk and made my way to my room—which was Okay (comfortable bed, soft pillows, clean bathroom and shower—what more could one want)? The hotel gave me a kettle—so I was able to heat water (although there was no coffee machine)! So annoying! Anyway, I just slide under the covers expecting to take a short nap and setting my alarm to wake up after two hours. We had an Introductory session followed by a Reception and I did not want to miss it. So, off to sleep I went!

Only I barely slept for half an hour (the equivalent of my afternoon nap) before I awoke, wide awake. I had enough time to have a shower and wear the same clothes and following Tim’s instructions, I was on the road, trying to find my way to the Delada Instituto.

Getting to the Delada Instituto and Our First Introductions:

About fifteen minutes later (after I made a detour into the huge SPAR—supermarket—en route and caught sight of a pharmacy (I was beginning to feel the beginnings of a cold), I found my way to my destination along Via Cagliari. There I had a reunion with Tim, my NYU—NY colleague, and Ravi Shankar, who is one of our workshop coordinators and whom I know well. From that point on, we met many of the other participants and began to feel our way around them. Emma Sweeney, my colleague and friend from NYU-London also appeared and we had a lovely reunion too. Ifeona got there about fifteen minutes later. The co-ordinators (Tim, Ravi and Emma) introduced themselves, as did Ciriaco who was our host for the week and Alberto, his right-hand man. And then each of us introduced ourselves and we had a most marvelous evening after we had broken the ice.

The Gathering, hosted by the Instituto, was a lovely wine and Processo party with cheese and cold cuts galore—as only the Italians can served them (paper thin and bursting with flavor). There was also curacao (the famous paper thin, wafer-like bread) that is a culinary specialty in Sardinia. Lots of hearty sour dough bread and other crispbreads of all kinds plus Prosecco, beer and juices made it a very wonderful meal. We were joined by other Instituto personnel and as we also chatted with each other, we learned a lot about our backgrounds—varied--our ages—from grad students to retired professionals-turned-writers, etc. It was a very jolly bunch on this first evening and we had a grand time!

At about 9.00 pm, with darkness having fallen outside, I went up to Emma (who was in my hotel) and told her that I was ready to call it a day as I too had begun to wilt. We both said our goodbyes, excused ourselves and left. The ten minute walk back allowed us also to catch up on our lives (Emma now lives in North Wales, near Chester) and what we are currently both doing. Then, we were close to the pharmacy and I stopped to buy some medication for my scratchy throat and the feeling that I had a cold coming on. The pharmacist took forever to cater to the needs of the person ahead of me (the longest I have ever seen anyone take at a pharmacy) but then it was my turn and after I had shown her my needs (through Google Translate on my phone—thank God for my international Roaming package from Airtel), she prescribed an Over-The-Counter medication containing paracetamol for me and with that, we walked back.

Back in the hotel, I used my kettle to make the water warm and then had a doze. It helped me sleep quite well. And with that, a most harrowing day came to an end.

Until tomorrow…ciao!

Return Flight from Trivandrum to Bombay:

Monday, July 27, 2026

Return Flight from Trivandrum to Bombay:

Our flight from Trivandrum on Air-India was scheduled for 9.30 am. We planned to be at the airport at 7.30 am as we were checking in our bags. With enough time to kill, we were able to buy a few gifts for my Dad (Kerala’s famous black halwa) and for my brother Russel (a box of milk pedas) before we went in search of a cup of filter coffee as we were expected to be served breakfast on board.

Time passed quickly and boarding was soon announced. We had a very smooth flight and very good service on board and a substantial breakfast of an omlette with a chicken sausage, grilled tomatoes and fries and a coffee. While everything was piping hot, nothing was really tasty…but I suppose it filled us up for the rest of our flight. I really did enjoy my window seat which gave me an uninhibited view throughout of the West coast of India—I realized how much of it is actually covered by sandy beaches, not many of which are even remotely developed.

We touched down on schedule at 9.30 am, arriving at the international airport from where we took an Uber car to get us back to our flat. We were home by 11.45 am and boy, how good it felt to enter our own home again.

Thanks for following me on this trip through Kerala—a rather strange combination of spiritualism and tourism; but one that was interesting in both parts. Until I blog again, about my next trip, may the road rise up to meet you…

Scouring Kerala’s Capital City of Trivandrum—A Medley of Museums:

Sunday, July 26, 2026

Scouring Kerala’s Capital City of Trivandrum—A Medley of Museums:

We awoke once again, after a very good night’s sleep in Rama’s Garden Hotel, showered, dressed and went down for breakfast. Both of us had the Western Breakfast (omlettes with buttered toast and jam, coffee or tea and fresh fruit—bananas and papaya). Nothing about this hotel was displeasing. We enjoyed every aspect of it, not least the excellent service we received from the staff. We decided to devote the day to touring the city of Trivandrum and enjoyed ourselves scouring a few museums that offered abundant fascination.

