ALLEPPEY’S CULLEN CONNECTION

(🚴‍♂️ Discovering Alleppey on a Bicycle 🚴‍♂️ )

Remembering Lt General William Cullen, the Soldier-Diplomat Who Made Alleppey His Home

        There are times when a bicycle ride through the familiar streets of Alleppey becomes much more than a ride. Every turn of the wheel seems to uncover a forgotten story; every canal, bridge and old street appears to whisper something about the Alleppey that once was.

         A few days ago, my bicycle took me along Cullen Road, one of Alleppey’s familiar thoroughfares connecting Mullackal, the heart of the town, to the Beach, running between and parallel to the Vadai Canal and the Commercial Canal.  🚴‍♀️

        As I pedalled along, a thought crossed my mind: How many of us ‘Alleppeyites’ have travelled along Cullen Road, crossed Cullen Bridge or heard the name “Cullen Saayip” without ever wondering who Cullen was - and why his name continues to live in our town even today?

         The name has sometimes been casually localised in popular speech as 'Kallan ' Road, or simply remembered as the old metalled road.     

          But behind that familiar name lies the story of an extraordinary man - a Scotland-born soldier who rose to become a distinguished British Resident, diplomat, administrator, scholar and naturalist, and who, after nearly two decades in Travancore, chose Alleppey as his home.

Lieutenant General William Cullen - The Resident Who Became a Son of the Soil

          Lieutenant General William Cullen (1785–1862) served as the British Resident at the Courts of Travancore and Cochin from 1840 to 1860, an exceptionally long tenure of nearly twenty years. He succeeded Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas Maclean, who died in 1840. 

   Cullen had arrived in India in 1804 as an officer of the Madras Artillery and went on to have a distinguished military career before entering the wider world of diplomacy and administration.

            But Cullen was no ordinary colonial officer.

    Beyond the uniform and official responsibilities of the Resident, he developed a remarkable fascination for the land in which he lived. He studied its people, languages, traditions and natural wealth. He became interested in Malayalam, Indian customs, botany, geology, astronomy, history and antiquities.

              In an age when many British officials remained essentially outsiders, Cullen appears to have immersed himself deeply in the intellectual and cultural life of Travancore.

       He was, in many ways, a soldier who became a scholar - and an administrator who developed a genuine affection for the country he served in.

A Resident and the Travancore Court

       Cullen's relationship with the Travancore Court appears to have been unusually cordial.

               His tenure coincided with the intellectually vibrant reign of Maharaja Swathi Thirunal, whose interests extended to music, astronomy, literature and the arts, and subsequently with the reign of Uthram Thirunal.

       Cullen also took a close interest in the quality of Travancore's administration. He respected capable administrators and senior officials. This was perhaps one of Cullen's distinguishing qualities: he could represent British interests firmly while simultaneously appreciating the abilities and achievements of the indigenous administration.

The Scholar Behind the Uniform

      Cullen's intellectual curiosity knew few boundaries. He wrote and corresponded on the geology, flora, culture, history and natural sciences of Travancore, contributing observations to learned journals and maintaining contact with scholars and scientific institutions.

              There is even evidence that he prepared material towards an English - Malayalam dictionary, material which was later referred to by the missionary-scholars.

       His interest in science was not merely academic. Cullen believed that knowledge of the land - its geology, minerals, flora and natural resources - could contribute to the economic development of Travancore.

                It is a fascinating dimension of his personality: beneath the formal uniform of the British Resident was a man driven by curiosity, scholarship and a desire to understand the country around him.

A Legacy in Thiruvananthapuram

        One of Cullen's enduring contributions was his association with the establishment of the institution that eventually became the Napier Museum in Thiruvananthapuram. The museum was established in 1857, and Cullen contributed geological specimens from his own collection. Thus, an institution that would eventually become one of Kerala's best-known cultural landmarks had, among its early influences, the initiative and scientific interests of the British Resident.

        For nearly two decades, Cullen stood at an important intersection between the British Government and the Travancore State. It was a period of considerable administrative, social and intellectual change.

Cullen and the Missionaries - A Complicated Chapter ✝️

         Yet Cullen's story is not without controversy. 

