Edappully-Guruvayoor Push-pull

Travelogue is an account of the experience of a person moving from a place to another. When he or she travels images come, person come, lifestyles come... Travel is possible to a familiar land to excavte the untold stories and to an unfamiliar land to make it known. Life is experienced. The tavel contains the diversity of cultures, languages...
If one starts from his or her house to the nearest town, neighbouring library, to the friend who lives on the bank of near by river or to the talkies, it is a journey of varying experience. My walks from my house to the temple town, Guruvayoor were with full of interesting experiences.
In an evening I started my journey to Guruvayoor. After a siesta, getting refreshed I took the library books in my hand. My mother was offering the Azer prayer. Just after the prayer she asked to me, 'don't you take tea?'
I told her, 'no, I will have it later'
'Taking tea in hotel is not good always. Be careful!'
She advised me.And she continued,'don't get late. here we are old. we have to go to bed early.'
'Yes', I said as usual.
The footsteps of my house plastered with red and black oxides. I stepped down. From there a very beautiful panoramic view of the barren paddy field is possible. Now cultivation is not possible because of the canal water pollution...I walked to the narrow strip of sand to the municipal road...
Part 2
Canal is popularly known as Valiyathodu. It has historical role of making and shaping the life the people on its banks. In my childhood I have made lots of walks to Angadithazham along the side of the Valiyathodu. My father Avaran had a shop in Angadithazham. Kovilan, one of the well celebrated writers in Malayalam has mentioned the life in Agadithazham in his great work 'Thattakam'. Really it is a work on the life and tradition of the folk in our place decades back. Once Valiyathodu played a major role in irrigating cultivating land exdended on the both sides of the thodu. It was green sights all around us to see the paddy field. We had some plots of paddy fields where we cultivated rice. It is belonged to my childhood. Bunches of plants we collected and distribhuted for the women workers in the field. Their songs, charming chirps, how it was! The songs contained the sweetness and even meloncholy of the life of the hamlet and its days. In rains we enjoyed a lot. From the banks we dived into the flooded water in the fields and canal. That time both Valiyathodu and paddy fields seemed a small ocean in front of my house to me. In deya we enjoyed the beauty of the rain. But in nights we shivered on the fear from the mad monsoon winds and thunderbolts. My mother asked us to recite some holy verses from the Qur an. We did so. Even though the threatening lightning and thunderbolts continued. In water we made boats of African weeds and coconut leaves. We saiiled our boats crossing the under water ridges to different directions like the navigators who are in search of unknown latitudes and longitudes. So the memories of Vliyathodu have no boarders...