At a safe distance from the firepit

I returned to Kochi to hang out with the ladies. Tash and I stayed at M’s place which is a perfectly sized, manageable apartment conveniently located next to the metro and a ginormous mall. Buying an apartment in Kochi is something Mike and I have considered, but how long would we stay in India, any given year? A permanent move was never on the cards, but post-retirement, maybe three or four months a year, when it’s cold in the US? It didn’t make much financial sense (getting a monthly rental is far more sensible), but a part of me still wondered about owning a home in Kochi.

Talking to M, the idea seemed foolhardier than ever. Home owners’ associations don’t really function the way it does in the US. Much like anything else in India, getting the HOA to work in an organized fashion is rather difficult, if not impossible. I also had to reckon with the fact that Kochi is increasingly polluted. I was initially insulated from it because I was getting around in cabs or being driven around by M, but later when I started taking autos, the real air got to me.

Realities aside, I also took a deep-dive into Instagram for the first time through M’s account. It was nice to see old STC faces, all much improved (as can only be) in their new and sometimes surprising avatars as globe-trotters, moms, fashionistas etc. M and Tash seemed to start their days with a casual scroll through their accounts, and I was right with them, peering into M’s phone without a thought. As M put it, I had lost my Instagram virginity. But while the fling was fun, I will remain footloose and fancy-free of social media networks.

We had a lot of catching up to do, so we chatted the whole while, and ate through most of it. We had porotta and mutton mappas from the new Vytilla CBH and mused on whether we would get married again if we could turn back the clock. Later, on our way to Supreme, where I got Kinnathappam for the first time (it is delicious and I hope I can make it someday), Tash was talking about her brother, who goes over and beyond to ease her troubles. We checked out two new pubs – the first one was Francis in Fort Kochi, which is an old Dutch house conversion – it set a very welcome and unassumingly casual vibe with dim lighting and dark furniture, but then ruined it all with loud, live music. We ordered some beer and way too much food and strained to have a conversation. The other pub is owned by M’s family—how cool is that! Between Tash and myself, we tried out a few local-sounding cocktails such as Muddy Meenakshi and Pacha Manga. They were on the sweet side, but I appreciated the homage to one’s roots.

We also checked out two new cafes, Pandhal in Fort Kochi and Coz Coffee. The bungalow in which Pandhal is housed used to be an abandoned building. On seeing it, Tash immediately recognized it—once, during our college days, when Tash, H and I were meandering through Fort Kochi, we came across this marvelously, ghostly bungalow. After much discussion, Tash and I, our imaginations stirred and with our hearts in our mouths, ventured to explore the building. But no sooner had we set foot in it, something started bellowing at us from inside and we ran back screaming. Of course, it was the watchman.

This time around, we had nothing to fear. The main building (David Hall) is a bright and airy art studio. Food was served on the verandah at the back. The three of us split a pizza and I shared my beef rendang & porottas with M. Afterwards, we checked out the artwork and Tash kept asking, but what does it mean? for which I had no answers.

Coz Coffee had a nice layout too, the area where we sat was like a courtyard. But ambience aside, none of these new cafes can hold a candle to Cocoa Tree, which continues to come up with new flavors and treats, all the while maintaining its exceptional quality. I sipped on my matcha latte and people-watched—a dapper couple in matching outfits, people in H&M clothes, which apparently has become the go-to western brand of the affluent Malayalee, and last but not the least, a girl in a tube-top, accompanied by a coterie of docile young men. Instagram has definitely changed people’s clothing sensibilities and the threshold of acceptability in Kerala.

We talked about Salem and the prospects of M and Tash making a visit soon. Tash has even more of a reason to make the trip, now that her cousin is going to do his PhD in Boston. She has however, got all the wrong ideas about Salem because of the Satanic temple, and I sort of bungled my chance at setting the right image. She was awfully close to working herself up into righteous indignation, and I could only watch on, half annoyed, half helpless.

Back in the apartment, I brought out Cadbury Fingers (a classic in my books), which is not something either Tash or M had tried before. Tash had one, enjoyed it and smiled her approval in that yahaha manner of hers. As I approached M, who is technically on a diet (which she was kind enough to suspend for the course of our get-together), she wailed, God, may I not like this thing, and then after a bite said, damn it.