Seeking the counsel of Receptionist Honey, we decided to go to the Puthe Maliga Palace Museum first—it would open at 10am and stay open till 5.00pm.Accordingly, we walked to the end of our quiet hotel lane and found an auto rickshaw to take us there. Most rickshaws do not ply by meter (unlike Bombay) and one is required to negotiate a rate before getting inside. We used Uber to help us figure out the going rate and then took the local rickshaw drivers’ vehicles at Uber prices—which, we thought, were very fair. About ten minutes later, we were deposited at the gates of the Museum and made our way inside.

Touring the Puthe Maliga Palace Museum:

Once inside the museum complex, we were led towards the ticket kiosk and then asked to wait for a guide in whose company we’d be allowed inside. There were about a dozen other people with us in our tour group. The guide spoke in three languages: Malayalam (regional language of Kerala), Hindi and English. We began initially with the lower floor (or ground floor) after depositing our footwear on provided stands. The Palace was the abode of the former Travancore kingly dynasty and the complex is composed of several beautiful structures, some in a better state of repair than others. They are all of uniform color (white stucco walls with red Mangalore tiled roofs). I loved the traditional architectural lines of these buildings and took pictures outside. To take pictures inside, you need to buy a ticket for Rs. 500. We did not do that, but we enjoyed the interiors with their carved details.

Indeed, there are dozens of rooms in the main palace building with gorgeous carved teak ceilings, very interesting floors that gleam and shine but made of an organic mixture of materials containing mustard oil, etc. The Palace is renowned for 172 decorative carved horses that encircles the exterior and for the carved rosewood details on its many solid doors and windows. Of course, there are decorative items inside such as European pottery and ceramics, Belgian glass, glorious Czech chandeliers, an entire art gallery devoted to royal portraiture with aristocratic heads of the Travancore dynasty depicted by such famous European portraitists as Roerich. Another gallery is devoted entirely to arms and armor from past centuries. There is beautiful carved furniture in Victorian style, palanquins and elephant howdahs. It was certainly worth touring the palace to see the wealth of the Travancore maharajas laid out for our viewing pleasure.

Visiting the Napier Museum:

The next item on our agenda was the Napier Museum which I remembered fondly from visiting Trivandrum in my 20s. I was determined to visit it again, not least because I remember seeing, for the first time in my life, a collection of works by Raja Ravi Varma, an aristocrat from the same Travancore dynasty. It had been my first introduction to his work and I had remained deeply struck by it. I believed that the collection was still housed at the Napier Museum; and so, by making inquiries, we discovered that we would need another auto rickshaw to get there—a distance of five kilometers The sun was really hot by this point (it was almost mid-day) and walking on the unshaded streets was quite uncomfortable.

The Napier Museum is located in a vast complex of Victorian gardens that comprise the Government Botanical Gardens and the Zoo. One of the reasons that I probably remember it so well is because it is a strikingly beautiful building whose style defies categorization. Suffice it to say that a combination of red and pink brick work, rather decoratively applied to the façade plus other details such as carved, conical wooden windows and red tiled roofs give it a most dignified and distinctive appearance. It is further accentuated by a large fountain in the front and sprawling gardens that radiate from its main entrance.

Inside, the decoration on walls, floor and ceiling is just as spectacular. There are balcony-like protrusions that stick out of the top where a combination of paint, carving, stucco, etc. combine to create a confection of visual delights that enchanted me. It is a small museum and restricted to just one floor, but there are clear sections within it: Chola bronzes, granite Hindu sculpture, marble figurines, carved ivory objects, a massive wooden Temple car that would have participated in several significant public processions over the years. It was all quite wonderful, but I kept wondering where the Ravi Varma paintings were to be found.

An inquiry at the entrance led me to discover than since the past 40 years, Ravi Varma has grown enormously in stature as one of India’s best contemporary painters. As such, his collection is now housed in a building entirely dedicated to it. This, fortunately, was within the same complex and involved a short five-minute walk. This objective became the most exciting and productive aspect of our day.

Visiting the Art Gallery Containing Raja Ravi Varma’s Paintings:

There is a separate ticket to enter the Ravi Varma Gallery and this we bought easily as we were pretty much the only visitors in the museum. A total of about twenty other visitors were present through the length of our stay of over an hour.

