Kerala: a journey within
Kerala: a journey within
In February 2022, I moved from Vizag to Delhi. Just a few months later, my father got transferred to Kochi, Kerala. Our home there wasn’t in the heart of the city but on the outskirts, almost like a small world carved out in the Arabian Sea, close enough to Kochi yet with its own quiet rhythm.
During a long vacation from college, I finally visited my parents in Kochi. That trip became my very first encounter with Kerala, a place I had only heard about in stories and travel magazines, but never imagined I’d call a second home, even if only briefly.
The flight itself felt like a small journey within the larger one. A direct 3.5-hour flight can be tiring, but the excitement kept me awake. Back then, Air India offered surprisingly good service, the journey was smooth, comfortable, almost calming.
Landing at Kochi was another experience altogether. The airport itself stood out! not just because it is the first airport in the world fully powered by solar energy, but also because of its ambience and architecture. The design carried a warmth, a mix of modern efficiency with a touch of Kerala’s character.
A HOME IN THE RAINS :
But the real challenge began after the arrival. My home was two hours away from the airport. Yet, instead of exhaustion, the drive left me mesmerized. The roadways were wide and clean, the greenery refreshing, and there was hardly any traffic. That very first step into Kerala felt different, like the place had already started to welcome me in its own quiet, graceful way.
Finally, I reached home. The house was beautiful, with sloping roofs that blended perfectly with the lush surroundings. The township was drenched in green, wrapped in the rhythm of monsoon rain, as it was the month of August. It took me a little time to adjust to Kerala’s western coastal showers, but soon enough, the rains became a melody I cherished or may be irritating.
THE FIRST ROAD TRIP:
Not long after, we planned a long road trip, from Kochi all the way to Kanyakumari. And trust me, that was one of the best decisions of my life. That trip turned into more than just a journey; it was a moving postcard of Kerala’s landscapes and people.
We began from Kochi, where the Chinese fishing nets along the coast swayed gracefully with the tides, and Fort Kochi still carried the charm of colonial architecture and narrow streets. From there, we headed to Alleppey, often called the “Venice of the East.” The sight of endless backwaters lined with coconut trees, houseboats gliding over still waters, and villages living in harmony with the rhythm of canals was breathtaking.
Our journey then took us to Trivandrum, the capital city, which combined tradition and modernity. The majestic Padmanabhaswamy Temple stood as a symbol of Kerala’s deep spiritual roots, while the city itself felt both royal and relaxed. Just a short distance away was Kovalam Beach, golden sands meeting the Arabian Sea, waves crashing gently, and lighthouses watching over the coastline. It was serene yet full of life.
And then came the grand finale: Kanyakumari. Standing at the southernmost tip of India, where the Arabian Sea, Bay of Bengal, and Indian Ocean meet, I felt an overwhelming sense of vastness. Watching the sun dip into the horizon there was more than just a sight, it was an experience, a moment where nature itself reminded me of how small yet connected we all are.
That trip taught me something beyond travel, it introduced me to the soul of Kerala’s people. They guided us patiently, smiled even through language barriers, and extended warmth that felt genuine.
THE RHYTHM OF KERALA:
And oh, the roads of Kerala! Lined with thick green canopies that formed tunnels of shade, with stretches suddenly opening to the shimmering sea, every path felt less like a road and more like a secret doorway into untouched beauty. Driving here was never just about reaching a destination, it was the journey itself that held the magic.
That first trip became the beginning of something deeper. Vacations slowly turned into a rhythm, and I found myself returning again and again. One of the greatest blessings was having a beach just a short walk away from home, an everyday luxury that felt almost unreal. For someone coming from one of the most polluted cities, stepping into the green embrace of Kochi felt like life gifting me a second breath.
Kerala carried a silence that was not empty but full, an unspoken calm. Each time I left behind Delhi’s endless noise and arrived here, I felt myself breathe differently: slower, steadier, lighter. And just like that, three years passed in a gentle blur, every return home unfolding as an adventure in its own quiet way.
