September 11, 2025
Finally, the last blog of an ultraeventful day at East Fort, spanning a long walk through Chalai Bazaar, exploring Gandhi Park, photographing Sreepadmanabhaswamy temple, and ticking off my childhood dream of watching a circus show. The day was still young, just half past three in the evening, and I had energy to wander more, but I was famished.
Since I had already paid for a month’s accommodation and food at the hostel, I was determined to grab my lunch from there to save money. Sweltering under the hot sun, I was also yearning for a cold shower and a short nap on my cosy bed. There was one catch, though. I still had one more destination on my day’s itinerary.
Thampanoor
Thampanoor is the central travel hub of Trivandrum, where the district’s busiest railway station and the KSRTC bus stand are situated. It’s also famous for its good hotels, restaurants, and cinema theatres.
Sipping water from my bottle, I walked from Puthirikkandam Maithanam in East Fort to Thampanoor. It’s a one-stop distance in private buses. On the way, I saw the Sree Pazhavangady Mahaganapathy temple. As the name suggests, the temple’s main deity is Lord Ganesha.
Many famous textile shops, such as Pothyees and Jayalakshmi, are also located nearby. The streets reminded me of my IT days, when I used to frequent these textile shops with my girls’ gang, especially that one time we went lehenga shopping for my flatmate’s engagement.
Waiting for a Stranger’s Bus
When I reached the bus stop near the temple, an elderly woman grabbed my hand. Her hand was wrinkled and frail, but it was so soft. I was unnerved by this sudden touch, but I relaxed when I realised it was only a harmless grandma.
“Moley (Daughter), my eyesight is poor. Can you tell me whether there’s a Kattakada bus at the bus stop now?” she asked, still holding onto my hand.
I held her hand reassuringly, but struggled to stifle a chuckle. No offence to the grandma or the place, but the word ‘Kattakada’ immediately brought an intrusive thought to my mind. A hilarious scene from the 2018 satirical Malayalam movie ‘Njan Prakashan,’ involving a nonsensical book named ‘Chakkilakapetta Poocha,’ literally meaning ‘A Cat Trapped in a Sack,’ written by the fictional author, Kattakkada Thankappan.
Brushing away my intrusive thoughts, I concentrated on reading the signboards of each halting bus out loud. “Kattakada alla,” “not Kattakada,” the grandma kept mumbling in response. Finally, when the Kattakada bus rolled to the stop, I spotted it from a distance and excitedly informed her. Grandma’s squinted eyes lit up with a smile before she bid a quick bye and scampered to the bus.
Watching her board the bus, my lips curved into a smile. I realised that a few moments ago, I was immensely happy, just standing next to the grandma, holding onto her shivering hands, and reading out the place names to her. That simple act of waiting with a stranger for her bus had healed or at least started to heal an old wound in me.
Old Wounds
During the holy mass, Christians say the Prayer of Confession, or the Confiteor, by gently beating their chests three times. We pray,
“I confess to almighty God
and to you, my brothers and sisters,
that I have greatly sinned,
in my thoughts and in my words,
in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,
through my fault, through my fault,
through my most grievous fault;
therefore I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin,
all the Angels and Saints,
and you, my brothers and sisters,
to pray for me to the Lord our God.”
A human can commit sins not just through their thoughts, words, and actions, but also through denial. All the good acts we fail to do are also sins; they make us guilty of the sin of rejection or omission. In this busy world, where most people are struggling to make a living, it’s easy to commit such sins.
Imagine you’re hurrying to work, and a stranger asks you for help on the subway. Despite your good intentions, you might be forced to say “sorry” because of the time crunch.
If I were still working in the IT field and that grandma had asked me for help on a busy Monday morning or any weekday, just like the rabbit in ‘Alice in Wonderland’, I would’ve been forced to say – “Sorry, I’m running late. I have a bus to catch or a meeting to be in.”
I thanked the universe for the totally different circumstances this time. Having the time to wait with her felt like the biggest luxury in the world.
Drunkards & More Sins of Omission
Once the grandma left, I resumed my walk towards Thampanoor. The sight of a drunken man, sleeping on the roadside, with flies swarming his body, disturbed me. Was he dead or alive? I didn’t know for sure. I stood rooted to the spot, observing him for some time. The slow ebb and fall of his chest filled me with relief.
