Perhaps, not everything this April has been cruel. For instance, the soothing pre-monsoon rains have not missed its summer date with the city, bringing with it a sense of fresh hope and much-needed life force for its myriad green lungs. Looking out of the window now, I can see the wet-green foliage still gently dripping from the rains that drifted down a while ago. Once the strictures over the lockdown become a thing of the past, I would head to the lush Museum compound in the heart of the city, a pleasing island of greenery amidst a concrete jungle. Then park myself for a while on one of the benches around the gazebo that still catches the attention of visitors with the punctual radio broadcasts through loudspeakers. I now terribly miss the pleasant times when I would take a stroll around the circular walkers' pathway there, often deep in conversation with some good friend. Long chats and stress-buster walks that inevitably wind up at the makeshift pop corn stalls by the Museum gates. Or, at other times, at one of the wayside tea stalls nearby that beckons me with their large glass boxes bearing snack trays, the very sight evoking an old-world charm.
A stone’s throw away is the rejuvenating Kanakakunnu grounds, also a cultural amphitheatre of the city, that invites me with its abundance of shrubbery, marked by cool tree shades.
But the city's real pull of the green perhaps echoes from much further, blessed with vast tracts of sylvan gems on the outskirts, from the Vellayani lake with its own unique ecosystem on one side to Peppara Wildlife Sanctuary on the other accessed via roads unrolling across bucolic beauty. Nevertheless, on my to-visit list would be the pristine hill station of Ponmudi (literally means the Golden Peak) with its winding roads pockmarked with swooning hairpin curves. But the sheer joy of the wiggling drive, flanked by breathtaking emerald vistas, is worth the daring.
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