Travel Diaries: Exploring Thevally – Part 1
16 May 2025
A Blister
Whenever my non-Malayali friends ask me what they should keep in mind while exploring Kerala, I tell them that carrying a bottle of drinking water and an umbrella, applying sunscreen, and wearing light clothing can never go wrong. But I’m learning the hard way what can go wrong, even if you get the above list right. My foot. Yes, literally. 
On May 12th, I had to travel to Alappuzha to attend my younger cousin bro’s wedding. I’m so happy for him, his lovely wife, and both families. But for me, personally, it was a daredevil act. I was nervous, thinking about how I would dodge the constant influx of “when are you getting married” questions. But, contrary to my fears, my relatives showed much restraint and maturity, impressing even a critic like me.
Other than the occasional “So now that you’re working, what are your future plans?”, nobody went on to give me unsolicited advice about the female reproductive system or fertility. Neither did I get the regular “you will only get marriage proposals from the divorcees and widowers now” jab. I mean, what’s wrong with that? They might be lovely people. As long as they’re not alcoholics and abusers, the two red flags that are personally too scary and triggering for me, I’ll not run. (Oh! Emotional abuse counts, too.)
Anyway, that night, my father and I returned home late after attending the wedding. I sighed in relief, thinking I had escaped the event without any casualties. But the next day, I woke up with a blister on my right foot. It has become a regular issue this year. My immediate response to any minor injury is to dab a little bit of aloe vera gel on it. But in this case, it made things worse. The wound became septic, and I had to see the doctor.
“Did you go to Sabarimala on foot?” was the doctor’s first question, before he broke into giggles. How can he ask such a controversial question in Kerala’s current political climate? I wondered. As a Christian, I will be allowed to climb Sabarimala, but as a menstruating woman, definitely not. Is he attempting to toe that narrow line of social commentary and criticism? Careful there, doctor. Before you know it, you could offend someone.
Meanwhile, the nurse cleaned my wound, bandaged it, and the doctor ushered me off with antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medicines.
I rested for two days, planning to give the wound ample time to heal. However, on May 16th, my nerves got the best of me. I decided to catch up on my itinerary and made a plan to explore Thevally.
But first, my brother drove me to the hospital, where the nurse again dressed my wound, and a different doctor, a lady this time, approved my decision to switch to a softer sandal and confirmed that my wound is healing well. However, she went on to remind me that I’m too young for wounds like this and advised me to take good care of myself. She also gave me an ointment and antibiotics for three more days.
After the hospital visit, my brother dropped me at St. Casimir’s Church, Kadavoor, one of the places on my list, and advised me not to walk a lot before he left for his work. He and I both know I’m not sensible enough to follow that sound advice.
A Backup Plan
Growing up, I was someone who liked to face life impulsively. But as societal expectations grew bigger, my list of failures grew longer, and my anxieties grew louder, I picked up the habit of making lists. Daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, to-read, to-visit, to-do, grocery, household chores – you name it, and there’s a high chance I’ve already made that list.
So, obviously, the first thing I did before setting out on this series of trips was to make a list of places I wanted to visit. But my recent visit to the Saradar Vallabhbhai Patel Police Museum was an eye-opener for me. I learned that it’s not enough to have a list of the main places I want to visit, but I must also have backup plans and secondary lists of nearby places to visit if the original trip doesn’t pan out the way I intended.
My initial plan for Thevally was to visit only the “Thevally Palace.” But I found out online that the place is no longer a tourist attraction and is closed to the public. Still, I decided to try my luck by showing up at the place, but this time I wasn’t ready to leave everything to luck. So, I also made a list of nine other small spots close to the palace that are worth visiting, based on my areas of interest.
How to Reach Thevally?
By Train
By Bus
St. Casimir’s Church
The first spot on my list was St. Casimir’s Church at Kadavoor. There’s a small shrine for St. George on its premises. I have been to this church and shrine many times in the past. Still, I entered the shrine, sat on the floor, and prayed for some time.
I say rosaries every day now. Unlike in my childhood, nowadays I don’t pray for any grand wish to come true, just for mental peace. Praying helps me to relax and self-soothe in difficult days.
There were the occasional stares at my bandaged feet, but I deflected them with a smile, and they smiled back at me. One of the helpers came and gave me nercha; in this case, some puffed rice blessed by the priest. As it was a month of festivities for the parish, many devotees visited the shrine that day.
Pallikadavu
Then I walked to the backyard of the church, where there’s a gate that opens up to a flight of steps that can take you to the bank of Ashtamudi Lake, a spot known as Pallikadavu (rough translation – the bank near the Church) or simply Kayalvaram (a lakeshore).
The gate was locked. The security chetan explained that they don’t open it until 4 p.m. I checked the time on my watch. It was just 3 p.m. then. “There’s another way, outside the church compound. Just walk down the small road on the left side of the Kurishadi (St. George’s shrine),” he told me. I thanked him and followed his instructions.
I walked down the road he pointed to and came across another shrine, a smaller one, with a statue of St. Sebastian this time. A few young men were napping there. One of them woke up suddenly and looked at me, and I got nervous. I pulled out my phone and clicked a random picture of the nearby small cliff-like formation.
I guess the guy randomly woke up and was planning to leave on his own accord. Having a stranger like me on the premises, clicking pics of random grass and rocks, might’ve accelerated his decision to leave. Anyway, he got on his scooter and left soon. And I walked towards the bank and watched the lake for some time.
