September 20, 2025, Saturday
Day 10/30. Time seemed to fly. I couldn’t believe I had already spent one-third of my intended time at Trivandrum. Yes, I had covered some important spots in East Fort, Palayam, and Veli by then, but my three roommates, Di, Sou, and KP, and their friends kept on recommending new and exciting spots daily. So, like Arya Stark’s kill list, my to-visit list grew longer every day.
A friend to the rescue!
KP – yes, the same roommate who shared her Sreepadmanabha Swamy temple experience with me – is also a fellow reader/book lover. I had told her about my fantasy of living in Palayam, enrolling for membership in the Kerala State Public Library, and reading every day. So imagine my joy and surprise when she shared her plans to take a membership in the state library and accompany me on a Palayam trip. Hip hip hurray!
At that point, even a self-proclaimed loner and introvert like me had learned the hard way that while solitude can be beneficial, you shouldn’t take human connections for granted. After ten days of solo trips, I felt so grateful to go on a trip with a friend.
An umbrella and a duckling!
On September 20th, around 10:30 in the morning, KP and I travelled to Kazhakkoottam together and got a few forms printed for her library membership. It was drizzling. KP, in her petite frame and long ponytail, holding onto a big grandpa umbrella in the rain, reminded me of a cute duckling. Here’s exactly how I saw her.
We boarded a low-floor AC bus to Palayam and visited the Zam Zam restaurant together. She had some biriyani, while I gorged on ghee rice, chicken curry, and ginger lime. The food was so yummy, we were silent until we wiped our plates clean and chuckled at ourselves.
Kerala State Library
Later, we walked to the public library. The security staff at the entrance asked us to return after an hour or two, as their lunch break was about to begin in 15 minutes. I would have folded, but since it wasn’t lunch time yet, KP insisted that they should take her form.
Not to generalize, but all the petite women I know are fierce, my elder sister and paternal grandma included.
The staff accepted her form with a sigh but insisted we return after lunch break to complete the formalities and borrow books. KP agreed. We spent the next half hour exploring one of my favorite spots in Palayam, the row of second-hand bookstores near the library.
Kerala Lalitha Kala Akademi
We tried to walk to the next spot on my list, the Kerala Lalitha Kala Akademi. But when Google Maps and our combined navigational skills confused the hell out of us, KP and I took an auto to the Akademi. It turned out to be a wise decision, because we were walking in the opposite direction.
“Kerala Lalithakala Akademi, established in 1962 to conserve and promote visual arts: painting, sculpture, architecture, and graphics, is an autonomous cultural organization of the Government of Kerala. Today, the Akademi is a centre for cultural, artistic, and educational activities, spilling over to other fields such as cartoon and photography.”
The Kerala Lalithakala Akademi has multiple branches in Kerala. Its Trivandrum branch is located in Nanthancode near the Vylopilly Samskriti Bhavan on Nalanada Lane.
The auto easily covered the approximate 2km distance between the library and the Akademi in no time. The driver levied only Rs 40 as fare, which KP and I found reasonable.
Art Exhibition
Luckily, I had already read a news article about an art exhibition, titled “When leaves rustle in cool breeze,” happening at the Chithrasala Art Gallery, inside the Akademi. It was the last day of the exhibition.
I didn’t know then that ‘Fall and Decay’ was the central theme of the exhibition. Fall or Autumn is my favorite season. Even as mere colors, I gravitate towards the autumn shades of red, brown, and yellow a lot. Orange? Great color, but not so much on me.
A swan woman cuddling a swan, brown men and women working in brown fields, the textures and shades of charcoal paintings, the watermelon purse showing support to Palestine, a spiral of thick hair just like Rapunzel’s hair rope extended to her prince, the lavender flowers and chai stains, the orange-brown leaves around an eggless bird nest, and a wooden installation, burned and hollowed out to represent a smiling woman overburdened with household chores were a few of the paintings and other exhibits that grabbed my attention and heart.
Artists in disguise
KP and I stood in front of every painting and installation, stared for a while, and shared our views and ideas. Only then did I learn she was deeply interested in art. In fact, she was an artist herself. She showed me a few intricate sketches she had completed.
“You’re so good,” I insisted, but she brushed it away, saying, “I take a lot of time to complete each sketch. With the IT work and adult responsibilities, it’s difficult to find time.”
Oh, the number of writers, artists, musicians, dancers, and sportspeople India has lost to the IT field is unimaginable and so unfair.
Koothambalam
Later, we explored various wall paintings and stone pavilions inside the campus. We clicked photos of each other, standing in front of these spots.
In one of these buildings, the inaugural dance of many teenage danseuses was about to happen. We sneaked inside the half-auditorium-like, half-koothambalam-like space.
The cameras were set up; the stage decorations were in progress. Many elderly ladies in Kancheepuram silk sarees were sitting in the front rows. Some of them were renowned classical dancers and dance gurus of the girls performing that day.