         His relationship with the Christian missionaries of Travancore became increasingly strained, particularly over questions concerning proselytisation, the position of Christian converts and the social changes being demanded in their favour.

          The missionaries increasingly saw themselves as champions of the oppressed and advocates of Christian equality. Cullen, however, viewed the matter from a different perspective. He was the Resident - the representative of the British Government, but also the intermediary with the Travancore State. His responsibility, as he saw it, was to preserve order, respect the authority of the Maharaja and ensure that administrative and social changes took place through lawful governmental processes rather than through missionary pressure.

          The missionaries regarded him as too conservative. Cullen, on the other hand, was reluctant to allow the Resident's office to become an instrument of missionary policy.

And therein lay the heart of the conflict.

 He found himself caught between competing pressures- between missionaries and converts demanding protection and equality on one side, and the Travancore administration and established social interests on the other. His instinct was to ensure that British authority did not become a substitute for the authority of the Travancore Government.

 That position eventually brought him into increasing conflict with missionary interests, and their grievances were carried beyond Travancore to the higher authorities of the Madras Presidency and the Government of India.

           And he came under unwarranted accusations and adverse aspersions.  After nearly twenty years of pristine service, Cullen resigned his office, formally relinquishing his position on 31 December 1859.

But Cullen Did Not Go Home

            And here, perhaps, lies the most touching chapter of the Cullen story. After spending almost twenty years in Travancore, Cullen had become so attached to the land that he did not return to Britain after his retirement.

     He stayed. He chose Alleppey.

             The British soldier and diplomat who had once represented the British Government at the court of the Maharaja decided to spend the remainder of his life in the country that had become his home.

               And in 1862, he died in Alleppey.

Cullen Memorial 

    His niece, Marion F. Marjoribanks, erected a memorial to him in the compound of the CSI Church near Kochukada Paalam, on the north bank of the Commercial Canal - today associated with Thomas Norton Road- where he was laid to rest.

              The inscription on the monument is particularly poignant:

“To Lt General William Cullen,

 Who as Resident at the court of the Rajah of Travancore and Cochin twenty years, from 1840 to 1860, was no less devoted to the British Government which he represented, than to the development of the best interests of the population and the country, which he had made his home.”

              Those last words say something profound:

               “The country, which he had made his home.” - For me, that is perhaps the most enduring tribute to Cullen.

The Silent Graves of Old Alleppey

             The cemetery of the CSI Church in Alleppey holds another fascinating, largely forgotten chapter of our town's colonial past. Tucked away in its quiet corners are old graves bearing the names of British men, women and children - among them military officers and members of their families. Some date back to the nineteenth century, when Alleppey was emerging as one of the most important commercial and maritime centres of the Malabar coast.

              Standing before these weathered tombstones inevitably raises questions.

              Were some of these officers posted here temporarily? Did some come to Alleppey in connection with its thriving port and commerce Or, like Cullen, did they eventually choose this distant corner of Travancore as their adopted home?

              Perhaps some simply found here a climate, landscape and way of life that had become familiar and dear to them.

              The CSI Church would naturally have been an important spiritual and social centre for the Christian and European community of those days.

              Today, these old tombstones are far more than markers of the dead. They are silent witnesses to another Alleppey - an Alleppey of sailing ships, bustling canals, busy warehouses, European merchants, soldiers, administrators and families who lived out their lives far from the land of their birth.

              Every epitaph seems to whisper a story.

              A military career.! A family separated from home.! A life spent in the service of an empire.! And, sometimes, an unexpected love for Alleppey.!!

              The inscriptions of Captain James Power and Eliza, wife of Captain James Falconer, among others, offer tantalising glimpses into this forgotten chapter of our town's history.

And Then There Was “Cullen Home” …

               But Cullen's story has a personal connection for me too. As a boy of perhaps eleven or twelve, I remember seeing an old, stately bungalow near the present SBI branch, close to the YMCA Bridge.

              It bore an intriguing name: - “Cullen Home.”

               As a young boy, I often wondered about the rather grand and exotic name attached to that house. What made it even more intriguing was that the house was, at the time, occupied by one of my father's close friends, Mr P. A. Punnoose Kutty Maman - our beloved “Uncle.”