So here’s a word about Raj Ravi Varma. He was born in 1848 into the royal family of the Travancore dynasty of maharajas in Killimanoor Palace in the city of Trivandrum. As his penchant for painting was noticed very early in life, his uncle suggested that he receive training. Accordingly, while in his late teens, he received instruction in the Western painting tradition from the Dutch painter, Theodore Jensen. He soon began to paint portraits of the Travancore royal family in the new European tradition and, upon finding that his work was much admired, he submitted four of his paintings to art competitions in Chennai and Vienna, Austria, respectively—in both places he won prizes. It was not long before Ravi Varma was invited by the royal families of other Indian states to paint their own portraits. He ended up traveling extensively across India to undertake commissioned works, mainly for princely families. In course of time, he made his way to Chicago where, at the same time, the Indian Hindu philosopher, Swami Vivekananda, was also making a mark (in 1893). Both received high acclaim in the USA. While portrait-painting remained Ravi Varma’s bread and butter, he did indulge in the painting of a number of subjects purely for pleasure, The end result is a gigantic oeuvre that includes religious deities, spiritual and mythological narratives, still lives, landscapes and, of course, portraiture—both of prominent people and the common man. Ravi Varma’s style is distinctive because it is realistic in the extreme, characterized by an exuberance of color, unfailing eye for composition and proportion and the ability to pull the viewer into a long-ago world that is both accurate and authentic. Towards the end of his life, he returned to Trivandrum where he continued to remain an active creative artist. India’s Viceroy Lord Curzon, in 1904, described him as the Lord of Paintings and presented him with the Kaiser-e-Hind gold medal. Raiv Varma, whose work and style exemplified Victorian traditions of painting, died soon after the Queen Empress did—in 1906.

As I have personally loved Ravi Varma’s work ever since I was first introduced to it in my 20s, on my first visit to Trivandrum with my parents, I found the visit to this gallery to be the best part of my day. It takes about half an hour to see replicas of the paintings in the initial rooms before one moves further into the gallery to see the actual original oil paintings themselves. These have brief but adequate curatorial notes that take us through the various phases of his achievement. There is also a second floor that takes another half hour to see. Photography is permitted and I found myself wanting to preserve most of his work for posterity—hence I kept clicking quite enthusiastically. I thoroughly enjoyed the visit to this gallery which was probably the highlight of my stay in Trivandrum (as I had expected it to be).’

Sadya Lunch at Mother’s Veg. Plaza:

By this point in time, we were ready for a sit-down and lunch as we had been on our feet for hours. Suggestions on the internet had led me to a place called Mother’s Veg. Plaza which touted the best Sadya Lunch in the city. Sadya is a traditional Keralite meal, served at festive times (usually Onam, the Keralite harvest festival) on a banana leaf. Our Receptionist Honey, at our hotel, had confirmed that this place offers the best Sadya in the city.

Accordingly, we ordered an Uber rickshaw to get to the venue which we found to be filled to bursting. It took a chaotic wait of at least 25 minutes inside a hot, crowded, noisy, large hall before we were able to bag the seats of patrons who were just finishing their meal. At just Rs. 225 per head, this is a very good value for money. It is also very well touted on all social media—which explains the mainly tourist crowd.

Once we sat down, we had a variety of items plonked down on our individual banana leaves. There was a variety of chutneys followed by a mound of thick boiled rice. Equally thick daal was poured over it, with a spoonful of ghee. Then came a number of different vegetable preparations, all traditional and all known to the diners. I have to say that nothing was very tasty or delicious and both of us began to wonder what all the fuss was about. Finally, our meal ended with a number of little bowls containing butter milk and sambar as the servers came around with two types of dessert—payassam (one made of sago or tapioca, the other made with pineapple). These were the tastiest parts of our meal. As there were other diners hovering over us, ready to grab out seats, we could not really linger over our meal, I need to point out that we were the only two people in the entire establishment who asked for spoons—everyone else used their fingers to attack their mound of rice with gusto.

With our bill having been cleared right at the beginning, we merely thanked our servers and left. It is a pity that the crowds made the entire experience highly impersonal. With lunch done and another item ticked off our Wish List, we called another Uber rick and returned to the Botanical Garden for our afternoon visit to the Zoo.

Visiting the Trivandrum Zoo:

Although I always love to visit a zoo, we might have given this one a pass but for a very important reason. It is this zoo that inspired a Booker-Prize winning novel that was later made into a film and a successful stage play (and we have read the book and seen the film and the play). The novel is ‘Life of Pi’ and the author is Yaan Martel whose father served as zoo-keeper at this zoo while he was a child. His novel is largely inspired by the zoo and its animal residents.

