Joyce Job's Blog, page 2

Travel Diaries: A Rainy Walk Through Asramam Maidan

20 July 2025

The Walkway Around Asramam Maidan.

“മുറ്റത്തെ മുല്ലയ്‌ക്ക് മണമില്ല (Muttathe Mullaykku Manamilla)” is a popular saying in my mother tongue, Malayalam. Its literal translation is “The jasmine in one’s garden has no scent.” It implies that we often lose respect for or take for granted things and people that are too familiar to us. A popular English proverb with a similar meaning is “Familiarity breeds contempt.”

The main reason I added familiar places like ‘Asramam Maidan’ to my very long India trip itinerary was to break this negative bias. 

Asramam Maidan

Rain-drenched Pathways of Asramam Maidan.

For context: “Asramam Maidan is an urban park at the heart of my hometown, Kollam in Kerala, India. A large, open area with lush, green trees surrounding it, this ground is one of the green lungs of the city.

It regularly hosts cultural and sports events and is the main training hub of all the driving school operators in Kollam. It has a 2.3 km walkway constructed around it, facilitated for jogging and running.” 

Fun fact: “Did you know that Asramam Maidan was used as an aerodrome during the British colonial period? It was in use until the commissioning and development of the Trivandrum airport. Now it has two large helipads.”

I’ve been to this park scores of times with my family, mainly for evening walks or to attend cultural events. In those visits, I always appreciated the clean air, the lush green trees, and the calm ambience of the park. However, I never observed it with the keen eyes of a tourist.

So, on 20th July, a Sunday, when my sibling told me he was on his way to Asramam to get a haircut, I hitchhiked with him.  In my opinion, we must never waste an opportunity to irritate our siblings, especially when it comes with free benefits like reducing our travel expenses and carbon footprint. In Kerala, we call this sneaky act of securing free benefits at the expense of others “ഓസ്സ് (Auss)”. 

If hitchhiking isn’t an option, these travel instructions will help you get there. 

How to Reach Asramam by Public Transport?

From Kollam Railway Station, board a bus to Chinnakada Private Stand. Then board an Asramam or Ilamballoor-bound private bus and get down at the Asramam Maidan stop. From the Kollam KSRTC Stand, Asramam Maidan is situated at a walkable distance of approximately 1.5 km, or you can take an auto.

Encounter With Strays

Asramam Maidan – Wrecked by Rain.

When we reached the Asramam Maidan road, it was congested due to the long queue of cars that had arrived for a wedding function at the Younus Convention Centre. My brother dropped me near the popular Kallu Soda shop. 

As soon as he drove off, an Indian pariah dog, brown with black stripes, started barking ferociously at me. I wondered why he looked so pissed off. I quickly crossed the road to avoid a mishap, but it continued glaring and barking at me in full throttle. 

Just then, another stray, this time a black and white one, trotted towards my side. The second dog didn’t bark at all, but was staring at me and continued walking straight towards me, as if expecting to be petted. I was already unnerved and didn’t know what to do. Luckily, the uncles and chetanmar(brothers), sitting on the nearby benches, intervened and shooed it away.

You wouldn’t believe it, but it happened a third time. Again, a pariah dog, this time fully brown with occasional furless patches on its body, approached me. However, an uncle sitting on the nearby bench assured me, “It’s okay, Moley(daughter). Keep walking. It won’t hurt you,” and that’s just what I did.

I wondered what was wrong. The dogs seemed agitated. Were they hungry or irritated? Or was it because of the rainy weather (Karkidakamasam)? 

Just then, I realized I was wearing a black-and-white (zebra) animal print top. “God, did I just walk away from a territorial dispute with an angry dog? Don’t tell me they mistook me for a fellow stray, or an enemy dog from a rival gang!” I wondered for a second. Soon, I chuckled and shook my head no. “No way.  Dogs are smarter than that.” 

Anyway, I was so grateful for everyone who stepped in to help me. The only reason I feel safe in my lone walks and solo trips is because of the kind humans on the streets.   

Rainy Paths

Asramam Maidan on a Rainy Day.

Like I said, I have visited this ground many times in the past for my evening walks. The trees and the fresh breeze here are a stress-buster for me. Usually, this place is filled with people from all walks of life, either attending their driving classes, taking their driving tests on the ground, or enjoying a leisurely walk like me. 

But this time, the rainy weather had deterred most of them. So, I mentally cheered for those iron-willed people who did show up for their driving classes. I watched them drive the heavy vehicles and four-wheelers with L boards with awe, ‘coz I don’t drive. I hope someday I will overcome my inhibitions and strike it off my to-do list. 

One of my favorite things to do in parks or grounds like this is to stand under a thick tree and stare at the sky through its leaves. Like Phunsukh Wangdu says in the 3 Idiots movie, here’s the demo:

Gazing at the Sky Through the Leaves of a Dense Tree.

Unfortunately, that’s a risky game on sunny days, because there are crows on most trees, and if you’re not careful, you might end up getting splashed by their excrement. 

Appukkuttan and Crows Never Get Along!
A scene from the famous Malayalam Comedy, In Harihar Nagar. Credits: makeagif

Maybe because it was a rainy day, the trees were devoid of crows, and hence the risky splashes. I could stroll and stare at leisure, even under the densest trees. 

I must say, Asramam Maidan in its rain-drenched avatar looked even more pristine and beautiful. Though the main ground looked wrecked by rain, the wet cobbled pathways, the tree leaves drizzling with raindrops, the half tree-trunk-shaped benches too damp to sit on, and of course, the intellectually scintillating Ashtashilpa or Eight sculptures and wall engravings were not just a treat to my eyes, but to my heart and soul as well. 

The Eight Sculptures 

Asramam Maidan – a Heritage Walkway.

Asramam Maidan is also a heritage walkway. In 2020, Kerala Lalitha Kala Akademi Kollam, in association with DTPC, conducted ‘Ashtashilpa’, a ten-day sculpture camp at Kollam Asramam grounds. As part of this, ashtashilpa or eight concrete-based sculptures were constructed by Malayali sculptors, based on the eight directions of Ashtamudi Lake. According to Wikipedia, these sculptures and their respective sculptors are:

Kuravanum Kurathiyum by Guruprasad Ayyappan (Kollam)Mother and Child by KV Jyothilal (Kollam)Winter Morning by V. Satheesan (Thiruvananthapuram)Two Horses by KRT Tinu (Kannur)One of Us by Pramod Gopalakrishnan (Thrissur)Peache Ki Or by Sanu Ramakrishnan (Vaikkam)Imagining Human by Giri Vasudevan (Idukki)From The Margin by Schenley (Collam)

I was able to identify a few of them at the Maidan. Perhaps you can help me with the rest? 

Please refer to my photo album ‘Sculptures at Asramam Maidan’ to see the images of the sculptures.

The Wall Engravings

Battle of Quilon 1809 as depicted in a wall engraving.

In addition to the sculptures, Asramam Maidan also has numerous wall engravings that depict historical and cultural events important to Kollam, like Quilon Lahala 1809, Inauguration of the Kollam Harbour in AD 825, Strength testing of Punalur Hanging Bridge using elephants, Seethakali, native to Perinad,  Scenes from Old Cashew Processing unit, etc. 