              The old bungalow has long since disappeared, replaced by a commercial complex.

      But now, after learning more about William Cullen, that childhood memory has returned with a new meaning.

               I cannot help wondering: Was that the very “Cullen Home” where General William Cullen spent his final years? 🤔 There are also suggestions that his residence may have been somewhere around Sea View Ward, near the Beach.

                I cannot say with certainty.😟

               Perhaps further research - or an old map, municipal record, family document or forgotten photograph - may one day solve the mystery.

       And perhaps that is what makes history so fascinating. Sometimes, it begins with nothing more than a childhood memory.

Cullen Saayip - An Alleppey Story That Refuses to Disappear

              Today, William Cullen's name survives quietly in the landscape of Alleppey:

      Cullen Road.

              Cullen Bridge.

              Cullen Home.

              And the memorial of “Cullen Saayip.”

               The man himself has been gone for more than 160 years. Yet his name remains woven into the everyday fabric of our town. He came to Travancore as a British Resident. He served the British Crown as a soldier and diplomat. He engaged with the Travancore State as an administrator and intermediary.  He explored Kerala as a scholar and naturalist.

      He sometimes found himself in controversy as a reformer and custodian of administrative prudence.

              And finally, he chose to remain here - not in Britain, but in Alleppey.

             He died here. He was buried here. And, in a quiet sense, he became part of the story of this town.

A Soldier Who Became an Alleppeyite

              History rarely gives us people who can be neatly placed into categories.

              Cullen was a product of his time, and his legacy inevitably carries the complexities and contradictions of the colonial era.

              But history should also allow us to acknowledge the individual behind the office.

              A soldier. A distinguished military officer. A diplomat. A scholar. A naturalist. An administrator. A man who could have returned to his homeland after nearly twenty years of service - but chose instead to remain in the land that had captured his imagination and affection.

      **He came here as the Resident of Travancore.  He remained in Alleppey by choice. And he died here as one of the many people - near and far - whose lives became intertwined with the story of this remarkable town.**

               Perhaps that is the real joy of “Discovering Alleppey on a Bicycle.” 🚴‍♂️ The bicycle takes us forward. But the names beneath our wheels take us backwards through time. So, the next time we pedal along Cullen Road, cross Cullen Bridge, or pass the quiet memorial of “Cullen Saayip” near Kochukada Paalam, perhaps we might pause for a moment.

      Look around. 🚴‍♂️ 🚴‍♂️

               And remember the man behind the name.

               Lieutenant General William Cullen  -  Soldier. Scholar. Diplomat. Administrator. Resident of Travancore. And, ultimately, an “Alleppeyite” by choice. 🙏🫡

               And as I continue my bicycle rides through the streets of the town that has been my cradle of childhood, Brindavana of youth and Varanasi of old age, I realise that Alleppey still has countless stories waiting to be discovered.

     All we have to do is keep pedalling. 🚴‍♂️

        🚴‍♂️ Discovering Alleppey, one road - and one forgotten story - at a time. 🚴‍♂️ 🤔

-               - Ravi Nair -

 

When Alleppey and rest of the Nation  Kept Time Without Wristwatches.

  (  A nostalgic journey from the 1950s to the 1970s and Beyond. )

      

      Watching the Amazon Prime serial "Titan - Made in India", about the making of India’s first quartz watch and the remarkable story of how India challenged the centuries-old dominance of Swiss watchmakers, set me thinking.

        It took me back to the Alleppey of the 1950s - to the years when I was beginning to make some sense of the world around me.

        Today, a wristwatch is almost taken for granted. In fact, for the younger generation, the watch as a timepiece has almost disappeared altogether. The mobile phone has taken over that job, and now the smartwatch has entered the scene - part chronograph, part mobile phone, and perhaps part personal assistant!

        But there was a time when a wristwatch was a prized possession, a symbol of status and, for many of us, very much a luxury.

Alleppey - sans wristwatches

        In our locality and family in those days, the only wristwatch I remember seeing regularly was my father's West End - a beautiful rectangular, golden-cased Swiss watch with a matching chain and, proudly displayed on its dial, the words “10 Jewels.” It was a manual-winding mechanical watch.