So, with this knowledge, we bought our tickets and entered the zoo. There is a golf buggy cart available but it operates at specific times and we were too late for the previous one and too early for the next. Hence, we opted to use our own two (awfully tired) feet to see the zoo, Honey had told us that the zoo boasts a rare white Royal Bengal Tiger and we hoped very much that we would catch a glimpse of it (if not of the original Richard Parker—the name Martel gave the tiger in his novel).

There is nothing else very special about this zoo. Our recently refurbished Bombay Zoo is infinitely better. However, towards the very end of our visit, we did see the white tiger and he is indeed a magnificent creature. He happened to be having a drink and taking a bath in the little stream of water that runs through his enclosure. He offered himself for a few photo ops and both Llew and I excitedly clicked and were rewarded for our efforts.

And once we had seen this attraction, we were ready to call it a day. We were both quite tired by this point and looked forward to sitting down somewhere. It was about 4.30 pm at this time and we realized that we’d be in time for the 5.00 pm Mass at the Church of St. Anne Forane. This was significant as today is a Sunday and it happens to be St. Anne’s Feast. So that was our next port of call.

Mass at the Church of St. Anne Forane:

Once again, Uber came to our rescue as we found our way into the church. However, while there was a large statue of St. Anne with the young Mary by her side, outside the church, we realized that the church website had given us wrong information. We were supposed to have arrived for an English Mass at 5.00 pm. As it turned out, there was no Mass at 5.00pm; it was scheduled at 6.00 pm and it was not going to be in English but Malayalam. Hence, we paid a prayerful visit to the church (one that was profusely decorated for the Feast Day with an abundance of fresh gladioli) and left.

Another Uber rickshaw took us back to our hotel which we reached at about 5.30 pm. As soon as we reached our room, we threw ourselves on our bed as we were so exhausted. About twenty minutes later, we brewed ourselves a cup of coffee and enjoyed it with a bunch of biscuits that we happened to be carrying. With this snack in us, we settled down to do our packing as we would be leaving the hotel early, the next morning. A little later, as we were too tired to get out for dinner, we requested Honey to use his Zomato account to order us Chicken Tikka Sandwiches from Subway. He readily obliged and after sharing a foot-long sub that was not even remotely tasty, we were ready to call it a night. We set our alarms for 6.00 am and fell asleep.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Trivandrum-Kanya Kumari: A Day Spent with a Visit to Kovalam Beach and at the Southernmost Point of the Indian Sub-Continent:

Saturday, July 25, 2026

Trivandrum-Kanya Kumari

A Day Spent with a Visit to Kovalam Beach and at the Southernmost Point of the Indian Sub-Continent:

After the adventurous bus journey we had yesterday, we decided to treat ourselves to the luxury of a privately hired car and driver for the day to take us further down the Kerala Coast and into the state of Tamil Nadu. We had both slept beautifully in our most comfortable bed and after a hot shower, we dressed and were ready to enjoy breakfast in our hotel (included with the price of our room).

Breakfast was of two types: Indian (for which I opted—it included idlis with curry, iddiappam with a chick pea stew, medu vadas with coconut chutney plus fresh fruit—little yellow elchi bananas, water melon and a choice of tea or coffee). The Western breakfast consisted of eggs any style with toast, butter and jam, fresh fruit, tea and coffee. Llew opted for the Western and enjoyed his omlette with buttered toast. Fueled with our food, we requested the helpful Receptionist Honey to find us a private cab driver to fulfil our day’s travel needs. It did not take him long to connect us with a lovely driver named Rajesh who stayed with us for the whole day. He spoke a smattering of English but was very comfortable in Hindi (unlike most people in the South) which made communication with him both very simple and easy.

And so, by 10.20 am, we were in our taxi, heading off for Kanya Kumari. It is a journey that ordinarily takes about two hours, but for some reason, it took us much longer. This was probably due to the fact that we stopped briefly at Kovalam Beach en route.

Stopping at Kovalam Beach:

Kovalam is one of Kerala’s best-known beaches. I’m not really sure why as we did not find anything particularly distinctive about it. It took us about an hour to get there from Trivandrum and once there, it kind of seemed pointless. The tide was in and the ocean was a beautiful dove blue-grey. The sand was wet even at the shore which made it possible to walk down the stairs leading to it an easy business but not a lengthy one. We stayed for a few minutes, took pictures and left. The Leela Group of Hotels has a lovely five-star hotel at one end which is quite picturesque. I found a few souvenir shops and went in search of our souvenir magnets but there were none of Kovalam Beach—only of Kerala. I was able to pick up a few shells at a fraction of the cost I would have paid anywhere in the West and those became my souvenirs for this trip.