The Strength Testing of Punalur Hanging Bridge Using Elephants.

Return Journey

Before long, I got a call from my brother, asking if I was done with my walk. Soon, he picked me up in his car, and we had tender coconut from the roadside stall. He showed me a house with bougainvilleas in bloom, and asked: “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

But soon, heavy rains fell, forcing my brother and me to hurry to the car, and all the stray dogs to huddle under a blue tarpaulin shed. I chuckled as we settled into our seats. 

“Nature, don’t tell me you were waiting for me to finish my walk before pouring down the rain. Having fun, are you?” Being imaginative and delusionally optimistic is how I’ve managed to survive three decades in this world. 

Rain-drenched Kollam City.

Have you ever felt your hometown looks so much more alluring in the rain, or is it just me? I’d love to hear how your native place changes in the rain: muddy or magical?

Author’s Notes

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

Photo Album: Sculptures at Asramam Maidan, Kollam

As if tree branches wove themselves into art.Front view of the sculpture Peache Ki Or by Sanu RamakrishnanBack view of the sculpture Peache Ki Or by Sanu RamakrishnanLike a boat pulled to the dock.Slave Horses – Two Horses by KRT TinuWinter Morning by V. SatheesanMother and Child by KV JyothilalKuravanum Kurathiyum by Guruprasad Ayyappan

Author’s Note:

~ All content, including images, on this post is the intellectual property of the author. © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ In 2020, Kerala Lalitha Kala Akademi Kollam, in association with DTPC, conducted ‘Ashtashilpa’, a ten-day sculpture camp at Kollam Asramam grounds. As part of this, ashtashilpa or eight concrete-based sculptures were constructed by Malayali sculptors, based on the eight directions of Ashtamudi Lake. According to Wikipedia, these sculptures and their respective sculptors are:

Kuravanum Kurathiyum by Guruprasad Ayyappan (Kollam)Mother and Child by KV Jyothilal (Kollam)Winter Morning by V. Satheesan (Thiruvananthapuram)Two Horses by KRT Tinu (Kannur)One of Us by Pramod Gopalakrishnan (Thrissur)Peache Ki Or by Sanu Ramakrishnan (Vaikkam)Imagining Human by Giri Vasudevan (Idukki)From The Margin by Schenley (Collam)

~ Do these sculptures remind you of other images or sculptures you’ve seen in your part of the world? I’d love to hear what they bring to your mind.

Book Review: Your Next Five Moves by Patrick Bet-David with Greg Dinkin.

Your Next Five Moves

A fair disclaimer. 

This is not a proper book review. Just a shoutout to the book, “Your Next Five Moves,” which I personally enjoyed, along with a list of my favorite learnings from it.All quotes in the review below are excerpts from “Your Next Five Moves.”Please note: my review reflects only the content of this book. I do not endorse the author’s business activities or political views. 

At least in India, most of us 9-to-5ers think about starting our own business, especially when the quarter-life crisis hits us in the gut. On a funny note, do you even qualify as an Indian youngster if you haven’t dreamt of opening a tea shop selling Indian tea and snacks in a foreign country and quitting your highly stressful IT career? 

Some of us even take the bold step of starting our own small businesses, such as bakeries, online clothes stores, or event planning companies. While one in a hundred actually gives their dreams a chance, many articles circulating online claim that barely one in a thousand turns it into a successful venture. 

While the credibility of such sources and the statistics on which their sweeping observations are based are debatable, one thing remains clear. The failure rates of business ventures are high, and so is the probability of incurring financial losses. But reality rarely stops the brave dreamers from forging their own path and pushing through difficult times, right? 

In my twenties, my old roommate and I used to dream about starting a quaint bookshop-cum-pastry-cafe. Of course, I was supposed to take care of the bookshop, and she was meant to be the pastry chef. Cut to the thirties, safe to say that our combined dream will never materialize. But I still hold onto the dream of having a bookshop or online store someday. What’s life without dreams?

As someone with negligible business experience, a few worries that plague my mind when I think about starting a business are:

What business will I start? Or specifically, what product or service will I sell? Will I be able to turn my business into a profitable venture? Or will I drown in debts?Do I have the knowledge, skills, and expertise to start a business?Do I have the money to start a business?Do I have the right mindset and people to start a business? 

If you’re an experienced entrepreneur or someone who is only looking for the answer to the first four questions, then this book may not be the right choice for you. But if you’re a newbie or wannabe entrepreneur who is trying hard to build the right mindset to start and nurture a business, this book could be a treasure trove for you.

The subtitle of the book, “Your Next Five Moves,” says “Master the Art of Business Strategy.” Though it claims to be a Business Strategy book, my humble opinion is that this book is more self-help than business strategy. 

The book is divided into five sections, each discussing the mastery of a different area, namely:

Knowing YourselfThe Ability to ReasonBuilding the Right TeamStrategy to ScalePowerplays 

Here are my three key takeaways from the book.

The key idea of the book: “Think Five Moves Ahead.”

“People who don’t think more than one move ahead are driven by ego, emotion, and fear.”

As children, at school or in our families, we were often taught to think about our future and to have a positive attitude towards life. However, at least in India, our upbringing and educational system often fail to equip us for real lives. 

Sure, most of us learn how to pass school exams with high scores, crack highly competitive entrance exams to prestigious colleges, and secure a high-paying job. But what do we do when we fail an exam, when we don’t crack that IIT or UPSC exam, or don’t secure a job after college? 

What do we do when our best friend suddenly stops talking to us or misunderstands us unfairly? What do we do when the person we believe to be the love of our life rejects our proposal and marries another person? What do we do when we can’t handle the stress and anxiety at our job, or when our dream business venture fails?

No one teaches us how to handle failures, disappointments, relationship issues, heartbreaks, financial losses, depression, or anxiety. We all learn it the hard way. 

The author advises us to always think five moves ahead in life, no matter what decision we’re making or what crossroads we’re at. While we think five moves ahead, like a chess player, we also need to include the failure scenarios. 

“Why only five moves ahead? Five moves is the sweet spot of thoughtful strategy and swift action. Thinking too many moves ahead can lead to paralysis by analysis. Five moves is enough to make sure you are anticipating future outcomes and seeing moves and countermoves.”

Let’s consider a simple example. Suppose I buy a lottery ticket. Of course, I must have a concrete plan on how I will spend or invest the money if I win it. But what’s my plan if I don’t win that lottery, or if I win a meagre amount that’s insufficient to fulfill my ultimate dreams? Then what course of action will I take? Should I stay at my 9-5 job, start a side hustle, and only occasionally put my hopes on lotteries again, or should I stop buying lotteries forever? 

2. “Alignment Is the Key to Fulfilment.”

Your vision must align with who you want to be.Your choices must align with your vision.Your effort must align with the size of your vision.Your behavior must align with your values and principles.

Are you chasing a dream, a goal, a career, or a relationship that is not in alignment with who you are as a person? In order to succeed, fit in, or become famous, are you making choices that contradict your values and principles? 

Are you truly happy? Or are you constantly feeling angry, irritated, envious, or unhappy?  

Is the effort you are putting into achieving your goals matching the grandiosity of the vision you’ve set for yourself? With the current efforts, will you be able to complete your goals within the deadlines you’ve set for yourself? 

