A few days ago, something interesting caught my eye: a black-and-white photograph peering back at me, depicting an unknown person against an unknown backdrop. Soon I began noticing more of them throughout the metro, each bearing the insignia of the artist collective Ozzy Gatto. These photographs come from the personal relics of Ozzy's collection, spanning decades into the past while transforming the metro into a moving museum. In a radio interview from five years ago, one of the collective's two representatives alluded to the purpose of the project: to serve as a unifying thread between the early twentieth century and the present day. To me, these photographs feel especially reminiscent of the subway tunnel connecting the metro to the central train station. They lend a poetic coherence to us travellers as we move through space and time, much as the people captured in those images once did themselves.
We thought ourselves rather lucky to arrive amid crustaceans, but when we began driving towards Thiruvananthapuram this morning, our true goal was to find a grand lunch served on a traditional banana leaf. And so we did, thanks to our expert driver. You know how people sometimes say the best restaurants are the ones that slightly disrespect you—not obnoxiously, but in an oddly endearing way? This lunch stood as a testament to focusing solely on the food while every other distraction faded quietly into the background. Long after we were back on the road towards the beach at Kovalam, I still found myself dwelling on the savoury curries and beetroot chutney. Even now, the memory oppressively saddens my palate as I lament the distance, both in time and geography, between myself and that meal. And now, having brought it all back to mind, I shall let you share in my despair. Speaking of downers, we arrived in Kovalam just in time for a cosy sunset, so we decided to stroll along the shor...