By then, I had reached the Trivandrum Railway Mail and Parcel service building. I walked past the sleeping man but came across another man, bare-chested, with just a lungi loosely tied around his waist, lying on the pavement. A half-eaten meal – rice and some curries, wrapped in newspaper, lay open next to him. Flies and ants were crawling into the rice.
Did he fall asleep in the middle of eating his meal? Was he drunk? Can he afford to waste this meal? Does he have enough money to return home or buy another meal? I worried.
Alcoholic dads, who vomit or fall asleep on the roadside pavements, who beat their wives and kids, are a familiar image in Indian streets, movies and books. Even in one of the recent Malayalam novels I read, Pattunoolpuzhu, written by the renowned writer S Hareesh, the protagonist, a young boy named Samsa, walks every night to the Toddy shop to bring his inebriated father home. No kid should have to do that. No family should have to endure that. No human should let addictions waste their potential or ruin their relationships. If only.
Beyond their current intoxicated states, I wondered what these men were going through. What were they hoping to forget by drowning themselves in alcohol? A personal tragedy? Financial issues? A system that has no regard for them? A mistake they can’t forgive themselves for?
Maybe the only question I should’ve asked myself is: how can I help them? But like a coward, I walked past them, scared to get involved with such intoxicated men, committing more sins of omission.
Indian Coffee House
Soon, I could see the red-bricked Indian Coffee House building across the road. It’s part of a chain of restaurants in India. The waiters in these restaurants still wear a British colonial-era-inspired uniform – a crisp white shirt, white trousers, and a turban. Chicken biriyani, beetroot masala dosas, cutlets, vadas, lemon juice, tea and coffee are some of the most popular dishes and my personal favourites.
This particular Indian Coffee House building was designed by the renowned British-Indian architect Laurie Baker. Known as the Gandhi of Architecture, he is a pioneer of sustainable and organic architecture who focused on cost and energy-efficient designs. Constructed like a tower from the outside, inside, the floors are structured like an ascending spiral, with stone tables and benches with granite tops attached to the walls and floors. Though my friends love this design, contained spaces often make me feel uncomfortable and unsteady, so I prefer buildings with larger rooms and wider windows.
End of Day One
Later, standing at the bus stop, waiting for a Kazhakoottam bus, I could see the KSRTC bus station, Trivandrum corporation’s multi-floored parking building, and the nearby railway station. I watched the stream of people moving in and out of the city, through buses, trains, and cars. All kinds of people, from different spheres of life, from different states of India, some even from foreign countries, arriving and departing from Thampanoor.
I chuckled, realising all these people had somewhere to go, somewhere they had to be in a few hours or days. I, on the other hand, had no intention of going anywhere in particular, but also hoped to go everywhere. I want to go to every nook and cranny of this world, if I could. I saw a pigeon strutting and hopping on the ground, instead of flying. I wondered if she was hurt or just taking a break.
The funny thing about Indian transport is that when you’re waiting for one bus, every other bus shows up first. I saw a stream of Kilimanoor buses before my Kazhakoottam bus arrived. I started my return journey at 4:30 PM. But this time, the route was different. This bus travelled from Thampanoor to Pattam, to Medical College Road, to Ulloor, to Sreekaryam, to Karyavattom, and finally, Kazhakoottam. So I had to take another bus from there to Attinkuzhy to reach my hostel.
Time – a Luxury
Back at the hostel, I quickly freshened up, had the lunch I had kept aside in my tiffin box, and relaxed for the rest of the day – reading, scrolling through social media, and at night, creating an itinerary for the next day. I didn’t forget to whisper a quiet thank you to God, not just for the places I had seen and the people I had met, but also for all the unhurried moments in between.
We live in a world designed to rush, where time is a luxury. Like my favourite author, Vaikom Muhammed Basheer, often reminds us: our time in this world is limited; only God has infinite time in his treasury. So I thanked the Almighty for lending me enough time to live my life, and to pause and savour this world.
Author’s Notes
~ All content on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © 2026 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.
~ This blog is part of a series exploring my travels through Trivandrum, the capital city of my home state, Kerala, in India. You can read more posts from this series here. Trivandrum | Kerala| India
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