I know my siblings have been to this place many times in the past, with cousins or friends. Would you believe it if I told you it was my first time here? I know, I was living under a rock for the last three decades. Sure, sir. 
During my childhood, I was a bookworm, and I still am. Whenever someone asked me if I liked to go somewhere, say to Thevally Palace or Kayalvaram in this case, if I was in the middle of reading a book, I had this bad habit of saying no. Look where it has got me now. I hope I will correct many such mistakes with this India trip.
Standing there at the lake’s shore, I thought about the many instances when I felt like visiting this beautiful place everyone kept praising. Out of some fear, I just never got around to doing it until today. Now watching the few men around me – one of them was still napping inside the shrine, many fled as soon as I walked in (Honestly, I have no idea what that was about 
. Am I a man-repellant? If so, in this case, I’m happy I’m one.), and the rest were busy fishing – I even dared to think why I had feared so much. So many years lost to fear and overthinking!
Honestly, I didn’t feel like leaving the place. After snapping a few photos for the blog and recording a short video of the lake, I kept my mobile phone and umbrella inside my handbag and stood there under the sun, just watching and savoring the scenic beauty and the blissful wind all around me.
I bet that wind can mend a broken heart or two, or at least make you forget your sad life for a while. Standing there, I could feel it in my gut that humans are not meant for the 9-5 cubicle life. No one can convince me otherwise. I thanked God for the heavenly wind and murmured, “kaatu oru rekshayumilla”.
Then I gawked at the nature around me. The clear, blue sky with the occasional stripes of white. The molten blue waves of the lake and their gentle lapping sounds as they collapsed on top of one another. The odd houseboat filled with tourists in yellow life jackets, sailing at a distance. I reckoned they must be guests from the five-star Raviz Hotel or the four-star All Seasons. Honestly, I’ve never been to both hotels, so I cannot give a review yet. Maybe someday, when I visit the place for some celebratory event, I can talk about it.
I looked longingly at the fishing boat parked at the bank. When I had just arrived here, the boatman tied the boat to a tree stump and walked away. The houseboats, though beautiful, are too costly for my budget. (Yes, I’ve a shoestring budget for this trip. In fact, the budget is thinner than a shoestring. ) Maybe when I go to explore Alappuzha someday, I will splurge on a day’s houseboat trip. Let me see.
I also looked longingly at the father-son duo fishing on the bank. The boy was barely ten or twelve years old, but he was handling the professional fishing rod very well. I know it’s a professional one, because the last time I went to Decathlon at Pallimukku, Kollam, I did ogle at a few. And I ogled at a few trekking shoes, camping tents, and swimsuits too. But who am I kidding?
From the opposite shore, I could hear the Tamil song Idhuthaanaa playing. I assumed it was playing from Asado, one of my favorite hangout places in Kollam now. My siblings and I try to go there on the weekdays, preferably after 6 p.m., to grab an open-air table, next to the lake, to enjoy the view and the Varkala-like vibe it gives us. Idhuthaanaa is a romantic song, but as soon as I heard it, all I could think about was the grilled items, wraps, and shakes in Asado.
It took the school of fish in the water to drive away my food thoughts. They were too small, almost looked like tadpoles. And the big white stork dived so low to catch them on its beak. There were also some pigeons on the bank, and an odd full black-bodied stork-like bird. It wasn’t a kulakozhi (a White-breasted Waterhen) because it flew across the water, just like a stork. But it didn’t have the reddish beak or legs of a Black Stork. Maybe it was a black heron or an egret. I don’t know for sure. How I wish I had the bird-spotting skills of my twelve-year-old nephew. He can tell their names just by hearing their sounds. He doesn’t even have to see them.
Overall, standing near the Kayalvaram, soaking in the sun and my lust for life, was the highlight of the trip. The only thing that irked me, as usual, was the plastic and empty beer bottles casually tossed aside on the bank and in the water. When will we ever learn that safeguarding our water bodies is paramount to preventing a mass extinction in this world?
Reluctantly, I walked back to the premises of the church again. A white flower on the way puzzled me. It had the texture of a Mussaenda, but the ones I was familiar with always had more petals. But once I got home, a quick Google search cleared my doubt. It’s just a different variety of Mussaenda, alright.
I enquired about my next spot with the local vendors. A chechi who was selling tender coconuts and a couple who were heating the oil to fry yum snacks like pazhampori (Banana Fritters), parippu vada(Kerala Lentil Fritters), uzhunnu vada (I don’t know the English name. In Tamil, it’s called Medu Vada or Soft vada. Maybe Black Gram or Urad dal Fritters because that’s what it is made of), mulak bajji(chilli fritters?), and mutta bhaji (egg fritters or egg bonda?). Well, jotting this down is making me hungry.
Anyway, they told me my next spot – the much-awaited Thevally Palace is on the other side of the bridge. I thanked them and walked across the bridge. In the middle of the bridge, I stopped for some time and stared ahead, soaking in the images of the sky, the trees, the lake, and the fisherman on a boat. The lake, like the broken glass of a mirror, was glistening in the sun.
Is this what the poet William Henry Davies (or W.H. Davies) meant when he wrote Leisure:
“ WHAT is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?”
To be continued…