Or is your dream and its deadline too unrealistic and grandiose that you need to lower your expectations to match it with your current efforts? Or should you increase your efforts and work ethic to meet or exceed your goals? 

These are some important questions we need to continuously ask ourselves to lead a fulfilling life, as well as to run a successful business that stands the test of time. 

“When you’re honest about who you are, you learn to stop wanting everything. Envy is an indicator that alerts you if you’re being honest with yourself. What it’s telling you is that you really do want it but are afraid to work for it. 

You’ll know you are living the best version of yourself when your reaction to the success of others, including those who have things you don’t have, is feeling happy for them. Again, if you feel envy, it’s an indicator that either you’re lying to yourself about what you want or you lack the discipline to accomplish it.”

3. “Four Levels of Trust.”

“The world of business is tough. People don’t always play fair. Some of them are flat-out crooks. Some have no problem telling you what you want to hear while doing the opposite. 

The onus is on you for allowing yourself to be hustled. You’re smarter than that. In fact, you should be able to figure out the level of trust you should have with anyone, be it customer, employee, business partner, or supplier.” 

The author advises us to categorize people according to four levels of trust:

StrangerEndorsed TrustedRunning Mate

Categorize people as “Strangers” when you have zero experience with them. Instinctively, they may seem trustworthy, charming, friendly, and even talk a good game. But don’t trust them until you know more about them. 

The “Endorsed” category is for individuals who arrive with a strong track record and positive recommendations from others. However, recommendations can be biased or even outright dishonest. Don’t label this category of people as “Trusted” until you’ve had personal experience with them, and they prove they are indeed trustworthy. 

Consider a person as “Trusted” only after you’ve witnessed their behaviour firsthand and found them consistently demonstrating loyalty, honesty, and reliability.  

“Running Mate” is the highest category of trust. We’re unlikely to find more than one individual who fits this description. This is the professional equivalent of a best friend/ life partner. That one person whom we can call whenever we are going through a problem, and their immediate response will be, “What can I do to help you?” The kind of person who will move mountains to assist you. 

In business, even if someone falls under the “Trusted” category, continue monitoring them. Because naivety is an expensive mistake, and your blind trust in someone could someday cost you your entire business.

There are so many more pearls of wisdom in this book, but it would be unfair to the author if I listed them all here. So I encourage all of you, especially my friends and readers who have entrepreneurial dreams, to read the full book.  Build that business you’ve been dreaming about, and may the knowledge in this book give you the leverage you need!

Author’s Notes

~ © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ If you read the book, please let me know in the comments whether you enjoyed it and what your favorite takeaway was. 

Book Review: Your Next Five Moves by Patrick Bet-Davis with Greg Dinkin.

Your Next Five Moves

A fair disclaimer. 

This is not a proper book review. Just a shoutout to the book, “Your Next Five Moves,” which I personally enjoyed, along with a list of my favorite learnings from it.All quotes in the review below are excerpts from “Your Next Five Moves.”Please note: my review reflects only the content of this book. I do not endorse the author’s business activities or political views. 

At least in India, most of us 9-to-5ers think about starting our own business, especially when the quarter-life crisis hits us in the gut. On a funny note, do you even qualify as an Indian youngster if you haven’t dreamt of opening a tea shop selling Indian tea and snacks in a foreign country and quitting your highly stressful IT career? 

Some of us even take the bold step of starting our own small businesses, such as bakeries, online clothes stores, or event planning companies. While one in a hundred actually gives their dreams a chance, many articles circulating online claim that barely one in a thousand turns it into a successful venture. 

While the credibility of such sources and the statistics on which their sweeping observations are based are debatable, one thing remains clear. The failure rates of business ventures are high, and so is the probability of incurring financial losses. But reality rarely stops the brave dreamers from forging their own path and pushing through difficult times, right? 

In my twenties, my old roommate and I used to dream about starting a quaint bookshop-cum-pastry-cafe. Of course, I was supposed to take care of the bookshop, and she was meant to be the pastry chef. Cut to the thirties, safe to say that our combined dream will never materialize. But I still hold onto the dream of having a bookshop or online store someday. What’s life without dreams?

As someone with negligible business experience, a few worries that plague my mind when I think about starting a business are:

What business will I start? Or specifically, what product or service will I sell? Will I be able to turn my business into a profitable venture? Or will I drown in debts?Do I have the knowledge, skills, and expertise to start a business?Do I have the money to start a business?Do I have the right mindset and people to start a business? 

If you’re an experienced entrepreneur or someone who is only looking for the answer to the first four questions, then this book may not be the right choice for you. But if you’re a newbie or wannabe entrepreneur who is trying hard to build the right mindset to start and nurture a business, this book could be a treasure trove for you.

The subtitle of the book, “Your Next Five Moves,” says “Master the Art of Business Strategy.” Though it claims to be a Business Strategy book, my humble opinion is that this book is more self-help than business strategy. 

The book is divided into five sections, each discussing the mastery of a different area, namely:

Knowing YourselfThe Ability to ReasonBuilding the Right TeamStrategy to ScalePowerplays 

Here are my three key takeaways from the book.

The key idea of the book: “Think Five Moves Ahead.”

“People who don’t think more than one move ahead are driven by ego, emotion, and fear.”

As children, at school or in our families, we were often taught to think about our future and to have a positive attitude towards life. However, at least in India, our upbringing and educational system often fail to equip us for real lives. 

Sure, most of us learn how to pass school exams with high scores, crack highly competitive entrance exams to prestigious colleges, and secure a high-paying job. But what do we do when we fail an exam, when we don’t crack that IIT or UPSC exam, or don’t secure a job after college? 

What do we do when our best friend suddenly stops talking to us or misunderstands us unfairly? What do we do when the person we believe to be the love of our life rejects our proposal and marries another person? What do we do when we can’t handle the stress and anxiety at our job, or when our dream business venture fails?

No one teaches us how to handle failures, disappointments, relationship issues, heartbreaks, financial losses, depression, or anxiety. We all learn it the hard way. 

The author advises us to always think five moves ahead in life, no matter what decision we’re making or what crossroads we’re at. While we think five moves ahead, like a chess player, we also need to include the failure scenarios. 

“Why only five moves ahead? Five moves is the sweet spot of thoughtful strategy and swift action. Thinking too many moves ahead can lead to paralysis by analysis. Five moves is enough to make sure you are anticipating future outcomes and seeing moves and countermoves.”

Let’s consider a simple example. Suppose I buy a lottery ticket. Of course, I must have a concrete plan on how I will spend or invest the money if I win it. But what’s my plan if I don’t win that lottery, or if I win a meagre amount that’s insufficient to fulfill my ultimate dreams? Then what course of action will I take? Should I stay at my 9-5 job, start a side hustle, and only occasionally put my hopes on lotteries again, or should I stop buying lotteries forever? 

2. “Alignment Is the Key to Fulfilment.”

Your vision must align with who you want to be.Your choices must align with your vision.Your effort must align with the size of your vision.Your behavior must align with your values and principles.

Are you chasing a dream, a goal, a career, or a relationship that is not in alignment with who you are as a person? In order to succeed, fit in, or become famous, are you making choices that contradict your values and principles? 

