Travel Diaries: Thangasserry Breakwater Tourism Park – A Walk Down Memory Lane

The Wait for a Sunny Day

If you’ve read my previous travel blog, “A Tale of Two Rainbows…,” then you already know that on July 6th, I had set out to explore a picturesque coastal village named Thangasserry in my hometown of Kollam. Though I was blessed to witness a beautiful double rainbow that day, I could only visit one spot on my itinerary, the Thangasserry Lighthouse, before the rain interrupted my plans. 

I was already feeling sad and discouraged because the monsoons and illness had disrupted my travel plans in the last week of May and throughout June. So again, when I lost many days in July to the rain, my anger and frustration grew. Honestly, I felt miserable being stuck at home… almost like a donkey chasing an unachievable, unrealistic carrot-dream that kept eluding her. But one sunny day was all it took to lift my spirits. 🌞

You should have seen the joy on my face when I woke up early on 30th July and realized there was no sign of rain. The sky was mostly clear, and the sun generously showered its warmth on me. I smiled gleefully and promised myself, “No matter what, I will somehow complete the Thangasserry trip today.”

The Journey Begins

Note: For detailed instructions on how to reach Thangasserry in Kollam, Kerala, India, please refer to my previous blog.

After finishing my urgent work for the day, I left my home by 2 pm and boarded a bus to Ammachiveedu. 

Once I reached Ammachiveedu, I patiently waited for the next bus to Thangasserry instead of walking the 1.5+ kilometers to the spot, like last time. During my previous trip (specifically while climbing the stairs of Thangasserry Lighthouse, out of breath), I learned the hard way that you don’t always have to do things the most strenuous way. It’s okay to take the easy route and conserve your energy while you can. 

This reminded me of a Shah Rukh Khan dialogue from the Bollywood movie Dear Zindagi, 

“Kabhi kabhi hum mushkil rasta sirf is liye chunte hai … kyun ki humein lagta hai, important cheezein paane ke liye humein mushkil rasta apnana chahiye … apne aap ko punish karna bahut zaroori samajhte hai … but why, aasaan rasta kyun nahi chun sakte … kya burai hai us mein … khaas karke jab us mushkil ka saamna karne ke liye hum taiyaar hi nahi hai…”

English translation: “Sometimes we choose a difficult path only because … we feel that to attain important things we need to choose a difficult path … we think that it’s important to punish ourselves … but why can’t we choose a simple path … what’s wrong with that … especially when we are not ready to face that difficult path…”

While I was waiting for the bus, I chit-chatted with an uncle at the bus stop about the frequency of buses plying to Thangasserry. Within 20 minutes, the bus arrived. I got a ₹10 ticket to the last stop – Thangasserry private bus stand.

Soon, I got off the bus stand and started walking towards the next spot on my itinerary – Thangasserry Breakwater Tourism Park. This park was inaugurated only in 2023, but I’ve visited this spot many times in the past. However, that was during the pre-COVID years, before the government renovations to convert the 2.5 acres around the Thangasserry Sea Bridge (Pulimutt) into an official tourism park. I was excited to see what changes had been made, but I was also worried that the place might have lost its original charm due to the government’s attempts to commercialize it.

Ticket Rates & Timings

I reached the entrance of the breakwater park, or Pulimutt as I still like to call it fondly, and the security staff guided me to the ticket counter. 

Entry time – 10 AM – 8 PM

Ticket rates – Adult: ₹10, Children: ₹5, Senior Citizens: ₹5 

Camera charges – Still Camera: ₹60, Video Camera: ₹500

Recreational Facilities For Kids (Available only after 5 pm):

Trampoline (₹50), Air Balloon (₹50),  Pedal Boat – (₹10), Electric Jeep – (₹100)

Food counters, including ice cream and popcorn stalls, are also available.

Thangasserry Breakwater Tourism Park

I bought a ₹10 entry ticket and walked past the parking area. I could see the Pulimutt, new buildings, a row of shops, and another security chetan at a distance. But the big, lively banyan tree on the right side lured my attention. I made a mental note to enjoy some alone time, sitting under its shade, before leaving the place. 

