An Ode to Kozhikode

I’ve been told time and time again that a city is an emotion; each city has its own flavor and love not seen anywhere else. I grudgingly accepted this whenever anyone praised their native place. But I always maintain my city is the best, and those who doubt so are ignorant. It is only when I moved to Kochi, I realized how much I love Kozhikode- The Cities lights, winding roads and Paragon! What I miss most was obviously, home. But home was Kozhikode.  The city is an emotion, a feeling that can (and still) warm(s) your heart. You get the feeling whenever someone speaks in the Kozhikodden accent. It warms your heart, to know someone from your town in a land not yours.  I even miss SM Street, the crowded and bustling place I hate, but nonetheless go to. The longing does make the heart grow fonder. A friend from Kochi never cared what I thought about his city, he always maintained that he was from Trivandrum. So he maintained till he got a college outside Kochi.   “Kochi’s the best” he says now. He can say what he wants, Kozhikode is the real place to be.

Whenever I come back from Kochi on the Jan shatabdhi, going home I see the same scenes; the Crown, the dying sounds of people at city bus station, the half- closed Paragon hotel, the dimming lights in Nadakavvu, and the ever shining Barracks. I get enveloped in a feeling of happiness even as I write this! But as muchmuch as  I love this City, I may have no right to call it my own- I was not born here, and neither my parents nor forefathers. We’re immigrants to the City of Truth. I came here when I was 2 years old, and stayed till the age of 15, when I left for Kochi. 13 years in the city. 13 years. 2 schools. Innumerable memories. A place has never meant so much to me, maybe it is because I have no identity, no place to call my own, like millions of middle class Indian children.  For long I had the Identity crisis, till she accepted me with no qualms two years ago. She became my Identity, a place I’m proud to be from; neither big nor small. Neither a metropolis nor a small town. A city of love. A city of truth. A city of food.

Talking about food, we invariably come to the Halwa. When Kozhikode became part of my identity, “Kozhikodden Halwa” was what everyone wanted. Personally, I have no liking to the halwa. But when you realize how bad the Halwa outside is, it tastes like heaven. Still I don’t like it that much. “Kozhikodden Chips” is also famous, but I never knew why till I bought a bag of chips from Kochi. (Never have I despised chips. Arghh!) The flower in your own garden never smells good¹. Except for Paragon, of course. You know they’re good wherever they are. Some even went on to say you’ll get better “Mallu food” from Bombay than they do from Kochi. Keep in mind the only experience they had with “Mallu food” is the hostel ‘Puttu’. Ah, well. One day I hope I take them to Paragon and show them who's boss.

The city never sleeps. Many know this², but a friend (who obviously is ignorant to everything but her own city) disputed it. “Of course it sleeps”, she said. Well, come over, and see for yourself. (Big-Town people, eh!).

But in the end, it’s only because some guy in KSEB decided to give my Amma a transfer to Kozhikode that I speak highly of this city. For all you know, if things were different, I’d be writing this about Kochi. No hate to Kochi, btw. I only hate the Traffic Blocks. And the Mosquitoes. (I’m not even mentioning the Autos!)

Note 1: Malayalam saying, English Equivalent would be “The Grass is greener on the other side”.

Note 2: I’m not going on a rant and not claiming all know this, but everyone from Kozhikode (and is not afraid of the night) obviously knows this.

(Special Thanks to Rose Joy for the Editing)