Are you truly happy? Or are you constantly feeling angry, irritated, envious, or unhappy?  

Is the effort you are putting into achieving your goals matching the grandiosity of the vision you’ve set for yourself? With the current efforts, will you be able to complete your goals within the deadlines you’ve set for yourself? 

Or is your dream and its deadline too unrealistic and grandiose that you need to lower your expectations to match it with your current efforts? Or should you increase your efforts and work ethic to meet or exceed your goals? 

These are some important questions we need to continuously ask ourselves to lead a fulfilling life, as well as to run a successful business that stands the test of time. 

“When you’re honest about who you are, you learn to stop wanting everything. Envy is an indicator that alerts you if you’re being honest with yourself. What it’s telling you is that you really do want it but are afraid to work for it. 

You’ll know you are living the best version of yourself when your reaction to the success of others, including those who have things you don’t have, is feeling happy for them. Again, if you feel envy, it’s an indicator that either you’re lying to yourself about what you want or you lack the discipline to accomplish it.”

3. “Four Levels of Trust.”

“The world of business is tough. People don’t always play fair. Some of them are flat-out crooks. Some have no problem telling you what you want to hear while doing the opposite. 

The onus is on you for allowing yourself to be hustled. You’re smarter than that. In fact, you should be able to figure out the level of trust you should have with anyone, be it customer, employee, business partner, or supplier.” 

The author advises us to categorize people according to four levels of trust:

StrangerEndorsed TrustedRunning Mate

Categorize people as “Strangers” when you have zero experience with them. Instinctively, they may seem trustworthy, charming, friendly, and even talk a good game. But don’t trust them until you know more about them. 

The “Endorsed” category is for individuals who arrive with a strong track record and positive recommendations from others. However, recommendations can be biased or even outright dishonest. Don’t label this category of people as “Trusted” until you’ve had personal experience with them, and they prove they are indeed trustworthy. 

Consider a person as “Trusted” only after you’ve witnessed their behaviour firsthand and found them consistently demonstrating loyalty, honesty, and reliability.  

“Running Mate” is the highest category of trust. We’re unlikely to find more than one individual who fits this description. This is the professional equivalent of a best friend/ life partner. That one person whom we can call whenever we are going through a problem, and their immediate response will be, “What can I do to help you?” The kind of person who will move mountains to assist you. 

In business, even if someone falls under the “Trusted” category, continue monitoring them. Because naivety is an expensive mistake, and your blind trust in someone could someday cost you your entire business.

There are so many more pearls of wisdom in this book, but it would be unfair to the author if I listed them all here. So I encourage all of you, especially my friends and readers who have entrepreneurial dreams, to read the full book.  Build that business you’ve been dreaming about, and may the knowledge in this book give you the leverage you need!

Author’s Notes

~ © 2025 Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

~ If you read the book, please let me know in the comments whether you enjoyed it and what your favorite takeaway was. 

Travel Diaries: A Hidden Historic Gem in Thangasserry – St. Thomas Fort

A painting depicting St. Thomas Fort and Thangasserry Lighthouse in its old grandeur.

On the Way

After visiting the Thangasserry Breakwater Tourism Park, I walked towards the next spot on my itinerary, a ruined fort.

On the way, I saw small stalls selling sweets and cold drinks. We Keralites call such stalls pettikadakal (“petti” means box, and “kadakal” means shops).  Several autorickshaws were parked on the roadside, away from the auto stand. Withered under the afternoon sun, some drivers were taking a quick nap inside the rickshaws. 

Nearby, a couple of local fishermen stood on the roadside, chit-chatting with each other.  A few stray dogs on the street startled me, but they didn’t follow me or harm me in any way. Just before reaching the fort, I saw the D’Fort Ayurvedic Resort on the left. A few years ago, I used to visit this resort most mornings and evenings for nearly two months to attend my swimming class. 

Finally, I reached my destination, the St. Thomas Fort. 

History of St. Thomas Fort

Fort Thomas, St. Thomas Fort, Fortaleza de São Tomé, or Thangasserry Fort, is a ruined fort located in the beach town of Thangasserry on the shores of the Arabian Sea in the city of Kollam, Kerala, India. Thangasserry was associated with the Chinese trade from the first millennium AD and was later colonised by the Portuguese, Dutch, and British. 

Available documents mention that the St. Thomas Fort was constructed in 1519 secretly by the Portuguese after obtaining permission from the Rani of Kollam to construct a house. Built with laterite stone, it had five bastions and a moat. 

Later, during the 17th century, the fort came under the control of the Dutch. After that, the British took over. Currently, the site is managed by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI).

Exploring the St Thomas Fort 

While researching this fort, I was surprised to learn about its historical significance. It made me wonder: why weren’t more people talking about this place? Why wasn’t it a popular tourist destination in Kollam?

I worried the place might be in shambles. However, the actual sight was a delight. 

The Ruins of St. Thomas Fort in Thangasserry.

Though in ruins, the premises looked clean, and the fort was charming in its own way. The authorities had obviously put some effort into maintaining it. I was particularly happy to see the flowery bushes on the premises: the mauve-colored hibiscus and the red chethi poo (Jungle Geranium). 

However, as expected, the fort was locked. There was neither any staff to guide the visitors, nor any provision to enter the building and explore it in detail. So I could only enjoy the view from outside.

In a now-archived 2007 Hindu article,  I had seen complaints that mining and construction activities were rampant in the vicinity of this place. I believe the government must have put an end to the mining activities by now, but still, there were many houses around the fort. 

“As per the notice, under Section 32 of the Ancient Monuments, Archaeological Sites and Remains Rules, 1959, mining and construction have been banned up to 100 metres and 200 metres beyond the protected site.

But the Thangasserry fort complex of the ASI has claim over only 5.7 cents of land. In fact, the fort wall is also the compound wall for at least two houses. Within the prescribed 300-metre periphery of the fort, there are at least 11 houses.”( Dated: 2007, The Hindu. )

But honestly, what disappointed me more was the lack of even a plaque explaining the fort’s historical significance.

Anyway, I reminded myself that India is a vast country with 4000+ forts, vying for the government’s attention, hence it’s unrealistic to be too nitpicky. So, I walked around the fort, viewing it from different angles and clicking photos. 

A Game of Imagination 

The Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) currently manages the St. Thomas Fort in Thangasserry.

Whenever I stand in front of historical sites, I have this strange habit of reimagining the site from the viewpoint of a time traveller.  

Imagine if I were a person who lived and died somewhere between the 1500s-1800s. What would come to my mind if I time-traveled to the present and stood in front of the St. Thomas Fort? That’s the game. 

Well, I imagined the armies of the Queen(Rani) of Quilon(Kollam), the Arabs, the Portuguese, the Dutch, and even the British waging wars before the St. Thomas Fort. Surreal, isn’t it?

I shook my head in protest. No, I don’t want foreign armies marching through my peaceful hometown, even in a hypothetical situation. I’m sure all the children of war will agree. 

Return Journey 

The cooing and fluttering of the pigeons inside the fort pulled me out of my imagination. There was also the occasional laughter from a gang of men playing cards under the shade of a tree. They were discussing “morality” (“sadhacharam” in Malayalam). 