Heading South to Kanya Kumari:

And then, more than two hours after getting back into our car and heading further down south, we arrived at Kanya Kumari (formerly known as Cape Comorin). It is the southern tip of the Indian sub-continent and it is the confluence point of three major oceans: the Indian Ocean (in the south), the Arabian Sea (to the West) and the Bay of Bengal (to the East). Rumor used to have it that there are three shades of sand to be found on these beaches, but that is incorrect. The sands of the three beaches merge together to create a single shade. However, the lighting at different times of the day can create an optical illusion that leads the viewer to believe that there are three distinct shades of blue water that come together at this point. And indeed, that was something we easily discerned. You have beautiful shades of aquamarine, cobalt and turquoise blue meeting (the sort of thing we had seen in Hawai’i) in the gigantic waves that hit the shore.

We stopped initially at the confluence of the three oceans—the point known as Triveni Sangam. More about it later. Our first destination was the area’s main attraction, the Rock Temple dedicated to Swami Vivekananda, an Indian sage and philosopher. After Rajesh parked our car, he dropped us off at the roundabout and pointed us in the direction that would lead to the stop from where we could buy tickets for the ferry that would take us across the water to the Temple, which lies just a tiny bit offshore. What also catches the eye is a gigantic statue of a deity (who turned out to be the Hindu sage Thiruvalluram), on an adjacent rock. To get from the Vivekananda Temple to the Hindu Sage’s Temple, you walk across a glass bottomed footbridge which is quite a nice experience in itself as you can see the foaming waters of the sea crashing upon the rocks below. Pretty cool!

Visiting the Vivekananda Temple:

The ride in the ferry lasts about twenty minutes, you are given life jackets (a very wise move) and deposited on the other side. It is quite orderly as the crowds make control necessary through channels that maintain order. We were very fortunate not to find a crowd in the line when boarding. In fact, we were only about the first twenty passengers that boarded. Once on the other side, we gave up our life jackets and were about to climb the rock when we were directed by some of the volunteers to a small room where we watched a short film about the temple, its origin and its construction. This was highly informative, particularly for us who do not know too much about Vivekananda, his life or work.

You take your shoes off in this entire complex and walk with socks or barefooted.The temple complex consists of three parts: the rust-colored stone temple housing a large gleaming brass statue of the philosopher. Once we saw this interior, we walked to the opposite side, where there is a replica of a stone footprint said to have been created by the goddess Kanya Kumari (after whom the site is named) in one of the Hindu epics. Vivekananda is said to have come to this site to stand on this same footprint. Hence, the footprint is well defined and well cordoned off inside a glass enclosure—you can see it but cannot photograph or touch it. Hence, the temple in Vivekananda’s honor was built right opposite. The third structure is the one to the sage Thiruvalluram and this required walking across the glass footbridge. Once inside, you climb up a few flights of stairs to arrive at a viewing gallery which brings you to the feet of the sage. We were very much reminded of our climb up the mountain called Corcovado to see the Statue of Christos Redemptor (Christ The Redeemer) in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, which we had done together, a few years ago. Of course, we did take pictures at this spot too and also enjoyed wonderful views of the seashore at Kanya Kumari. Interestingly, there is a Muslim mosque and a Christian church on these shores—which leads me to believe that this is considered a somewhat sacred spot in all religions.

After we had surveyed all these properties, we took a few pictures and returned to the orderly lines that would lead us back to the ferry that would take us back to the shore. It was here that we found our magnet of Kanya Kumari in one of the shops as well as bags of more shells as I became really delighted to find them at such a cheap price. It was only their weight and fragility that prevented me from buying more.

Visiting the Gandhi Mandapam:

I have to say that it was quite hot and being in the outdoors at mid-day was not entirely comfortable. As we’d had a heavy breakfast, we were not too hungry, but it was important to find shade. We made our way next to the Gandhi Mandapam, a very interesting modern structure.

This white building was specially constructed on the spot where Gandhi’s ashes were kept exposed after his death so that people could pay their respects. A few days later, some of them were scattered in the Triveni Sangam (the three oceans that envelope the peninsula of India would forever hold the ashes of the man who had brought the region into global prominence by giving up his life for it). There is a very reasonably-priced ticket to get into all these venues and there is also footwear to be left behind for safekeeping, as a mark of respect.

Inside, you will find a large, wide hall with a small structure at the far end. In this receptable, Gandhi’s ashes had once lain. All around the hall, on the walls, are a pictorial history of Gandhi’s life. I found it quite fascinating indeed as I used to teach Gandhi’s life and work in my South Asian Studies courses at NYU and seeing all these photographs on the wall took me on a sort of deja-vu trip through the various phases of his life on which I used to lecture. We took about twenty minutes in this space, collected our footwear and returned to the roundabout. As we were carrying our shells with us, we called Rajesh to pick us up and once he arrived, we gratefully got into our AC car and asked him to take us to an AC restaurant so that we could get a bite to eat. He did manage to find us a place in a hotel but the menu was most unappetizing and all we had was a cooling lassi each.

