Mythical Machine

When I set eyes on her for the first time, she looked like a comic book illustration of pushpak viman, Ravana’s flying machine in the mythological text of Ramayana.

She was majestic. She had a long wooden hull, curved thatched roof and little glass windows playing hide and seek through her bamboo-mat walls, teasing and inviting.

A handsome Kerala boy in a mundu turned the wheel and set her in motion with a thundering roar of the diesel engine.

The lower deck had a living room, 3 bedrooms and modernly equipped washrooms.

The living room had an old Philips TV set and an older bamboo table with chairs around it.

My father was the first to reach the upper deck and gush over the gorgeous view. The entourage followed him upstairs where he unveiled his new deck of cards.

I tap-danced on the creaky wooden floor around the polished teak columns.

The boy at the wheel invited me to try it out. I tried turning it with all my might but only managed to turn the boat slightly northeast. He laughed.
Embarrassed, I wondered if this was a prank he played on all tourists who came to his boat. That's when he told me how his great grandfather won this houseboat by defeating Ibn Batuta is a game of chess. The boat had apparently been gifted to Batuta by the local king to reside and travel in
during his stay at the backwaters.

Fresh prawns were bought from a man catching them live on his bowl-shaped boat nearby. Lunch comprised karimeen, malabar prawn curry and the heavenly coconut payasam amongst other Kerala cuisine.

Post lunch I sat down at the edge of one of the open French windows. Coconut palms craned their necks out to greet us as we passed by. The wooden villas had grown roofs like hairs which were now almost touching the ground. Coir mats and clothes hung outside cyan and magenta coloured homes where a bunch of young boys refused to let a crab go back into the water.

I wanted to live here forever. I must elope with a Kerala boy who owns a houseboat and live happily ever after.

I took the stairs to the now empty upper deck.

The breeze was blowing my skirt, the coir threads were catching my toenails. I collected and pocketed the cards fluttering around on the deck.

I stood there alone, looking at the endless horizon. A houseboat with a loud, happy entourage passed by. A young girl waved at me and sent me a flying kiss from her window. I waved back and smiled.

I felt like a goddess travelling through her kingdom in her Pushpak Viman.