It was almost 3:30 pm by then. The buses of nearby schools (Mount Carmel, Infant Jesus, and Trinity Lyceum)  had started to ply. Many parents were rushing by in their two and four-wheelers to pick up their wards. 

Many kids walked past me, too, carrying their heavy bags and water bottles. They looked tired but also relieved and happy to go home. I felt the same.

I couldn’t help but wonder, when these kids grow up, will they be happy with the systems and the kind of world we have built for them? Will they comply and surrender to the way this world runs, or will they rebel for change? Only time will tell. I personally believe we owe our kids a better and kinder world. 

I waited at the nearby bus stop and soon boarded a Thangasserry-Mayyanad bus to get off at Ammachiveedu. 

Reflections 

St. Thomas Fort in Thangasserry, where the colonial history of India still reverberates.

As various bus stops passed by, with grand declarations that they were constructed by certain politicians, utilizing so-and-so public funds, I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrow. Everyone knows that bus stops are billboards for a politician’s future vote campaigns. Whereas, a plaque in a forgotten historical or heritage site – how much traction will it gain? 

During my recent visit to the UK, I got the chance to visit the Bristol Museum. The children from a nearby school also visited the museum that day. I was pleasantly surprised to see their teacher explaining the history of each painting and relic in detail to them. 

When I visited Southampton, my cousin’s wife, who was born and brought up in the UK, explained the history of their street to me. She explained how the street was famous for its strawberry farms in the past and was, in fact, named after a variety of strawberry. If she had asked me the history of the street where I now live in Kollam, I would’ve definitely had a panic attack out of sheer embarrassment. 

Our lack of general knowledge and ignorance of our history make our country fertile grounds for corrupt and incompetent politicians. If India were a nation of history enthusiasts, then how would our leaders dare to rewrite our history books with lies and leave our historical monuments to neglect? 

Looking Ahead 

I sighed, remembering there were two more important spots in Thangasserry left on my itinerary.  But I will have to park them for now and explore another part of Kollam in my next blog. It’s nice to have some unfinished business with places you love. Don’t you think?  For me, it’s a good excuse to come back and to hope that things might be much better the next time.

Author’s Note:

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

~ If you are a history enthusiast, here is a detailed timeline of the St. Thomas Fort. I am only a student of literature, so please comment if you find any factual errors and provide sources to support your claims.

A Rough Timeline of St. Thomas Fort (Thangasserry Fort)

1500 – The Ruler (Rani/Queen) of Quilon (Kollam) extended an invitation to the Portuguese to establish trade. They initially hesitated due to their close ties with the Raja of Cochin.

1502 –  A compromise enabled the Portuguese to establish a trading presence at Thangasserry in Quilon, marking the beginning of their role as a major pepper trading hub on the Malabar Coast. 

1505 – A formal Portuguese feitoria (trading post) was set up in Quilon.

1517–1519 – Following an agreement with the local ruler (Rani), Portuguese Captain Heitor Rodrigues, acting under orders from the Portugese Governor Afonso de Albuquerque (or his successor Lopo Soares de Albergaria ), began fortifying the trading post, culminating in the construction of Fortaleza de São Tomé (St. Thomas Fort) in 1519.

1658 (Late December) – The Dutch captured the fort from the Portuguese.

1659 – The Portuguese briefly regained control of the fort.

1661 – The Dutch decisively took back the fort and held it, integrating it as a strategic regional stronghold.

1741 – Marthanda Varma of Travancore defeated the Dutch at the Battle of Colachel, significantly weakening Dutch influence in the region.

1795 – Following the decline of Dutch power, the British East India Company took possession of the fort.

1823 – The British leased the fort to the Kingdom of Travancore for a term of twenty years.

Present – Today, only the ruins of St. Thomas Fort remain. The Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) manages the site, which is recognized as a protected heritage monument.  

(Disclaimer: The details differ in various sources. Reference links added below: Wikipedia, Colonial Voyage , Kollam Tourism Blog , HPIP, Rotary Thangasserry, and Reddit .)

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

Thangasserry Breakwater Tourism Park as seen from the Thangasserry Lighthouse.

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. 

Painting on the wall near 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. 

Closed gate with warning signs about strong sea waves.

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. 

Faded graffiti on a rock.

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. 

Thangasserry Lighthouse as seen from the Pulimutt.

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. 

Under the shade of an Indian almond tree.

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.

Chasing butterflies is not for the faint-hearted.

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

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

~ 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.

Poem: Renovations

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I lay passive next to him,

the heaving of his chest,

the fluttering of my eyes.

We kept staring at the blank ceiling.

The wet patches on the roof,

the leaky tap in the kitchen,

wallpapers to hide the cracks,

curtains to cut the glare,

capacitor for the fan in his room,

a new mirror near our wash basin,

a new handle for the saucepan,

a long rug outside the front door.

I lay passive next to him.

We couldn’t stand each other’s glance.

Words too bitter to be spoken out loud,

we kept renovating our rented house.

Author’s Notes:

© Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

The poem “Renovations” was originally written and first published on AllPoetry on June 23, 2019.

This poem was also part of my first poetry collection, The Blue Rabbit, published in 2021.

Poem: Broken Art

Broken Bowl. A Pencil Sketch by Nayana Mathradan.

If the one thing that makes us cry

is the one thing we ever loved,

let’s go on with a rainbow thrown

from our tear prisms,

our broken hearts held high

like a flag of glory,

our scars thrown at a canvas

like a piece of art.

Author’s Notes:

© Lirio Marchito. All rights reserved.

An old scribble.

The poem “Broken Art” was originally written and first published on AllPoetry on September 24, 2017.

This poem was also part of my first poetry collection, The Blue Rabbit, published in 2021.

Travel Diaries: A Tale of Two Rainbows ft. Thangasserry Lighthouse

July 6, 2025

Sun-soaked Thangassery Lighthouse.

As it was a Sunday, I was in a great mood. When I say “great”, you’ve to assume the level of I will “go-get-it”, “change-the-world”, “stop-global-warming”, “remove-all-plastics-from-earth” kind of high-octane mood. Yes, I know I can be delusionally optimistic at times. What’s life without hope and dreams?

Anyway, I was brimming with energy and raring for a highly productive and adventurous day. So I grabbed my pending household chores and reading lists with a newfound enthusiasm. I worked so hard that by 3 pm, I had completed all my work for the day and even dressed up to visit the next place on my itinerary – Thangasserry Lighthouse. Tadaa! 

How to Reach Thangasserry Lighthouse?

If you reach Kollam Railway Station, Kollam KSRTC Bus Stand, or Kollam Chinnakada Private Bus Stand:

→ Board a Thangasserry-bound private bus and get down at the last stop (approx fare Rs 13-15). From there, you can walk to the Thangasserry lighthouse. 

→ Alternatively, you can board a Chavara bus and get down at Ammachiveedu (approx fare Rs 13-15). From there, you can board a Thangasserry-bound private bus or take an auto to the lighthouse. 

Please note that, based on the day and timings, the frequency of the Thangasserry buses may be impacted. 

Thangasserry Lighthouse Entry fee: Rs 20/-

Working Days: Tuesday to Sunday. Not open on Mondays.

Open Hours: 10:00 am – 1:00 pm, 2:00 pm – 6:00 pm. 

