Monday 16th December
We said goodbye to Appacha and Ammachi in the morning and drove to Kochi airport for our flight to Ahmedabad. I didn't even bother trying to find another caucasian on the plane this time. The padding under my seat had almost entirely worn out; I felt something like a metal bar under my tailbone and hoped for a smooth flight.
We made it safely to Ahmedabad airport, where we collected our bags and got a taxi to a nearby cafe. Ahmedabad was a much larger city, with wider roads and a more polished vibe. It was cooler too - a welcome relief from the heat and humidity of Kerala.
At the cafe we met with Manu Uncle, Bindu's cousin. He was about to fly out from Ahmedabad for work, but we wanted to see him before he left. We chatted on the sidewalk for about half an hour, eating our way through ice-creams Ajay had bought.
Then we got back in the taxi and drove south-east to Baroda. Many of the cities in India have multiple names. Baroda was originally known as Vadodara, until the British decided that was too hard and changed the name. That lasted until 1974, when it was officially changed back. But colloquially Baroda is still used. The same situation occurred with other cities such as Trivandrum/Thiruvananthapuram, Bombay/Mumbai and Cochin/Kochi (not sure why those last two were tricky for the Brits), and these are just the examples I've come across since being here.
For the first time in India, we travelled on a real highway - the kind where you can go above 80 kph and with lane markings that are respected (most of the time). Technically it was supposed to be two lanes in each direction, but India isn't really a place for technicalities; the vehicles freely used the shoulder as an extra lane. We zipped past green fields, flowering trees and herds of cows. The sky was a bright, clear blue above us, but obscured along the horizon by dirty smog.
Arriving in Baroda, for the first time I felt like we were really far away from home. Here everything was coated in fine sand-like dust. The people riding scooters and motorcycles often had their full faces covered to keep it out. We stopped at traffic lights, and a girl approached the car and knocked on the window next to me, tapping her fingers to her lips to ask for food. I turned to Bindu, unsure what to do. She was young, maybe twelve years old, and staring straight at me. On one hand, we wouldn’t miss the money if we passed some to her, and we all wanted to help. On the other, we had no idea whose hands the money would really end up in, or what kind of cycle we might be perpetuating. It was difficult, but I kept the window up, and she moved on to the next car.
By the time we reached the hotel, passing through the metal detector at the entrance, I was thoroughly exhausted. We were supposed to settle for thirty minutes before going out again to visit Manu Uncle's wife and children, but I felt like I just couldn't. We'd been so busy, met so many people, and travelled so much over the past few days. Abhi stepped in to ask if I could stay back in the hotel for the night, and his parents agreed. He stayed with me and we ordered room service and watched a cheesy action movie, and then everything was alright.
Tuesday 17th December
We had borrowed a car from Ajay’s friend to use for our little trip to Baroda, but it had issues starting. We had to carefully roll it between the rows of cars in the parking lot until the engine started. I wish I had a photo of Abhi and the uniformed parking attendant pushing this dodgy little car outside the 5-star hotel.
Our first stop was the cemetery where Ajay’s parents and sister, and Ammachi’s sister, are buried. Large portions of the cemetery were rundown and overgrown, but the four we visited were in good condition. Someone had left flowers recently. Ajay wiped the thick dust off each of the tombstones.
Next we visited Kochapachan, the husband of Ammachi’s late sister. He was a lively and energetic older man with a knack for puns and twisting phrases. He gifted me with a handbag and Abhishek with a Kerala oil lantern.
Then we went to the street where Bindu grew up, and saw her old home. Neighbours poured out of their houses, unable to believe they were seeing her there again. We had many invitations to come in for tea, but were already running late for our next home visit.
We had lunch at the home of Raju Uncle, who had attended the same church as Ajay’s parents. Most of the time, however, we spent with his son, Dennis, because Raju Uncle was busy taking care of his sick wife. We debated over whether to stay for lunch at all, because we could hear Aunty crying out in her discomfort in the other room, but Dennis had made curries for us, and he insisted.
Next we went to the house where Ajay’s family had lived, and where Bindu also lived for a time after their marriage. Abhishek lived there until he was two years old, when the family moved to Pune. It was a simple square double-story house painted yellow at the end of a narrow street.
We stopped in to see Reji Uncle, who had been at school with Ajay, and his wife Binny Aunty, and his mother. They served us cake and tea. The tea here in Gujarat isn’t like the Kerala chai, it’s still milky but much stronger. Strangely delicious but difficult to drink at the same time. They gifted me with a saree of white cotton with gold lining, a style typical of Kerala.
We had an hour back at the hotel to prepare for the evening event: a formal dinner with 40+ expected family members. Many of the families had not seen them for a very long time. The evening played out much the same as the gathering of Ajay’s family on the 15th; we played the wedding video, Abhi gave a speech, had a buffet dinner and met many, many people.