        For us children, Father's watch was almost a forbidden object. Touching it was strictly prohibited. But whenever the opportunity presented itself and the watch happened to be lying unattended, we would quietly sneak up, pick it up and check the time.

        Those few seconds of holding it in our hands gave us an inexplicable sense of privilege - as though we had temporarily acquired a piece of adulthood!

        At home, fortunately, we had a large wall clock with a long oscilating pendulum. It had to be wound manually every day. Its most distinctive feature was its gong - a hammer striking a spring and announcing every hour with a deep, resonant chime that could be heard throughout the house, day and night.

        We too had a Philips Holland valve radio at home, switched on every morning when my father awoke. The valves and the glowing “magic eye” took their own sweet time to warm up before the radio came alive. Then, precisely at 5.50 a.m., came the familiar strains of All India Radio’s signature tune, 'Raga Sivaranjini', composed by Walter Kaufmann.

        For generations of Indians, that haunting melody was the sound of a new day beginning - and, in the days before wristwatches were commonplace, it was also the nation’s unofficial timekeeper.

        In Alleppey, too, the first strains of 'Sivaranjini' (signature tune of All India Radio) drifting from homes, teashops and hotels meant that clocks were checked, mornings began, and the town slowly stirred to life.

        But that raises an interesting question:

        How did people keep time when hardly anyone owned a wristwatch?

        The answer is fascinating. We had an entire network of clocks, bells, religious invocations, sirens, whistles, aircraft and even natural phenomena - none of them requiring batteries, chargers or Wi-Fi - which kept the whole town in rhythm.

Alleppey had its own timekeepers

        To begin with, there were temple bells and the 'kathina' - those miniature cannon-like crackers with gunpowder,  whose explosions announced various temple rituals. There were church bells, and of course the 'baanku vili' (Aazan ) - the call to prayer at mosques - at its prescribed intervals.

        These were not merely religious sounds. They were part of Alleppey's informal public timekeeping system.

        One of my earliest memories of time was associated with a Dakota aircraft carrying The Hindu newspapers to the capital Trivandrum. Almost every morning, at around six o'clock, the aircraft would fly past the Alleppey shoreline. Most people were already awake by about 5.30, and many of us would instinctively wait for the familiar drone of the Dakota to reluctantly shed the bed. The aircraft itself had become a morning time signal.

        Then there was the siren from the Alleppey Municipality office, which sounded at intervals of two or three hours. People knew its pattern and instinctively used it to estimate the time.

Then the factories kept the town ticking.

        Alleppey was then a thriving centre of the coir industry, with large British and German companies employing hundreds of people. Names such as Pierce Leslie, William Goodacre, Darrah Smail, Aspinwall and Madura Company were familiar landmarks of the town's commercial life.

        Their factory sirens formed another part of our informal timekeeping system. The sirens announced the beginning of work, recess, shift changes and the end of the working day. Each factory had its own rhythm, and the people of Alleppey knew the pattern almost as well as they knew the temple bells, church bells or 'azan' from mosques.

        The remarkable thing was that the system worked. Employees reported for work on time. Students reached school before the bell. Shops opened and closed at expected hours. Buses and boats were caught without anybody staring anxiously at a mobile phone. And, importantly, “I didn't have a watch” was never considered an acceptable excuse!

The sun, the moon and the sundial

        Long before watches became commonplace, people also looked upwards. The position of the sun or that of your own shadow provided a fairly reliable indication of the hour during the day. At night, the moon and stars served as natural companions for those who understood their movements. Even the rise and fall of the tides, transmitted through the backwaters into the hinterland, provided useful clues to the passage of time.

        I still remember the sundial at SDV High School - reputedly one of its kind in South India.

             To a child accustomed to clocks, a sundial seemed almost magical: time itself being measured by a shadow cast by the sun.Today, a sundial might appear quaint. To us then, it was a living lesson in how our ancestors understood and measured time.

“What time is it?”

        There was another little social custom that has almost disappeared. If you were fortunate enough to own a wristwatch, people passing by would frequently ask:

        "Chetta samayam ethra aayi ? (“ What time is it?”)