Holidays may impact working days and hours.

Resuming my trip details… I have this bad habit of procrastinating for a few minutes before I leave the house, which I did as usual, as if it’s a pre-trip routine. By 3:30 pm, I finally walked to the nearest bus stop and boarded a bus to Ammachiveedu. I reached the spot within 10 minutes and stood near the side road to Thangassery, awaiting the next bus. 

Google Maps warned that the timings of public places and vehicles could be impacted as it was Ashura, the tenth day of Muharram. On top of that, an auto chetan(chetan means elder brother/male in Malayalam; auto chetan is a colloquial way to respectfully address someone who drives an autorickshaw for his living), who was standing at the nearby tea shop and sipping tea, warned me, “Moley(Daughter), since it’s Sunday, Thangasserry buses may not be available.”

I checked Google Maps, and it showed a distance of 1.6 kilometers to the lighthouse. As I was feeling energetic, I decided to walk to the lighthouse. Within 15-20 minutes, just as I neared the Kaval junction and had covered more than three-quarters of the distance, I heard a bus’s horn from behind. Sure enough, it was a private bus plying to Thangasserry. My exact thought at the auto chetan was “Muthalali”. 

‘Muthalali’ means Boss/Master in Malayalam. A still from the famous Malayalam Movie Punjabi House. Credits: Commentphotos.

[It’s an inside joke for us Keralites. The word “Muthalali” literally means boss/master in Malayalam. In the above scene from the popular Malayalam comedy film Punjabi House, the character Ramanan (played by the iconic film actor Harishri Ashokan, whom you can see in the GIF)  was scapegoated by his boss to escape from a sticky situation. So, in playful situations, when someone we like (for example, a friend or acquaintance) plays a prank, or takes a slight advantage of us, say by stealing our food, we call them “Muthalali” to mark our affectionate displeasure.]

I wasn’t angry at the auto chetan or anything. The frequency of buses was low on Sundays, as he warned. Besides, I could’ve taken his autorickshaw, but I chose to walk. 

As I reached the Thangasserry arch, I wanted to click a proper photo of it, but I got nervous as passersby glanced at me. So this is what I managed to take. Hopefully, I will get a better snap next time. 

Thangassery Arch. One day, I’ll master the art of taking photos in public without freezing under someone’s stare.

I reached the lighthouse by 4 pm. The lady at the counter gave me an entry ticket in exchange for ₹20. I checked how long we can stay at the top. She warned me that the lift wasn’t working and the guard at the top won’t allow us to stay for more than 10 minutes. As the space at the top of the lighthouse is limited, the previous visitors had to leave and make space for the new ones. I was okay with both constraints. 

Again, overspiked by my enthusiasm, I didn’t stop to catch my breath and immediately started climbing the stairs inside the lighthouse. The curvy black-granite steps looked so beautiful. So did the small, rectangular side windows that opened up to the sea. But after the first 10 or 20 steps, I was sweating and huffing and puffing so badly. Neither did I have the energy nor the patience to pull out my phone and take good pics. 

Soon, my mask was soaked in sweat. Despite the irritation and struggle to breathe, I didn’t dare to take off the mask. Compared to falling ill and facing more delays in my trips, I didn’t mind this small inconvenience at all.

I looked longingly at the transparent, oval-shaped lift. My health-and-fitness-related ego wouldn’t have allowed me to cave in and take the elevator. But God, still, it would have been great if the lift were functional and I had an option to take it. 

As I reached the watch room just before the final flight of steps, the guard asked me to wait as the gallery at the top was crowded with people. As I waited, a group of seniors also joined me. They appeared to be in their sixties and gave me the vibe of friends or retired colleagues more than family. 

I had seen them at the bottom of the lighthouse before I started climbing and had worried about their health. At that time, seeing them, I had also unconsciously made a mental remark that I must complete my major travel dreams before I turned sixty, otherwise I would struggle with health issues. 

But looking at them now, waiting excitedly in the watch room with me, I was surprised by their stamina and spirit. Yes, they were tired and breathing heavily too. But God, if I looked as excited as they did to climb the last flight of stairs to see the top of a lighthouse when I’m in my sixties, I would call my life a huge success. 

I reminded myself not to judge people’s capacity by their grey hair or wrinkles. They might be aged, but they didn’t grow up with mobile phones or social media, and surely may not be a homebody like me. Maybe they exercise every day, or go to a gym, or are part of a sports team. You never know. Don’t judge a book by its cover! I chided myself. 

Soon, many people descended from the gallery, making space for new visitors. I was glad to see a group of migrant laborers among them. We often hear stories about how they’re toiling to support their families in their home states like West Bengal,  Bihar, Assam, Uttar Pradesh, Odisha, etc.

As a Keralite, I can relate to their situation. Many Keralites/ Malayalees work in foreign countries or other Indian states to support their families, too. In fact, foreign remittances, especially from countries like the UAE, form a major part of our GDP. 

Fun fact. The global presence of Malayalees has sparked some hilarious comments. Take the 2007 T20 World Cup final between India and Pakistan. When S. Sreeshanth, a Malayalee, caught Misbah-Ul-Haq’s scoop at fine leg to seal India’s win, the media joked:

“Misbah thought he’d placed the ball safely,  but he forgot there’s a Malayalee in every corner of the world.”

Anyway,  I was happy to see the migrant workers taking some time off for themselves, to relax and enjoy the scenic places around. When the guard whistled, finally giving us the green signal to ascend the last set of stairs, I let the senior gang overtake me, more out of respect than out of courtesy. 

The Thangassery Sea Bridge, also known as Pulimutt, as seen from the lighthouse.

The view from the top was nothing short of breathtaking. On one side, there was the mighty Arabian Sea, and on top an ever mightier and bluer sky. I could see the Sea Bridge or Pulimutt, which is part of the Thangassery Breakwater Tourism Park, and a fleet of fishing boats docked nearby.

There were a few young couples in the gallery. My familiar senior gang. A father with a salt-and-pepper beard, with his three or four-year-old daughter clinging to his fingers.  A trio of teenage girls who were busy clicking photos. Every time they clicked a selfie, if I were in the vicinity, they kept reassuring me that they were not clicking my photos. For a split second, I feared that I was giving them boomer or Karen vibes and thereafter tried my best to stay out of their camera angles. 

Fishing boats bobbing over the waves.

On one hand, it seemed like a perfect sunny day, but on the other, the tumultuous sea, the sky pregnant with rain, and the drizzle were hard to miss. In Kerala, we call these sunshowers ‘Kurukkanum Kozhikkum Kalyanam’ (A Fox and Hen’s Wedding). 

It was also too windy at the top. As my frizzy hair went haywire, I was forced to untie my half-ponytail and pull it all up into a bun.   

And then out of nowhere came a girl’s squeal, “Look, a rainbow.”

“Not one, but two,” a male voice corrected her. 

And sure it was, like a colorful arch in the sky, not one but two rainbows. One was brighter, and the other a dimmer version. 

Nature’s quiet gift – A Double Rainbow! What more could I ask?

Every time I visit a tranquil spot in nature, I wonder if nature is happy to see me or would have preferred if I didn’t come at all. It’s usually the plastic littered all over the scenic spots that makes me worry about this. When the COVID-19 pandemic happened and all of us were forced to stay indoors for months, I pondered if nature had finally thrown the towel in the ring and had decided to keep us away forever. 