Scaling the Lighthouse for Bird’s Eye Views of Kanya Kumari:

Having cooled off a bit, we proceeded to the next item on our agenda: climbing up to the light house for 360 degree views of Kanya Kumari. Fortunately, there is a lift to get to the top. My brother Russel, reminded me, when I spoke to him on the phone from Kerala, that we had been up to the top about 40 years ago! Truly, he has a phenomenal memory! That said, I too had a feeling that I had been to the place before as soon as I entered the compound.

The lighthouse is not very tall (maybe about six storeys in height). It is a candy-striped red and white building which closes at 6.00 pm. When we arrived there, it was about 5.30pm—which left us half an hour to stay at the top and take pictures. Yes, we did get the 360 degree views of the town but, more importantly, we had a chance to see the tapering West coast of India in a clear line as it petered out into the sea. We did take a few photographs as the ebbing sun rays gilded the landscape quite magically. But then, it was time to descend back again to the arms of Mother Earth and by 6.00pm, we were summoning Rajesh to pick us up again. We had one more item to be covered and we headed towards the spot.

Viewing the Sunset from Sunset Beach:

Two of the biggest attractions of Kanya Kumari are watching the sunrise over the East coast of India and viewing the sunset over the West Coast. When we had visited, forty years ago, we had stayed over the previous night and woken up at 5.00 am (literally the crack of dawn) to view the sunrise. It is a happy family memory that I deeply cherish. This time round, we would be able to see the sunset—so stay we did until we were able to tick that item off our To-Do List.

Sunset was supposed to be at 6.41 pm. This left us about half an hour to find a parking spot and then wait to see the sunset. Well, we weren’t the only ones with such a plan. Half of Kanya Kumari was out on the beach attempting to find a good spot from which to watch the sun sink over the Western horizon. At Rajesh’s suggestion, we got to a spot where we could seat ourselves comfortably and still see the molten gold orb disappear into the sea. Rajesh also took a few pictures of us on the sand as the gilding rays of the sun brought a romantic filter to the scene. Hundreds of people gathered at the same spot to take selfies or to pose in groups as the sun began into downward descent. And then, just give minutes later, it was gone and another day came to an end on the Indian sub-continent.

Long Drive Back to Trivandrum with Dinner En Route:

And then, it was time for us to pile back into our car and get to our hotel in Trivandrum. Darkness fell swiftly over the land as soon as the sun set. We were tired and happy to have a cool, comfortable environment in which to unwind before reaching home. We requested Rajesh to stop at a fast food place such as McDonald’s or Burger King so that we could pick up a take home meal. But Rajesh had other ideas! He suggested a place called Taste of Kerala for what he said would be “excellent fish”. As Llew does not eat fish, he almost nixed the plan. But I told Rajesh that I eat fish and would like to try the famous Karimeen Polichattu (Pearl Fish Steamed in a Banana Leaf). Rajesh said that I was sure to get it at that spot. Hence, the spot became a no-brainer.

True to his prophecy, we really did enjoy an excellent seafood meal at Taste of Kerala. There was a live seafood counter from which we could choose our own favorite fish—fortunately for Llew, there was shell fish too and he chose a neat batch of gigantic shrimp. I chose the pearl fish and had them make it the way I wanted. We ordered fresh lime sodas to wash down our meal and, seated at dimly lit tables in a lovely outdoorsy atmosphere, we enjoyed our dinner. Our driver Rajesh was taken care of by the proprietors, and it seems that he is accustomed to bringing his passengers to this place. His idea was a sterling one and we were very pleased we took his counsel.

Dinner done, we had about a half hour’s run to our hotel. Rajesh dropped us at our gate and within minutes, Honey was present, to open the main door, hand over our keys and bid us goodnight as we climbed the one floor to our room and called it a night.

It had been a full and very productive day and we were amazed at how much ground we had covered, thanks to the services of our own private vehicle and driver.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

In Kerala: Journey from Potta to Trivandrum: Nine Hours Traveling Cattle Class in a State Transport Bus

Friday, July 24, 2026

Journey from Potta to Trivandrum: Nine Hours Traveling Cattle Class in a State Transport Bus

Today was the day our Retreat ended. After the daily rude awakening, followed by prayer (which I skipped so that I could do my packing) and the hour-long lecture (which I also skipped because frankly, I’d had enough), we had our last breakfast in the communal hall. The next session was touted as very important and so we attended it. It would be the last session we would attend—Praise and Worship for half an hour followed by an hour-long lecture. The rest of the morning plodded along in the main Vincentian Hall. It was supposed to be an Anointing Session, but we could not wait for it.