ONAM AND EVERY WANDERS:
Among those years, I was fortunate enough to witness "Onam" the grand festival of Kerala. The culture left me in awe! the elaborate pookalams (floral decorations), the traditional dances, the vibrant attire, and the unforgettable Onam Sadhya, a grand feast served on banana leaves, with over 20 dishes that blend sweet, sour, spicy, and tangy flavours in perfect harmony.
Even their custom of serving warm pinkish water, known as Chukku Vellam (herbal water), fascinated me. And sometimes, during morning walks, I’d even spot elephants being gently walked around, a sight both surreal and grounding.
In February 2022, I moved from Vizag to Delhi. Just a few months later, my father got transferred to Kochi, Kerala. Our home there wasn’t in the heart of the city but on the outskirts, almost like a small world carved out in the Arabian Sea, close enough to Kochi yet with its own quiet rhythm.
During a long vacation from college, I finally visited my parents in Kochi. That trip became my very first encounter with Kerala, a place I had only heard about in stories and travel magazines, but never imagined I’d call a second home, even if only briefly.
The flight itself felt like a small journey within the larger one. A direct 3.5-hour flight can be tiring, but the excitement kept me awake. Back then, Air India offered surprisingly good service, the journey was smooth, comfortable, almost calming.
Landing at Kochi was another experience altogether. The airport itself stood out! not just because it is the first airport in the world fully powered by solar energy, but also because of its ambience and architecture. The design carried a warmth, a mix of modern efficiency with a touch of Kerala’s character.
A HOME IN THE RAINS :
But the real challenge began after the arrival. My home was two hours away from the airport. Yet, instead of exhaustion, the drive left me mesmerized. The roadways were wide and clean, the greenery refreshing, and there was hardly any traffic. That very first step into Kerala felt different, like the place had already started to welcome me in its own quiet, graceful way.
Finally, I reached home. The house was beautiful, with sloping roofs that blended perfectly with the lush surroundings. The township was drenched in green, wrapped in the rhythm of monsoon rain, as it was the month of August. It took me a little time to adjust to Kerala’s western coastal showers, but soon enough, the rains became a melody I cherished or may be irritating.
THE FIRST ROAD TRIP:
Not long after, we planned a long road trip, from Kochi all the way to Kanyakumari. And trust me, that was one of the best decisions of my life. That trip turned into more than just a journey; it was a moving postcard of Kerala’s landscapes and people.
We began from Kochi, where the Chinese fishing nets along the coast swayed gracefully with the tides, and Fort Kochi still carried the charm of colonial architecture and narrow streets. From there, we headed to Alleppey, often called the “Venice of the East.” The sight of endless backwaters lined with coconut trees, houseboats gliding over still waters, and villages living in harmony with the rhythm of canals was breathtaking.
Our journey then took us to Trivandrum, the capital city, which combined tradition and modernity. The majestic Padmanabhaswamy Temple stood as a symbol of Kerala’s deep spiritual roots, while the city itself felt both royal and relaxed. Just a short distance away was Kovalam Beach, golden sands meeting the Arabian Sea, waves crashing gently, and lighthouses watching over the coastline. It was serene yet full of life.
And then came the grand finale: Kanyakumari. Standing at the southernmost tip of India, where the Arabian Sea, Bay of Bengal, and Indian Ocean meet, I felt an overwhelming sense of vastness. Watching the sun dip into the horizon there was more than just a sight, it was an experience, a moment where nature itself reminded me of how small yet connected we all are.
That trip taught me something beyond travel, it introduced me to the soul of Kerala’s people. They guided us patiently, smiled even through language barriers, and extended warmth that felt genuine.
THE RHYTHM OF KERALA:
And oh, the roads of Kerala! Lined with thick green canopies that formed tunnels of shade, with stretches suddenly opening to the shimmering sea, every path felt less like a road and more like a secret doorway into untouched beauty. Driving here was never just about reaching a destination, it was the journey itself that held the magic.
That first trip became the beginning of something deeper. Vacations slowly turned into a rhythm, and I found myself returning again and again. One of the greatest blessings was having a beach just a short walk away from home, an everyday luxury that felt almost unreal. For someone coming from one of the most polluted cities, stepping into the green embrace of Kochi felt like life gifting me a second breath.