I showed my ticket to the security chetan and chatted a bit with him. I enquired about the facilities available in the park and the nearby sightseeing spots. From him, I learned that only half of the original trail is open to the public now. After the renovations, the government has placed a locked gate with warning signs at the middle of the trail, restricting further access. 

I was a tad bit disappointed to hear that. The few times I had visited this place in the past, I was always accompanied by my family. We usually came here for my mom’s evening walks. Because of her health issues, she can’t walk very long distances. So, we never had the chance to explore the entire trail together. Now I was all alone and raring for a long, adventurous walk. However, I just couldn’t, due to the restrictions. 

Whenever I see a long, plain trail like this, like most travel enthusiasts, I yearn to see what’s at the end. If it’s a hill or a trekking route, then I want to see what’s on top. Even if it’s just a mediocre view or tiny waterfall, the fact that I struggled and pushed myself beyond my limits to reach that point would lift my spirits and make that arduous journey worthwhile. Not seeing a trail to the end makes me feel sad, as if I had somehow left the trip incomplete. 

I walked up to the closed gate, clicking photos and enjoying the view on the way. The signboard mentioned that further entry is restricted due to the possibility of strong sea waves. I saw a few local fishermen walk past the closed gate and ended up wishing I had such access, too. (Ill advised, I know.)

I felt the place had changed completely. The rocks on either side seemed new and taller, yet somehow more tamed. I couldn’t climb them even if I tried (I think that was the intention). The old, familiar, mossy rocks and the graffiti on them were gone. I missed how I could climb the old rocks and sit atop them, enjoying the waves and the sunset view much better. 

Instead, I climbed the nearby, small watchtower-like building and observed the view from the top. A few couples and friends who were sitting comfortably on the stairs of the building had to move and make space for me when I climbed up and down. They were watching funny TikTok videos and laughing aloud, or clicking selfies on their mobile phones. From the top of the building, I could see the Thangasserry fishing harbour, the nearby play area for kids, and glimpses of the open-air auditorium on the premises more clearly. 

Once I got down from the building, I clicked photos of the lighthouse as seen from the Pulimutt. Then I walked through the park, enjoying the sea, the rocks, the trees, and the new constructions. 

As it was a lazy afternoon, that too on a weekday, there were only a few visitors in the park. Most of them were couples. The cliché maram-chutti premam (romantic love) scenarios were all around me – the conversations, the hugs, the silent gazes, and even the occasional arguments. There were also many stray dogs napping under the shade of trees and buildings. I tried my best not to bother any of them. 

A Chocolate Ice-cream

I was parched by the time I completed one walk around the park. So I approached the stalls and bought a chocolate ice cream from one vendor for ₹60. 

I tried to strike up a conversation with the lady at the stall and asked why the government imposed so many restrictions in the place. She told me that a few years ago, someone had accidentally fallen from the rocks and died. Another person was seriously injured, too. After hearing that, the restrictions made full sense to me. The incident could have led to some public outrage, warranting these changes. I presumed.

Later, I tried to Google this incident, but couldn’t find the exact articles. However, I did come across a 2024 news article about five tourists who neglected the warning boards, got caught in the high sea waves at the Pulimutt, and were injured. The local fishermen rescued them.

After talking to the vendor, I walked around the park, enjoying my ice cream. Just then, a group of friends, possibly from the same college, arrived in two cars. Soon, the boys in the gang were busy conducting a photoshoot for their cars, and the girls wanted to leave. Still, they seemed like a cheerful bunch. They made me think – gosh, it would have been nice to come to places like this with my silly bunch of friends too.

This reminded me of Dobby’s dialogue from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: 

“What a beautiful place to be with friends. Dobby is happy to be with his friend… Harry Potter…” (If you’re not a Potterhead, please refer here for context.)

Memories

Though unintentional, I was constantly comparing my old memories of this place with the new ones. True, there are many good changes now. A new, open auditorium, many shops, new watchtower-like buildings, stringent safety measures in place… But I was badly missing the old, nostalgic version of the Pulimutt stuck in my head. 

The sea waves splashing on the rocks. Being able to climb and sit on the rocks. The silhouettes of the coconut trees against the sunset hues, but above all, those creative and rebellious graffiti…

I found myself checking for the old trees and flowery bushes. I couldn’t pinpoint their locations. Were they cut down during the renovations? Or was I just remembering it wrong? 