We had a bus scheduled to leave at 12. 15 pm from Challakudy Bus Depot (according to the website of the Kerala State Transport Corporation—KSTC) –so we had requested Joy from the Reception Desk to order us a Taxi at 11. 45 am. We said our last goodbyes to our friends, old and new, and left to return to our room for last-minute packing and to bring our bags down. We were off to spend the next 3 days in southern Kerala while the rest of our group would be returning to Bombay.

A Most Unusual Journey by Bus:

Our taxi did arrive on time at 11. 45 am and off we went to Challakudy Bus Depot hoping to catch the 12. 15 pm bus from there to Trivandrum. Imagine our irritation when we discovered that all the information on the website is outdated or incorrect. There were no buses to Trivandrum from Challakuddy—they went along some bypass and did not stop at the bus deport there! With great language difficultly, we were informed that we would need to take a bus to Ammangeli. This was a half hour run and the bus was expected to call in to Challakudy in a half hour. This left us enough time to pick up a few dry snacks (vadas) and get a fruit juice for lunch at a shabby snack stall before the bus arrived and we boarded it. We were quite the objects of curiosity on the bus as it was obvious no one had ever seen passengers like us using such a pedestrian form of transport. We had expected to get an AC bus with reclining seats, free WIFI. etc. Well, let me tell you, it was an ancient vehicle used as commuter transport. No one going long-distance took those buses. A lady on the bus asked me (in sign language) where we were from and I told her New York because if I had said Bombay, she’d have thought that was an alien planet. And so, paying Rs. 25 per seat, we arrived at Ammangeli.

At Ammangeli, we were told that the AC bus to Trivandrum would arrive at 3.00 pm. It was not even 1.00 pm then and we did not wish to wait for another two hours in that one-horse town with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Hence, we opted to take another state transport bus that was equally pedestrian as the one we’d taken earlier—only this time, we’d be on the bus for nine hours!!!! After waiting for anther half an hour, our bus arrived. We climbed on to it, stashed our baggage in front near the driver’s seat and settled down into two seats far away from each other. Believe me, we were squeezed into seats so narrow it would be hard to accommodate anyone more than 100 pounds in weight. Using sign language again and making many requests, I managed to get us seats together at the very start of the ride. We stayed in that position until night fell and we arrived at our destination—the capital city of Kerala, Trivandrum.

En route, we passed through the entire coastal rib of Kerala. As we are in the monsoon season, everything is clean, green and fresh. We passed by the city of Allepey where we caught fabulous glimpses of the last of the backwaters filled with river craft for which Kerala is famed. We also passed glitzy gold and diamond showrooms and we realized that no matter now dusty the town or how tiny, there are gold shops galore to tempt the buyer. Kerala is obviously a far more wealthy state than West Bengal through which we had driven in May and which is decrepit, to say the least.

We also passed through the town called Kollam and only when we were passing through its obvious prosperity did it occur to me that it was the city formerly known as Quilon. I was excited as my cousin’s late husband had hailed from that town and I was very familiar with the name. Anyway…passengers came and went and as we made our way closer to Trivandrum, the bus became like a commuter van with dozens of folks getting on and off and many standees crowding the gangway. At many stops, we had left our seats to stretch our limbs (Llew even used a restroom at one stop but it was not something I was even interested in doing as I could just imagine how ghastly it would be). So I basically did not use the toilet until we eventually got to our hotel!

And get to our hotel, we did. Upon arrival at Trivandrum, we called for an Uber car and we were deposited at our hotel, ‘Ramas Garden’, where we reached at about 10.00 pm. We had called the hotel and told them that we would be checking in later than notified. We found a lovely Receptionist called Harnik (Honey) waiting for us and within minutes, he gave us our room key on the first floor and saw us into our rooms. It was not even fifteen minutes later that we used the bathroom, brushed and flossed our teeth and fell asleep in the amazingly comfortable bed.

And so that was our big adventure story of our trip to Kerala. Yes, it is true that you can only see India by bus and you can only mingle with the common people when you choose this form of transport. We found everyone extraordinarily kind and gracious towards us—almost protective. The people of the South of India are so refined, so cultured, so extraordinarily nice. It made all the discomfort of the trip worth it.

Until tomorrow…cheerio.

