MANAM

Mikael, André, Nina. And then André and Mikael again. A fitting name for our gang in a number of ways. For starters, traveling in Kerala, the local language is Malayalam. The locals are quick and proud to point out that it is the only language in the world whose name is the same whether you spell it forward or backward. Mikael is from Sweden, just like ABBA, another such palindrome.

And we’re all sort of from somewhere. Mikael arrived at the age of two months in Sweden from Chile, whence he was adopted by salt-of-the-earth Swedish parents. I find it fascinating to see the South American and Northern European traits in tandem. Nina was originally from Cleveland, but that was before even I was born. She is my adoptive mother all the way from Kibbutz Yotvata, and she has bestowed upon me the honor of spending her sojourn in India with us.

Mikael and I met up in Pushkar. Then we went in different directions. And then we missed each other. A lot. So we met up again in Bombay, and had a whale of a time. Once again, we chose differing onward paths, with Mikael going to Goa, and I making my way down to Cochin in anticipation of Nina’s arrival. But we missed each other. This time quite seriously. A reunion was essential. And this is how the three of us linked up and became MANAM in Kerala.

I had already been in Cochin for two weeks, and for as lovely as that place is, MANAM reached a consensus that it was high time to head for the beach. Nina had the good sense to pack light. I have no such sense. And Mikael, in an endearingly Northern European attribute of being a master of organized packing, was finally, at long last, on hand to ensure that my knapsack would indeed close this time. Until now, it has only been by the grace of God and the skin of my teeth that I’ve been able to fit all my gear into the available and feasible baggage.

In the event, when he saw the state of affairs, he nearly had a breakdown. Before he could start, he poured himself a stiff gin and tonic, after which he expelled me from the room. It was his good luck that there was any gin left, as MANAM has taken to downing a bottle almost every night. Blue Ribbond is the local brew, and I gotta tell you that it is basically rubbing alcohol with artificial flavors. But it leaves no hangover, and we don’t get too messed up or irrational, so it has become MANAM’s cocktail of choice.

Nina and I went to a local tea house to bid farewell to Chaim, an American Jew resident in South India, who coincidentally, was also sort of from Cleveland. Upon my return, two hours later, having arranged for late checkout, since there was absolutely no possibility of our getting our acts together by the requisite noon hour, I found my big knapsack two thirds full, containing every article of clothing rolled up neatly, and tied with a rubber band. All the white clothes had been stored together, separate from the rest. The books had been carefully arranged to balance out the weight and volume in the framework of the bag’s other contents. And I was met with a stare of stupefaction as to how I could have kept myself on the road for six whole months in this state of affairs.

Destination: Kovalam, some 15 km from Kerala’s state capital of Trivandrum. A beach, so we are told, to behold in its beauty. And tourist season hasn’t even started, so we’ll more or less have the place to ourselves. The main goal: a tanning competition. Mikael doesn’t believe me, but I reckon I can give him a run for his money and end up the darker between the two of us. Gin and tonic, sunsets, fresh fish for lunch and dinner, and lots of sunscreen: this is MANAM’s formula for Kovalam.