But today, as I saw the double rainbow in the sky, my lips curved into a smile, and my eyes shimmered with delight unconsciously. I know a double rainbow is not a rare phenomenon in nature. It occurs when the sunlight is reflected twice inside a raindrop. The secondary rainbow will always be dimmer than the primary, and its colors will be in the reverse order. 

However, as much as I love and respect Science and Technology, I also enjoy creating fictional scenarios in my head. So I am gonna believe this double rainbow is nature’s way of expressing her joy and appreciation for my effort to show up here today. Not just for me, but for everybody else who was in the vicinity, who cared to look up at the sky at that moment, and witnessed the double rainbow, too. 

Soon, it was time for me to step out of the gallery to make space for the next visitors. But unfortunately, it started raining heavily just then. The next visitors had to wait in the watch room until the rain passed. 

The sky, pregnant with rain, moments before the downpour.

As I climbed down the stairs, the father-daughter duo whom I had observed earlier was in front. The child insisted that she would climb down the stairs by herself. Her father felt guilty for delaying us, but we were happy to wait and give them time. These are all memories a child might remember all her life. Not just this duo, but another father who carried his screaming toddler daughter to the top also brought a smile to our lips. I wondered what all antics and tantrums I might have thrown at my parents as a kid. 

As I reached the bottom of the lighthouse, the rain eased for some time. So I walked around the children’s park on the premises, clicking photos of the fountain and various animal statues. One particular gorilla statue reminded me of my younger brother. In our childhood, we had a phase where we both called each other King Kong.

Rain-drenched Gorilla statue at the children’s park near Thangassery Lighthouse.

Just then, I got a call from my brother, asking if I had any plans to attend the Church mass at 5 pm. I told him yes, so he said he would pick me up in his car. As I waited for him, I watched the father-daughter duo again. Now he was helping her into the swings. I liked that he was letting her play in the swing even though the drizzle had not stopped fully. He reminded me of my father. 

Being single in my thirties, a freelancer, an aspiring writer, and a wannabe India-trotter, I know I’m no piece-of-cake daughter for my father because of the societal expectations. Still, I don’t think he considers me a “burden”, as daughters are often labeled in my culture, since I’m not dependent on him. But does he consider me and my crazy ideas a nuisance? Absolutely. But he and I both know I’ve no plans to change. 

As I walked towards the parking space to meet my brother, all I could think of was the smell of hot, fried groundnuts wafting from the roadside stall outside the lighthouse. One of my greatest weaknesses. “Control, lady! No impulsive purchases. You’re still in your hometown. You’ve got a whole country to see.”  I argued with myself. 

Author’s Notes

All content, including images, on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © [2025] [Lirio Marchito]. All rights reserved.

Blog: A Tale of Two Rainbows ft. Thangasserry Lighthouse

July 6, 2025

Sun-soaked Thangassery Lighthouse.

As it was a Sunday, I was in a great mood. When I say “great”, you’ve to assume the level of I will “go-get-it”, “change-the-world”, “stop-global-warming”, “remove-all-plastics-from-earth” kind of high-octane mood. Yes, I know I can be delusionally optimistic at times. What’s life without hope and dreams?

Anyway, I was brimming with energy and raring for a highly productive and adventurous day. So I grabbed my pending household chores and reading lists with a newfound enthusiasm. I worked so hard that by 3 pm, I had completed all my work for the day and even dressed up to visit the next place on my itinerary – Thangasserry Lighthouse. Tadaa! 

How to Reach Thangasserry Lighthouse?

If you reach Kollam Railway Station, Kollam KSRTC Bus Stand, or Kollam Chinnakada Private Bus Stand:

→ Board a Thangasserry-bound private bus and get down at the last stop (approx fare Rs 13-15). From there, you can walk to the Thangasserry lighthouse. 

→ Alternatively, you can board a Chavara bus and get down at Ammachiveedu (approx fare Rs 13-15). From there, you can board a Thangasserry-bound private bus or take an auto to the lighthouse. 

Please note that, based on the day and timings, the frequency of the Thangasserry buses may be impacted. 

Thangasserry Lighthouse Entry fee: Rs 20/-

Working Days: Tuesday to Sunday. Not open on Mondays.

Open Hours: 10:00 am – 1:00 pm, 2:00 pm – 6:00 pm. 

Holidays may impact working days and hours.

Resuming my trip details… I have this bad habit of procrastinating for a few minutes before I leave the house, which I did as usual, as if it’s a pre-trip routine. By 3:30 pm, I finally walked to the nearest bus stop and boarded a bus to Ammachiveedu. I reached the spot within 10 minutes and stood near the side road to Thangassery, awaiting the next bus. 

Google Maps warned that the timings of public places and vehicles could be impacted as it was Ashura, the tenth day of Muharram. On top of that, an auto chetan(chetan means elder brother/male in Malayalam; auto chetan is a colloquial way to respectfully address someone who drives an autorickshaw for his living), who was standing at the nearby tea shop and sipping tea, warned me, “Moley(Daughter), since it’s Sunday, Thangasserry buses may not be available.”

I checked Google Maps, and it showed a distance of 1.6 kilometers to the lighthouse. As I was feeling energetic, I decided to walk to the lighthouse. Within 15-20 minutes, just as I neared the Kaval junction and had covered more than three-quarters of the distance, I heard a bus’s horn from behind. Sure enough, it was a private bus plying to Thangasserry. My exact thought at the auto chetan was “Muthalali”. 

‘Muthalali’ means Boss/Master in Malayalam. A still from the famous Malayalam Movie Punjabi House. Credits: Commentphotos.

[It’s an inside joke for us Keralites. The word “Muthalali” literally means boss/master in Malayalam. In the above scene from the popular Malayalam comedy film Punjabi House, the character Ramanan (played by the iconic film actor Harishri Ashokan, whom you can see in the GIF)  was scapegoated by his boss to escape from a sticky situation. So, in playful situations, when someone we like (for example, a friend or acquaintance) plays a prank, or takes a slight advantage of us, say by stealing our food, we call them “Muthalali” to mark our affectionate displeasure.]

I wasn’t angry at the auto chetan or anything. The frequency of buses was low on Sundays, as he warned. Besides, I could’ve taken his autorickshaw, but I chose to walk. 

As I reached the Thangasserry arch, I wanted to click a proper photo of it, but I got nervous as passersby glanced at me. So this is what I managed to take. Hopefully, I will get a better snap next time. 

Thangassery Arch. One day, I’ll master the art of taking photos in public without freezing under someone’s stare.

I reached the lighthouse by 4 pm. The lady at the counter gave me an entry ticket in exchange for ₹20. I checked how long we can stay at the top. She warned me that the lift wasn’t working and the guard at the top won’t allow us to stay for more than 10 minutes. As the space at the top of the lighthouse is limited, the previous visitors had to leave and make space for the new ones. I was okay with both constraints. 

Again, overspiked by my enthusiasm, I didn’t stop to catch my breath and immediately started climbing the stairs inside the lighthouse. The curvy black-granite steps looked so beautiful. So did the small, rectangular side windows that opened up to the sea. But after the first 10 or 20 steps, I was sweating and huffing and puffing so badly. Neither did I have the energy nor the patience to pull out my phone and take good pics. 