Potta, Kerala: Getting Accustomed to the Regimen of a Well-Orchestrated Retreat

Monday-Thursday, July 20-23, 2026

Getting Accustomed to the Regimen of a Well-Orchestrated Retreat

For the next few days, this was the tenor of our lives. Early morning wake-up calls (at 5.30 am) were punishing, to say the least. A loudspeaker would blare out a hymn that never failed to wake me up with a terrible start, my heart palpitating unpleasantly until it settled down. Half an hour later, (at 6.am), there was black coffee served to all—a way of waking up participants (in case the blaring alarm hymn had been inadequate). At 7.00 am, the entire group gathered for Praise and Worship, a spirited singing session with a full band in attendance. These musicians are part of the Music Ministry, and they did an excellent job getting the congregation to sing loudly with them. The Charismatics do not do anything quietly—their worship is all about sound and fury. They also punctuate their singing with actions (the raising of arms, the rhythmic clapping, the swaying from side to side, etc.). It soon became routine for us, but initially, it was all a bit overwhelming to watch. Praise and Worship was followed by an hour-long lecture by which time my stomach was rumbling so fiercely as to make it impossible to focus on what was being said.

At 8.30 am, we trooped into the Dining Hall for breakfast. It was always tasty with a different kind of ‘bread’ served daily—one day appams, another day Malabar parotta, another day idiyappam (string hoppers)—always with sambar or curry. There was also always a hard-boiled egg (for those who needed protein with every meal). This was followed by a choice of tea or coffee.

Post-breakfast, there were more lectures, more healing sessions and at 3.00 pm daily, there was the Divine Mercy Chaplet that was recited by the entire congregation. Lunch followed with more lectures or praying sessions interspersed until tea-time. Post-Tea, there were more lectures until dinner. There was always Mass at 7.00 pm (most often said by Fr. Augustin which unfailingly included a 40-60 minute homily). I have to say that I found it tedious in the extreme and I often wondered how much more of it I could take. I suppose what kept me going was the fervor and devotion of everyone else around me. They were completely fixated on the altar, on the words of the speaker, on the notes emanating from the keyboard or the guitar. None of them seemed to find the sessions too lengthy, too repetitive or too boring. Their devotion was truly inspirational.

In the midst of the sessions, Llew and I found the time, one afternoon, to explore the vast premises of the Center. We took a walk down to a river along whose bank the Center has been constructed. There are structures through which the 14 Stations of the Way of the Cross are spelled out in plaster of Paris sculpture. The entire facility is thick with greenery and tropical vegetation. We could smell ripe jackfruit on the trees and see other fruit plantations and orchards all around us (mango, cashew, banana, coconut). It is a perfect setting for quiet contemplation and meditation on the various lessons we were taught through the talks. Sadly, there was no time given for any of these activities—probably because, from experience, they realize that people will simply sit around and chat because they were craving relief from the spiritual overdose. I often wished I could slip out and sit under a tree and listen to the wind rustling its branches or watch cheeky squirrels scampering along to the top. But there was never any opportunity to enjoy this. Meal-time offered some respite from the spiritual treadmill when we could actually chat with each other as we enjoyed our food. It was during these times that we laughed about the more humorous speakers and the badly-needed comic relief that they brought.

On one of the days, there was a mandatory fast (except for those with heath issues who were unable to maintain a fast). This was held to support the youth and children who would be attending their Confessions that day. After breakfast, there was no food served until tea-time. I have to say that I did not really feel hungry (as breakfast was hearty) but by tea-time, I was ready for a snack. And dinner that night was a feast! There was vegetable biryani, fried chicken, chicken curry, two vegetables and even chocolate for dessert!

The penultimate day—the second-last day—was the most powerful. It was the day devoted to Iner Healing and it was conducted by Fr. Joseph Edattu who is based at a similar Divine Retreat Center in Ramsgate, Kent, UK. He is a terrific speaker and the examples he used to teach were so perfectly apt that I took most counsel from his words. He conducted a session in which people were asked to surrender all their petitions, woes, worries, etc.to the Lord. The place was darkened, all electric lights switched off, the only light coming from a few candles on the altar. The monstrance was exposed throughout this nearly 90 minute session when people lost all their inhibitions and cried aloud in anguish that was heartrending to hear. It made me realize how much emotional, financial, physical hardship people endure on a daily basis and how difficult it is for them to carry their burdens. At the end of the session that included music, singing, chanting, call and response measures from the priest at the altar, people were told to come forward to let the congregation know if they had experienced any healing at that session. Eric, who was a member of our group, a retired sea captain, who had lost his sight and was near-blind, went up to the altar and gave his ‘testimony’. He reported that during the healing session, he felt a strong sensation near his eyes and when he opened them, he found that he could see all the colors and patterns of the altar clearly—something he had been unable to do when he had arrived for the Retreat.