What my trip to Kerala gave me
I went as a tourist. I came back with a hairy promise, and a new love.
I came back from Kerala with the promise of raven-black hair.
Bad, bad adjective. Let’s do that again.
I came back from Kerala with the promise of a head full of lustrous, jet-black, no-more-hair hair. Apologies, I meant ‘no-more-hairfall.’
I can blame my Freudian slips on the tender coconut water malfunction that just happened while writing. I was too busy sipping on tender coconut water with a yellow straw that has a pink spotted umbrella adorning its head, which is more of an obstruction than an adornment, when the entire tender coconut rolled out of my hands. Who has heard of a tender coconut rolling out of someone’s hands? You did. Just now.
Let’s get back.
For all of you who are not aware of Kerala, it is a beautifully verdant Indian state. I recently visited the place as a tourist, and boy! I loved the place. I stayed in a houseboat there and that was the highlight of the trip. If you’ve not read my piece on that, here it is.
I’ve never been on a boat/ship for more than 30 minutes in my life. It is only since last week that I’ve been traveling…medium.com
I came back with stars in my eyes, the night in my hair, and tender coconuts in my hands.
Kerala has promised me a lot of hairy goodness. It has promised me shiny, no-more-freaky, black hair in the form of a hair oil with a name that is too difficult to pronounce. Or spell. I’d rather tuck the name of the oil inside the bottle than write it down here. It is not Argan or anything vaguely or remotely Moroccan. It is Indian; a-difficult-to-pronounce-Indian hair oil.
If you insist I tell you the name, send me an email about it. I’ll block thirty five minutes on my calendar to get the spelling correct and write back to you. If you are the digressional type of reader and more curious than Curious George, let me inform you that I use Google Calendar. Thank you. You are making me digress!
In addition, I found a new love in Kerala. Coconuts! It is strange that I had to go to Kerala to find my love. Imagine me having to go to the beach to know that I love ‘Sex on the Beach.’
Being in love makes you feel good, and warm. You smile coyly.
People ask you ‘You are smiling! Are you in love?’
I answer ‘Yes! I’m in love. I’m in love with Cocos Nucifera, and I’m not shy to talk about it.’
The same people ask me ‘Is he Spanish? The name sounds Spanish.’
‘Botanical,’ I answer dreamily.
Coconuts are making me smile now. My new passion for coconut has helped me find the answer to my identity crisis. I can say with pride ‘I’m a coconut lover!’ It will probably go on my Medium profile as well.
Coconuts are finding their place in everything that is cooked at home now. Vegetables which are usually looked down upon have got a facelift after being generously lathered with desiccated coconut. I have cooked coconut chicken-succulent pieces of chicken delicately simmered in coconut milk and a little more generously plastered with desiccated coconut. The husband licked off the last bit of spice only to ask ‘Was that chicken coconut?’ to which I answered ‘No, it was coconut chicken.’
To top it all, I’ve changed my kid’s name to Coconut Head. He responds to it. Can you guess the fathoms of my love for the drupe?
You can find coconut trees everywhere in Kerala - one in your lawn, the second where your lawn ends, the third near the second one, the fourth on your foot, the fifth on the border of your fence, the sixth just outside the fence, the seventh close to the sixth, the eighth just inside the fence again and so on. You got the map. I’ve been considering planting a coconut tree in the balcony of my apartment. I don’t really mind cracking up entire buildings. Coconuts should flourish!
If you’ve liked this post, clap for it. Know that this post is half in jest, and the other half dipped in coconut oil.