When I was introduced to a mask? — I asked myself this question, as I travelled back home after a long gap of over two years. I had never been a person who veiled myself from the world, and I always love to interact with people, looking into their eyes, and watching their expressions. But a tiny virus toppled everything, and like the billions world over I also took refuge in a mask, which remains almost an extension of my body to this date!

However, while looking around during the drive from the airport, I felt odd, because the mask is no longer a part of the life of most of the people here though the government order still remains the same. Even those who pretend to wear it prefer to cover their chin with it, a style that many people follow here diligently to tell ‘Go Corona Go’!

But, I was trying to recollect those people who left this world after falling prey to the deadly virus. Thousands are there, and a few were intimate to me. But the cycle of life goes on and on, I said to myself. Then, God’s own country is also the capital of accidents. For a moment I got frozen. If we are not trained to drive on the wider four-lane roads, how will the ‘speed-a-holic’ society prevent the potential mishaps? But the optimist in me says Malayalis find a way out of every labyrinth!

Yes, it is that optimism in a Malayali which brings me here quite often.

As I try fixing my mask, the driver smiles. They have all come out of the grip of coronavirus. Or, rather they pretend to be free from all shackles. That’s the Malayali confidence I love, despite their unbridled pessimism.

Coming from Oman, where the law is stringent, and also accustomed to following the rules, I preferred to hide behind the mask till I reached home. But I know my people have also bid adieu to the days of masks, thus making me the odd one out!

As it drizzled, I watched God’s Own Country through the hazy window panes of the speeding car. The roads have changed, and the world too. Two long years felt almost like infinity for me, because I frequented my home quite often on one pretext or the other amidst my professional life.

Despite being an expatriate who spends more time in Oman, And other places, I feel more attached to this place, which is an extended village with urban amenities. Yes, I have many reservations as well, especially with regard to the over-politicised approach of the society that always gets engrossed in scandals after scandals.

No front-page news here inspires me. Saritha, solar, Swapna, gold smuggling, murder, vendetta, bribe, disproportionate asset… I miserably fail to get an inspiring story from here. Even the beauty of Kerala’s monsoon was ‘discovered’ by a foreigner. What an irony!

Petrichor, the pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather became an experience for British-Australian travel writer Alexander Frater, who wrote an evocative travel book, “Chasing the Monsoon: A modern pilgrimage through India”, which began from Kerala and went up to Chirapunji! The book on the Indian monsoon, and then the BBC documentary made the monsoon in Kerala a tourist attraction.

Kerala outsources everything and exports its manpower! We know more about the dollar, dirham and dinar than the Indian rupee! We live a life of Euro standard and nothing can arouse the curiosity of an average Malayali because everything from fashion to technology reaches here the moment it is introduced elsewhere.

That is the magic of Kerala.

Tomorrow, I’ll be going back to Oman. As I fly over the clouds, I will cherish the memories… the lush green landscape, the rivulets… the hills and valleys…. Slowly they fade from the eyes and I would just take a nap. On the other end, my office awaits my return! I dream of the next vacation!