Soon, my mask was soaked in sweat. Despite the irritation and struggle to breathe, I didn’t dare to take off the mask. Compared to falling ill and facing more delays in my trips, I didn’t mind this small inconvenience at all.

I looked longingly at the transparent, oval-shaped lift. My health-and-fitness-related ego wouldn’t have allowed me to cave in and take the elevator. But God, still, it would have been great if the lift were functional and I had an option to take it. 

As I reached the watch room just before the final flight of steps, the guard asked me to wait as the gallery at the top was crowded with people. As I waited, a group of seniors also joined me. They appeared to be in their sixties and gave me the vibe of friends or retired colleagues more than family. 

I had seen them at the bottom of the lighthouse before I started climbing and had worried about their health. At that time, seeing them, I had also unconsciously made a mental remark that I must complete my major travel dreams before I turned sixty, otherwise I would struggle with health issues. 

But looking at them now, waiting excitedly in the watch room with me, I was surprised by their stamina and spirit. Yes, they were tired and breathing heavily too. But God, if I looked as excited as they did to climb the last flight of stairs to see the top of a lighthouse when I’m in my sixties, I would call my life a huge success. 

I reminded myself not to judge people’s capacity by their grey hair or wrinkles. They might be aged, but they didn’t grow up with mobile phones or social media, and surely may not be a homebody like me. Maybe they exercise every day, or go to a gym, or are part of a sports team. You never know. Don’t judge a book by its cover! I chided myself. 

Soon, many people descended from the gallery, making space for new visitors. I was glad to see a group of migrant laborers among them. We often hear stories about how they’re toiling to support their families in their home states like West Bengal,  Bihar, Assam, Uttar Pradesh, Odisha, etc.

As a Keralite, I can relate to their situation. Many Keralites/ Malayalees work in foreign countries or other Indian states to support their families, too. In fact, foreign remittances, especially from countries like the UAE, form a major part of our GDP. 

Fun fact. The global presence of Malayalees has sparked some hilarious comments. Take the 2007 T20 World Cup final between India and Pakistan. When S. Sreeshanth, a Malayalee, caught Misbah-Ul-Haq’s scoop at fine leg to seal India’s win, the media joked:

“Misbah thought he’d placed the ball safely,  but he forgot there’s a Malayalee in every corner of the world.”

Anyway,  I was happy to see the migrant workers taking some time off for themselves, to relax and enjoy the scenic places around. When the guard whistled, finally giving us the green signal to ascend the last set of stairs, I let the senior gang overtake me, more out of respect than out of courtesy. 

The Thangassery Sea Bridge, also known as Pulimutt, as seen from the lighthouse.

The view from the top was nothing short of breathtaking. On one side, there was the mighty Arabian Sea, and on top an ever mightier and bluer sky. I could see the Sea Bridge or Pulimutt, which is part of the Thangassery Breakwater Tourism Park, and a fleet of fishing boats docked nearby.

There were a few young couples in the gallery. My familiar senior gang. A father with a salt-and-pepper beard, with his three or four-year-old daughter clinging to his fingers.  A trio of teenage girls who were busy clicking photos. Every time they clicked a selfie, if I were in the vicinity, they kept reassuring me that they were not clicking my photos. For a split second, I feared that I was giving them boomer or Karen vibes and thereafter tried my best to stay out of their camera angles. 

Fishing boats bobbing over the waves.

On one hand, it seemed like a perfect sunny day, but on the other, the tumultuous sea, the sky pregnant with rain, and the drizzle were hard to miss. In Kerala, we call these sunshowers ‘Kurukkanum Kozhikkum Kalyanam’ (A Fox and Hen’s Wedding). 

It was also too windy at the top. As my frizzy hair went haywire, I was forced to untie my half-ponytail and pull it all up into a bun.   

And then out of nowhere came a girl’s squeal, “Look, a rainbow.”

“Not one, but two,” a male voice corrected her. 

And sure it was, like a colorful arch in the sky, not one but two rainbows. One was brighter, and the other a dimmer version. 

Nature’s quiet gift – A Double Rainbow! What more could I ask?

Every time I visit a tranquil spot in nature, I wonder if nature is happy to see me or would have preferred if I didn’t come at all. It’s usually the plastic littered all over the scenic spots that makes me worry about this. When the COVID-19 pandemic happened and all of us were forced to stay indoors for months, I pondered if nature had finally thrown the towel in the ring and had decided to keep us away forever. 

But today, as I saw the double rainbow in the sky, my lips curved into a smile, and my eyes shimmered with delight unconsciously. I know a double rainbow is not a rare phenomenon in nature. It occurs when the sunlight is reflected twice inside a raindrop. The secondary rainbow will always be dimmer than the primary, and its colors will be in the reverse order. 

However, as much as I love and respect Science and Technology, I also enjoy creating fictional scenarios in my head. So I am gonna believe this double rainbow is nature’s way of expressing her joy and appreciation for my effort to show up here today. Not just for me, but for everybody else who was in the vicinity, who cared to look up at the sky at that moment, and witnessed the double rainbow, too. 

Soon, it was time for me to step out of the gallery to make space for the next visitors. But unfortunately, it started raining heavily just then. The next visitors had to wait in the watch room until the rain passed. 

The sky, pregnant with rain, moments before the downpour.

As I climbed down the stairs, the father-daughter duo whom I had observed earlier was in front. The child insisted that she would climb down the stairs by herself. Her father felt guilty for delaying us, but we were happy to wait and give them time. These are all memories a child might remember all her life. Not just this duo, but another father who carried his screaming toddler daughter to the top also brought a smile to our lips. I wondered what all antics and tantrums I might have thrown at my parents as a kid. 

As I reached the bottom of the lighthouse, the rain eased for some time. So I walked around the children’s park on the premises, clicking photos of the fountain and various animal statues. One particular gorilla statue reminded me of my younger brother. In our childhood, we had a phase where we both called each other King Kong.

Rain-drenched Gorilla statue at the children’s park near Thangassery Lighthouse.

Just then, I got a call from my brother, asking if I had any plans to attend the Church mass at 5 pm. I told him yes, so he said he would pick me up in his car. As I waited for him, I watched the father-daughter duo again. Now he was helping her into the swings. I liked that he was letting her play in the swing even though the drizzle had not stopped fully. He reminded me of my father. 

Being single in my thirties, a freelancer, an aspiring writer, and a wannabe India-trotter, I know I’m no piece-of-cake daughter for my father because of the societal expectations. Still, I don’t think he considers me a “burden”, as daughters are often labeled in my culture, since I’m not dependent on him. But does he consider me and my crazy ideas a nuisance? Absolutely. But he and I both know I’ve no plans to change. 

As I walked towards the parking space to meet my brother, all I could think of was the smell of hot, fried groundnuts wafting from the roadside stall outside the lighthouse. One of my greatest weaknesses. “Control, lady! No impulsive purchases. You’re still in your hometown. You’ve got a whole country to see.”  I argued with myself. 

Author’s Notes

All content, including images, on this blog is the intellectual property of the author. © [2025] [Lirio Marchito]. All rights reserved.