Story: Beware the Banana Peals

Kudle (kood-lee) Beach is a perfect crescent of sand just over the headland from the holy Hindu village of Gokarna. Nestled back into the palms and cassurias lining the beach are a handful of chai shops, many of whom operate some basic hut accomodation. My Ritz-Carlton standards have certainly fallen to the wayside as I've trotted about the globe, but this was a new definition of "basic" for me. A rickety dirt-floored hut that the Big Bad Wolf could send sprawling with an allergic sneeze, was merely a place to drop my pack. My "bed" was a bamboo platform with a wafer-thin mat, the shower an elevated barrel with spiggot and the toliet was a trench (the "Shitting Field") behind the pasture on the right. But as is the case with real estate the world over, its all about location, location, location. My hut enjoyed the shade of an enormous tree that sent multiple massive trunks like tentacles out from a single root source, with a blue and yellow hammock strung aloft from one; the perfect spot for doing nothing as Hindu pilgrims and sunworshippers ambled by on the beach. The huts enjoyed the beach frontage, but behind is where the action took place. A typically extended Indian family filled their days with all of the various chores of an agricultural based existence. Laundry was beaten on the rocks, fields were tended to, naan baked in simple fired ovens, water brought up from the well as kids ran about, slapping the cows on the backside with a willow branch, or tormenting the chickens for fun. While I was there, work was ongoing for their own little temple. On the Western front, most foreigners hanging there were in for the long haul and had ingratiated themselves into local custom as much as possible. One Swedish gentleman had been coming back for the past nine years, and recounted for me the development of some of the children and the changes that had taken place overall. But in the end, he said, not much had really changed, nor did it appear as if development would be over-running Kudle Beach anytime soon.

After my five days on the beach, I moved into the village for the upcoming Shivarati Festival. Gokarna is a very holy place to Hindus and the town was filled to bursting with holy men, pilgrims, vendors and a slew of mobile beggars looking to cash in on those hoping for the good blessings of Shiva in the coming months. There seemed to be offerings and blessings and genuflecting going on all over town leading up to the main event: the pulling of a massive 20m+ chariot down the main street. I never really did get a good answer on the why's of the festival, and opted instead to just roll with the mayhem. I'm pretty sure it all goes back to that whole "offerings to appease the gods" thing, and in this case, Shiva apparently LOVES bananas! Dozens of people roamed the streets selling off bananas for a rupee each, and everyone took their hand at hurling those bright yellow little projectiles into the top of the chariot. My score? Out of my bunch of ten, six were on target and two went down as a snack. As for how many people landed on their backside from a banana peel slip, official numbers are dodgy and thus its difficult to gauge. I'll assume plenty, given my Looney Tunes upbringing. Beyond the inherent banana-fueled danger of slips/falls and eyes taken out, there was ample music and mayhem on the crowded sweaty dusty streets, as scores of men pulled with all their might to get that sucker ambling along. Once they had momentum on their side, all was good. It appears that the hard part is breaking the standstill inertia. Would have loved to have helped, but was pretty content on my rooftop perch, safely above that insane street scene.