        Nobody seemed irritated by the question.

        In fact, wearing a wristwatch and being asked the time was almost an acknowledgement of one's modest affluence. The watch was not merely a timepiece. It was something worth noticing.

        I became the proud owner of my first wristwatch when I went to college - 'Kingsley' a modest American  pin-lever watch.

        It was certainly not as sophisticated as Father's West End and, if memory serves me right, had an irritating habit of developing problems at precisely the wrong time.

        But it was mine. And that made all the difference.!!

        It was also quite in order to display one's watch prominently, with the wrist resting casually on a friend's shoulder, in college group photographs.

        That was not accidental.! That was watchmanship!

From college to Olive Greens 

        When I joined the Army towards the end of the 1960s, the watch landscape had changed considerably. HMT watches were the preferred choice for many of us.

        I still remember an HMT watch kept in a glass-topped box at the Unit Quarter Guard. The Guard Commander handled it with almost ceremonial reverence. The inspecting officers religiously check its serviceability and upkeep.

        The hourly chimes, of the Quarter Guard bell goaded by this watch carried through the barracks by the became part of the rhythm of military life.

        A few HMT Jawan watches were issued to key appointment holders and were treated almost as controlled items - not unlike the regiment's rocket launchers and US wireless sets!

        In the unit, watches were still not something everybody possessed. Apart from officers and certain key appointments, most soldiers did not have one. Yet the entire unit functioned with remarkable punctuality.

        The Quarter Guard gong, the bugles - Reveille and Retreat - whistles and the calls of appointment holders were enough to keep everyone moving. Time was not something we carried on our wrists. It was something the whole unit lived by.

        I also remember the Army Canteen in those days.

        Watches were much in demand and often available only after a long wait. On one occasion, I bought an HMT Sona ladies' watch for my sister. It cost me ₹150. My monthly salary then was a princely ₹350!

        Looking back, I am not sure whether I was being generous to my sister or reckless with my finances. Perhaps both.

And then came Titan

        And then came Titan made in India.

        Suddenly, watches became more accessible, more stylish and more aspirational. The watch was no longer merely an instrument for measuring time. It became an expression of personality, taste and, occasionally, one's ability to impress others.

        Swiss watches continued to command enormous prestige - and their prices reflected it.

        But HMT and Titan brought something different: a good watch within the reach of ordinary Indians. Eventually, quartz technology transformed the watch itself.

        The humble mechanical watch, which had demanded winding and care, was gradually replaced by something that seemed almost miraculous to us: A watch that kept time without being wound!

        That was progress.

What we gained - and what we lost-

        Looking back today, the journey from Father's hand-wound West End to HMT, and from HMT to Titan and quartz watches, is much more than the story of a gadget.

        It is, in many ways, the story of changing India.

        In the 1950s, we did not need a watch to tell us every five minutes what we were supposed to do.The town itself kept time.

        Today, we have a clock on the wall - perhaps in every room. A watch on the wrist. A clock in the car. A computer on the desk. A mobile phone in the pocket. And, for good measure, a smartwatch on the wrist.

        Yet we still receive reminders telling us when to wake up, when to leave, when to attend a meeting, when to take a break and, occasionally, when to go to bed.

        Perhaps the greatest irony is that we have never had so many ways of knowing the time - and yet seem to have less time than ever before.

        For those of us who grew up in the Alleppey of the 1950s, a wristwatch was not merely something that told us what time it was.

        It told us something about who we were, where we had arrived in life, and how far the world had travelled. From a Dakota flying over the Arabian Sea to a smartwatch receiving messages from satellites, the journey has been extraordinary.

And yet, somewhere in that journey, something has quietly disappeared.

        We no longer listen for the factory siren.

        We no longer wait for the Dakota.

        We no longer calculate the hour by the position of the sun.

        We certainly don't ask the gentleman wearing a watch, “What time is it?”

        And perhaps that is why, even today, the memory of Father's old West End remains more precious than any watch I have worn since.

        It did not merely keep time.