Ajay and Bindu also spoke at the front to encourage their family members to not only know about God, but to know God himself. Judging from the little I’ve learned, Orthodox Christianity in India seems heavy in liturgy and traditions, but light on personal, private faith. Ajay and Bindu offered their family members to freely take from a table of Christian books they’d brought. They spoke of the LORD’s goodness in providing a job opportunity for Ajay in the right place (Australia) at the right time (2009), so that Vivek could receive Cochlear implants and lifelong NDIS support.
Afterwards we travelled back to the hotel. The last time we’d slept two consecutive nights at the same location was December 10th, seven days ago. We stayed up to open all the gifts we’d unexpectedly received at the dinner, then settled in for the night.
Wednesday 18th December
In the morning we went back to Raju Uncle’s house to drop off some delicious rice porridge (congee) we had for the buffet breakfast at the hotel for the sick Aunty. On the way out we were stopped by another neighbour who was overjoyed to see Ajay again, and extremely reluctant to let us go.
Then we bought tickets to a tour of the Lakshmi Villas Palace; 250 rupees per person for the others and 525 rupees for me. The palace was built in 1890 as the historical home of the Maharaja Gaekwad (ruling prince) of Baroda. Although the Gaekwad monarchy was abolished by the Indian government after independence, one third of the palace remains closed off today as a private residence for the current Maharaja of Baroda, Samarjitsinh Gaekwad, and his family.
The guided audio tour allowed us to explore the interior courtyard, manicured grounds, foyer, armoury, coronation room and ballroom (Darbar Hall). The entire palace was ornately decorated with intricate details, but the hall was the most beautiful room I’ve ever been in. It was stunningly designed, from the polished mosaic floor to the ceiling’s kaleidoscope of colour and everything in between.
Unfortunately, photography is prohibited inside the palace, but this Instagram post captures the beauty of the Darbar Hall:
Next we paid a visit to the museum, a separate multi-story building for displaying the Maharaja’s collection of international artworks. As someone who has explored the British Museum’s collection of artefacts from Asia, I was amused to walk through a museum in India, filled with paintings of England and Switzerland. My favourite piece was a small bronze sculpture of a man sitting with a map laid across his legs. The centre and corner of the map hung down as if limp, and when I looked closely, I could just make out the outline of countries and words etched on the map. Unfortunately we couldn’t take photos there either.
Saw this on the way out
We stopped at a store so Abhi could buy some cricket gear. I was waiting outside next to a monkey god shrine when a large cow wandered up to have a drink. Cows are considered sacred here, where the proportion of Hindus is much higher than in Kerala, so buckets are left out specifically for them to drink from. Bindu and I quickly scurried into the store until it passed.
We moved on to a restaurant to have thali for lunch, an assortment of veg dishes served into mini bowls on a large platter. The restaurant was in the building where Ajay and Bindu first met at an engagement party, when Ajay brought his Bible into the party so it didn’t have to be left outside with the scooter. It made an impression on Bindu at the time, but she would go on to study at university in Ahmedabad for four years before they met again.
We had some time at the hotel to prepare before the next dinner event, this time for Ajay and Bindu’s old friends. It was held in the outdoor courtyard of another hotel under the fairy lights. Reji Uncle and Binny Aunty would be present, so I wore the saree they gifted me, with the help of my ever-patient mother-in-law. Again we went through the now-standard format of introductions, wedding video and speeches. I said a few words to thank them for welcoming us so warmly, and gave my perspective on how special it is for Ajay and Bindu to have this community supporting them even though they’ve been overseas.
We ran into some traffic on the way
Towards the end, my feet and back were aching. My dinner plate had been cleared away when I was called for photos, and then the same thing happened again after I filled a second plate. I gave up on eating and instead took every opportunity I could to sit down. One of the women around my own age, Nidhee, came to check on me and gave me a hug, which I gratefully accepted. That gave me the extra support I needed to finish off the night. Nidhee and her fiancé Aditya gave myself, Abhi and Viv a lift to the hotel so Ajay and Bindu could continue chatting with the remaining guests.
Thursday 19th December
We checked out of the hotel, stopping on the way to visit Nidhee and Aditya at Mysa, one of their two cafés. They showed us the kitchen with the staff they’d hired locally and trained up, and spoke about the long hours and commitment they’d poured into it. Their hard work showed; Mysa was a little slice of serenity. We couldn’t stay for long because we had to get a flight back to Kochi, so they gave us extra cakes and pastries to take along with us.
On the way to the airport
It took another two hours to reach Ahmedabad airport. In that time Ajay became increasingly unwell, until he threw up into a plastic bag in the car. When we arrived, Abhi was starting to feel queasy as well. We narrowed the possible culprits down to either yesterday’s thali, or infection from someone at the event. But we managed to make it through security and back to Kochi without any more incidents.
Appacha and Ammachi met us at the airport again. At that point Abhi and I said our goodbyes and got into a separate taxi. We were about to start a portion of the trip I’d been very much looking forward to: three nights in a fancy hotel in Kochi, just for the two of us to relax. That was the idea, anyway. The reality turned out a bit different.
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