The dances didn’t start until much later. The students’ hair and facial makeup were in progress. The hall was slowly filling up with the who’s who of classical dance in Trivandrum, the students of the Kerala Lalithakala Akademi, their parents, relatives, and friends.
Humble superstars
Even though these people realized that KP and I were just strangers exploring the akademi for the first time, they offered us tea and snacks and invited us to stay back to watch the dances. We politely declined. But I thought it was such a sweet gesture.
In Kannan Devan tea’s advertisement, Mohanlal, one of the GOATS of the Malayalam industry, says, “Uyaram koodum thorum chayayude swadhu koodum,” the higher the altitude, the better the tea.
I wish we could say the same about all celebrities. Usually, the greater their fame, success, or wealth, the bigger their egos and arrogance. But imagine a world where all the superstars, even at the height of their careers, were kind and humble humans first.
I smiled at those senior gurus, who were at the peak of their careers and lives, but still chose to be sweet to two unknown girls. That’s the kind of success and wealth I aspire to have.
Another surprise? Turns out, KP’s mom is a classical dancer, too. Funny, isn’t it, how many new things we learn about our friends, just by going on a trip with them?
Vylopilly’s Mambazaham
Before bidding the place goodbye, we checked out the paintings on the walls of the Vylopilly Samskriti Bhavan. It is a building constructed in honor of the renowned Indian poet of Malayalam literature, Vylopilly Sreedhara Menon. One of the paintings depicted Vylopilly’s famous poem, “Mambazaham” (Ripen Mango).
Many Keralites can recite the entire poem from memory. Just hearing the first line is enough to get us emotional.
“Angana thaimaavil ninnadhythe pazham veezhke
Ammathan nethrathil ninnuthirnnu chudu kanneer.”
“As the courtyard tree drops its first ripe mango,
hot tears spill from a mother’s eyes.
Context of the poem: For the mother, the fallen fruit is a painful reminder of her deceased son and a small argument they had four months back. She had scolded him for mischievously hitting the mango blossoms with a stick. In response, the tearful boy had sworn he would never touch the fruit. He passed away before the blossoms could ripen, leaving his vow tragically unbroken. The poem thrives on this devastating irony.”
We, Malayalees, are creatures of nostalgia. We find joy in romanticising little things like mangoes, monsoon rains, fallen flowers, old poems, playing cricket in paddy fields, and the film songs we sing aloud in toddy shops.
Back to the library
When I suggested we walk all the way from the Lalithakala Akademi to the State Library, a distance slightly more than 2km, KP readily agreed. We took a short juice-and-snacks break before starting the return walk, but by the time we reached the library, she was exhausted. I cursed myself for the stupid decision to walk, as I had pushed her too hard.
Up until my IT years, I never really cared about my fitness. Working 9-14 hours daily, glued to my office desktop, stress and anxiety wrecking my sleep and food cycles, my 3.8 years in the IT field had left me struggling with physical ailments that necessitated exercise. My brother and cousins included me in their home workouts, but I gave up soon.
Walking was my one redeeming quality. In the end, it was regular, long walks that helped me regain my health.
KP, who also worked in IT, was just like my older IT version. Her life was split between her AC room in the office and the small bed in our hostel room. The sun and the long, impulsive walk had taken a toll on her body. Her face was scarlet red, sweat trickling down, and panting by the time she entered the library. I wished I were more empathetic to her.
Being alone pushes us to become more independent and stronger. However, spending time with people teaches us the importance of empathy, communication, and even compromise. Both are important in life. Without solitude, we wouldn’t mature and grow. Without human connections, we would lose the soft side of our hearts.
Winding up
I sat on a bench outside the library, scrolling through my social media feed. I couldn’t browse or borrow books as I didn’t have a membership yet. To my surprise, soon after finishing the joining formalities, KP joined me on the bench outside. She was so tired and nauseated, she didn’t have the energy to browse for books. I felt guilty for her state.
This time, I didn’t even bring up walking; I knew better. We took an auto to the PMG junction. From there, we hopped on a bus to Kazhakoottum. Luckily, KP got a seat soon and was able to rest throughout the long bus ride.
At Kazhakoottam, we entered a store and bought some snacks. I stocked up on glucose, a sanitizer, Snickers, and many sugary biscuits because I had a trek the next day. KP pointed out that I was overpacking and the sugary snacks were not suitable for strenuous treks. But at that time, I was hyperfocused on the post-trek hunger my friends had warned me about.
My initial plan was to rest on the day before the trek, as I scarcely sleep on the nights before pre-booked trips. But KP and I had ended up walking close to 10k steps. No wonder she was exhausted.
I worried that I might become a liability to my trekking group the next day. I still had to figure out my transport to the Thampanoor railway station early in the morning, where I was supposed to meet the other group members. Luckily, one of the trekkers came to my rescue.
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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