        It kept a piece of my childhood. 💖

      

                                                                                                                                      - Ravi Nair-

#discovering Alleppey

 

 

Valiya Dewan Ji Raja Kesava Das

(Discovering Alleppey on a bicycle )

       

         As I cycle through the familiar streets, Canal bank roads and crisscross the twin canals of my beloved Alleppey (Alappuzha), I am continually drawn to reflect on the extraordinary vision of the man who transformed this once-sleepy coastal hamlet into one of Travancore’s most vibrant and well-planned port towns - our Valiya Dewanji, Raja Kesavadas. 

        Born as Kesava Pillai on 17 March 1745, he had little formal education, yet possessed exceptional intellect, administrative acumen, and a natural understanding of people, terrain, and opportunity. Recognising these rare qualities, Maharaja Karthika Thirunal Rama Varma - Dharma Raja - brought him into the service of the Travancore Palace. Over time, Kesava Pillai rose to become one of the most distinguished soldiers, administrators, and visionaries in Travancore’s history.

        When Tippu Sultan attacked Travancore, Kesava Pillai was the Chief of the State Army. Travancore army fought against the Tippu’s force under the leadership of Kesava Pillai and Tippu was forced to retreat.

        December 29th stands etched in history as Nedumkotta Victory Day, a proud testament to Travancore’s unyielding spirit and righteous defiance. When Tipu Sultan of Mysore unleashed his expansionary punitive expeditions (locally known as 'Tipuvinte Pada ottam') across Kodugu and Malabar - marked by temple desecration, plunder, and forced conversions and later turned his covetous gaze toward the sacred wealth of Sree Padmanabha Swamy of Travancore, by demanding the surrender of refugees, especially Nairs, who had fled to Travancore from Malabar seeking safety.

        Dharma Raja Karthika Thirunal Rama Varma Maharaja answered with moral clarity and royal courage , 'protecting those who seek refuge is 'dharma'.

        This uncompromising stand made war inevitable - and Travancore kingdom prepared for battle. The Raja purchased Cranganore (Kodungallur) and Pallipuram forts from the Dutch and strengthened the Travancore lines, which further angered Tipu.The Travancore forces under the generalship of Kesava Pillai with legendary commanders such as Vaikom Padmanabha Pillai, the master of eighteen 'kalaris', stood at the forefront.

        The formidable defensive rampart of Nedumkotta, near Tichur bordering Travancore, designed and built under Captain Mark de Lannoy (Valiya Kappithan)- a former Dutch officer - stretched nearly 35 miles, fortified with deep moats, secret tunnels, and impregnable defenses. It stood as a wall of resolve against Tipu's ambition.

        On December 24, 1789, Tipu encamped near Nedumkotta with an army of 30,000. On the 28th and 29th, fierce assaults were launched - but they shattered against the indomitable resistance of the Paravur Battalion.

        In a masterstroke of battlefield strategy, Tipu’s troops were allowed to breach the outer defenses, only to be drawn deep inside. Then, from hidden tunnels, Padmanabha Pillai’s 'Chaver Pada' (suicide squads) surged forth in a sudden, ferocious counterattack.

        Trapped between fire and steel, front and rear, Mysore’s soldiers plunged into the moats in chaos. Tipu himself was wounded in a duel with Padmanabha Pillai and forced to retreat. The fierce monsoons and the news of British forces advancing to Mysore also gave impetus to Tipu's hasty withdrawal. He had not recovered from his incapacitation suffered then till his last days.

        Victory crowned Travancore (Thiruvithankoor). Tipu’s sword, royal signet ring, and the battle Standards were solemnly presented to Dharma Raja.

        That very flag continues to be displayed even today during the annual 'Aaraattu' ritual of Sree Padmanabha Swamy when the head of the Travancore Royal Family leads the procession on foot with a sword in hand, escorted by caprisoned elephants, armed police and guards  - a living symbol of triumph and 'dharma'.

        Recognizing his victory over the Mysore, the Karthika Thirunal Maharaja appointed Kesava Pillai as Dewan of Travancore. He was further glorified by the British Governor Mornington, by the title ‘Raja’ in appreciation of his administrative talents.