I thought about one of my friends from IT days, who is a native of this village. We are not in touch now. But he used to come here for his morning runs. It made me wonder.

What does he feel now when he sees this place? When the security asks him for a ₹10 entry fee for a place that was once open to everyone free of cost? Oh, the place opens only at 10 AM now, which means he can’t really come here for his morning runs anymore, can he?

It’s a weird feeling, isn’t it, when our go-to nostalgic places suddenly become commercialized? But people call it development, and of course, they are right. Don’t listen to my rants. I’m an old creature of habits who romanticizes almost everything and is lost to memories and nostalgia. 

Maybe when my old friend hears my concern, he’ll just chuckle and say, “I’m a grown adult now with plenty of other things to worry about,” or, “Not everyone clings to their teenage semi-anarchist phase like it’s a personality trait.” 

Well, he can say whatever he wants to say. Everyone has a right to their own opinion. But do you know what I’m going to do? As soon as I reach home, I’m gonna search my archives and find the old photos of this place. Maybe I can still find a few snaps of the old graffiti. 

However, while I was at the Pulimutt, I kept reminding myself not to get lost in my own thoughts and opinions. So I tuned out the nostalgia for some time and sat under an Indian almond tree near the rocks, savouring the waves and my ice cream. I couldn’t stay there for long, though, because of the mosquitoes swarming around a pile of dry leaves. I can’t afford to fall sick again so soon.

I glanced at the lighthouse and checked the college friends gang. The boys had finally stopped clicking pics of their cars, and everyone was busy posing for selfies under the banyan tree now. The only other people in the vicinity were a few local fishermen, the staff at the entrance, and the stray dogs that occasionally intimidated me. 

In between, two butterflies caught my attention. I chased one of them around the roadside plants for some time, and she graced me with an unblurred pic.

Reflections 

When the college gang left, I sat under the banyan tree (my favorite seat) for some time, still licking my ice cream and ruminating over my old thoughts. I could hear crows cawing somewhere above. 

I knew I had to leave, but I was hesitating. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what I was feeling. 

Maybe I was just missing the sunset vibes of the place. “Then why didn’t you come in the evening?” I questioned myself and promptly replied: “Safety concerns.”

I pulled up the notepad app on my phone and quickly typed: “Remember that weird feeling when your childhood home got painted. Suddenly, all the stains of your childhood mischiefs are gone. The crayon scribbles too. The walls are washed clean and painted all new. The whole place now smells of varnish and freshly cut wood. The house almost feels like a hotel now. You wonder where the old memories and smells have vanished to. 

“Like a new shoe, the house needs to be broken in again. You’ve got to live inside those walls for many years again, to rebuild that sense of familiarity and warmth. 

“Maybe places do have souls, as the Japanese people believe. Maybe a part of the soul of this place got lost during the facelift. Maybe hundreds of visitors have to walk through this Pulimutt again and again for dozens of years, laughing, loving, and creating memories, for this place to regain its lost nostalgic charm. 

“Or, maybe I’m just overthinking and overfeeling things. Maybe I need to have more realistic expectations when I visit a place. Time passes, and people change. Places too. What use is it, clinging to old memories in a new place, or searching for familiar faces in a crowd of strangers?”

I kept the phone aside and stared ahead for some time. My swimming teacher’s photo smiled at me from a small hoarding. It was an ad for his classes at D’Fort. I smiled back at it.

Maybe I need a new palette. A change of scene. Maybe it’s time for me to break out of my hometown and wander elsewhere. “Soon,” I promised myself.

Return Journey

Around 3 p.m., I finally finished my ice cream and asked the staff at the parking fee counter for directions to my next spot. “Walk straight; it’s on the right,” he said. I thanked him and left.

While walking out of the breakwater park, I saw a cute orange tabby cat with a bell on its neck. “Did you break free from your cage, too?” I wanted to ask. 

Author’s Notes:

~ Have you ever gone back to a place that once meant the world to you, only to find it changed beyond recognition? Did it break your heart a little, or did you find beauty in the change? Tell me in the comments. I’d love to hear your story.

~ All content on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ This blog is part of a series exploring my travels through my hometown, Kollam, a beautiful district in Kerala, India. You can read more posts from this series here: Kollam | Kerala | India.