Impromptu Interpretation

My brain was fried after 4 days of trawling through installations at the Biennale. The heat and humidity of Kochi probably aggravated it. On the morning of the 5^th day, when we were to return, I suggested a stroll by the sea to calm my nerves. And my partner agreed readily.

So we circumambulated the Parade Ground and the Dutch Cemetery.  Fort Kochi is quaint, as quaint as Fontainhas and The French Quarter, despite not being ruled by the Portuguese or the French. I clicked away. And then I espied this charming café, actually a hole in the wall, named after the legendary mariner.

We entered and struggled to adjust our pupils to the comforting darkness. After the stroll, the hard wooden benches were even more comforting. Nobody came to take our order even after 5 minutes. When I was on the verge of becoming a restless, a voice offered to give me the menu card.  It was then I noticed the owner of the voice.

The voice belonged to a philosopher. He possessed the visage of Socrates, but for the dark rimmed glasses. Having handed over the menu card to my partner, I began to study him closely. A halo of salt and pepper hair framed his wise face. He was absorbed in chewing his breakfast, obviously relishing it.

We placed our orders; I asked for Appam with honey and bananas. My partner wanted Kerala Pancake with stuffing of coconut and jaggery. I returned to gaze at the philosopher. Something about him demolished my introverted inhibitions and I piped up – which part of the world are you from? His hand travelling towards the mouth stopped and remained suspended midair.  UK, he said after what appeared to be an interminably long pause.

Our orders arrived and over tasty morsels we got to know him. He has been living in India for nearly a dozen years, volunteering at Pondicherry. Why do you love my country, I managed to ask him. He took his time to answer, rolling around the morsel in his mouth. Because there are no rules, he said finally. He must have noticed my startled expression, because he hastened to add – traffic for example.  You look left, you look right and then move forward, he expounded on our driving.

Here was a computer engineer, for that was his vocation, preferring chaos over order. Over the last 100 hours, many installations at the Biennale had tried to interpret the meaning of life in different ways. But this impromptu interpretation of life in that café is what I will cherish most fondly.