        As Dewan, Raja Kesavadas was responsible for Development of Alappuzha port. The transformation of Alleppey since then, from a sleepy hamlet hemmed between lagoon and Sea, is all a history.

        But, how many of us fancy how Alleppey would’ve looked sans the Twin Canals, the sea port, the migrant entrepreneurs and above all benign personal indulgence of our Valiya Diwan Ji ?. 

        So let’s visit Alleppey of the late 17th century. To get a feel, you have to read a wonderful book about the locale - words of which would be valid even today. The Book is ‘Wanderer’s Log (An Indian Venice )’ by Carl Eric Bechhoffer*. (*C E Bechhoffer Roberts was a British author, barrister, and journalist.)

        He writes :-

        “Imagine a narrow spit of sand, covered with coconut palms; on one side of it the waves of the Indian Ocean are beating in a continual foam. Few boats would dare to put out from this shore, lest they should be caught in the surf and swamped. But barely fifty yards away, on the other side of the palm-covered spit, lies a vast and placid lagoon. The wind that is tearing the sea into fury is averted from the surface of the lagoon by the impenetrable barrier of palms; but it sweeps over a few feet above the waters and fills the sails of numberless boats. The sea is desolate, except for one or two daring fishing craft and a tramp steamer quite half a mile from the shore. But the lagoon teems with life, covered with the tracks of sailing-boats and canoes. This propinquity of sea and lagoon is the characteristic of the coast of South-West India from a distance north of Cochin almost all the way to Trivandrum, the capital city of the State of Travancore.”

        Those of us who are born in 1940s can envisage this picture more clearly and relate the flights of fancy to ground.

        Valiya Diwan's all time contribution is finding an ideal location and constructing a well planned port city for the State of Travancore. He found Alappuzha (Alleppey) which literally means 'land between the sea and the river' (Ala and Puzha) the most suitable. He recognised the extraordinary geographical advantage of the area - the proximity to the sea, the vast inland waterways, and the natural channels for transporting goods deep into the hinterland of Western Ghats.. ie. six primary rivers - Periyar, Muvattupuzha, Pamba, Meenachil, Manimala, and Achankovil, carrying freshwater into the Vembanad lake , which is in proximity to sea yet not connected.

        He constructed two parallel canals connecting the lagoon and the sea for bringing goods to port and offered infrastructural facilities to merchants and traders from neighbouring States and far away business centres like Sind, Marward, Surat, Kutch, Kongani (GSB) migrants and Parsis , Memons etc to start industrial and commercial enterprises , cargo centres and warehouses. All these happening nearly 3 centuries back !

        Alleppey was famed as the most well planned town. The port town was planned around these two canals ( Vadai Canal and Commercial Canal) and became the financial nerve centre of Travancore during his time; the port was opened in 1762 for the export of coir-matting and coir-yarn. His tenure of Dewan ended with demise of Dharma Raja Karthika Thirunal Rama Varma- I, in 1798.

        The Palace intrigues found Raja Kesavadas proclaimed as a traitor and kept under house arrest, where he died under mysterious circumstances on 21/4/1799. 🙏

        May every Alleppeyite be obliged and grateful to our Valiya Dewan Ji . Our solemn homage to a great General, Administrator, Architect and a Visionary.

        The Battle of Nedumkotta remains a blazing chapter in Travancore’s resistance history - a shining example of Travancore’s valor, strategic brilliance, and moral strength. It is not merely a story of the past, but a heritage of pride and courage that must be carried forward to future generations.

        Unfortunately this epoch of valor is somehow absent from the curriculum for reasons inexplicable. 

        Nearly three centuries later, as I cycle along these very canals, cross its bridges, and watch boats glide through its waterways, it is difficult not to admire the foresight of the man who conceived this urban landscape.

        It is satisfying that a stately statue of valiya Diwan Ji Raja Kesava Das is consecrated at Changanassery Junction at Kalarkode. Where the NH 66 meets the elevated Alleppey Bypass. Shelving political exigencies it would be in all propriety to name the Bypass as Raja Kesavadas Bypass - fore, after all, he was the founder of Alleppey. 

                                                                                                                                                                                    -Ravi Nair-

                                                                                                               #discovering alleppey on a bicycle