Kerala carried a silence that was not empty but full, an unspoken calm. Each time I left behind Delhi’s endless noise and arrived here, I felt myself breathe differently: slower, steadier, lighter. And just like that, three years passed in a gentle blur, every return home unfolding as an adventure in its own quiet way.
ONAM AND EVERY WANDERS:
Among those years, I was fortunate enough to witness "Onam" the grand festival of Kerala. The culture left me in awe! the elaborate pookalams (floral decorations), the traditional dances, the vibrant attire, and the unforgettable Onam Sadhya, a grand feast served on banana leaves, with over 20 dishes that blend sweet, sour, spicy, and tangy flavours in perfect harmony.
Even their custom of serving warm pinkish water, known as Chukku Vellam (herbal water), fascinated me. And sometimes, during morning walks, I’d even spot elephants being gently walked around, a sight both surreal and grounding.
KOCHI AND BEYOND:
Even though I never made close friends in Kerala, the city never made me feel lonely. It embraced me like its own child.
I even got to experience India’s first water metro in Kochi, a unique blend of modern infrastructure with Kerala’s waterways. Fort Kochi, with its Portuguese-era churches, spice markets, and quaint cafes, felt like walking through living history.
Living in Kerala never felt like simply “coming home.” Every day felt like a journey, an immersion into a culture so different yet so grounding. Temples here seemed to breathe with life, prayers and rituals went on without pause, a constant rhythm of devotion flowing through the air.
“Have you ever heard rain scream?” Only Kerala can give you that. Here, the rain doesn’t just fall, it roars, sings, and fills every corner of your soul with its wild music.
I was amazed to learn how many families still made their own wine at home, a tradition lovingly passed down. I even got to taste some, offered warmly by neighbors. It carried the flavor of community, of sharing more than just a drink.
Staying here felt like an education in itself. The hygiene, the sense of order, and the remarkable cleanliness across even the smallest lanes were eye-opening for someone like me, coming from Delhi’s cluttered chaos. What struck me most was the humility of people. From workers doing everyday tasks to shopkeepers in small stalls, everyone carried themselves with such dignity and manners. Kerala taught me that respect and grace are not tied to status, they are a way of life.
THE LAST JOURNEY:
Then came my last trip to Kerala. Even though it wasn’t officially my last, I had a feeling it was. That made me savour it even more.
We travelled to Munnar, where rolling tea plantations stretched like green carpets over misty hills. At Lockhart, nature revealed herself in her purest form, those untouched valleys and breathtaking viewpoints.
Later, Varkala, with its dramatic cliffs overlooking the Arabian Sea, and "Jatayu Earth’s Center" the world’s largest bird sculpture symbolising the women's safety through the story of Ramayana, added magic to my journey. Kerala’s coastline, dotted with countless iconic beaches, became the canvas of my memories.
Kerala was always worth the 3.5-hour flight, and I knew it would never bore me. Its nature, its history, and its people had a way of keeping you hooked.
THE FINAL GOODBYE: April, 2025
I woke up to the sound of rain falling softly on sloping roofs, the rustle of coconut trees, and the distant call of a koel. That day, everything felt sharper, brighter, like Kerala wanted me to remember it in its fullest beauty.
I walked down to the beach one last time. The waves were the same as always eternal, playful, endless, but to me, they felt heavier, as though they too knew I was leaving. Standing by the shore, with the salty breeze on my face, I realised how much this place had given me: peace, stillness, and a version of myself I might never have found otherwise.
Memories rushed back, road trips, monsoons, Onam, temple bells, endless green drives, kind strangers, and quiet evenings where the world seemed to pause.
Kerala never let me feel like a stranger. It welcomed me when I had no friends there, wrapped me in its calm, and showed me that home is not always a permanent address, it can be a feeling.
As the sun dipped into the Arabian Sea, painting the sky in orange and gold, I knew a chapter of my life was closing. There was sadness, yes, but also immense gratitude. Because places like Kerala never really leave you, they live forever in your stories, your memories, and your heart.
Kerala had been more than just a place for me. It had been peace. It had been belonging. And though I said goodbye, I knew I would always carry a piece of Kerala within me.
Three years of college kept me tied to Delhi, but it was Kerala that truly found me. And perhaps, in ways I’ll only understand years later, it shaped me too.
~CiviScope
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