Late in the afternoon when the harshness of the sun had reduced over the back waters of Alappuzha on  August 10th 2001, I was strolling over the arrangements made here on the eve of the boat race. A number of officials from different sections of the government were looking into various arrangements varying from temporary infrastructure set up to the security for the next day's event.

A lot of vendors selling food stuff and soft drinks were busy giving the final touches to their shacks. In the center stage, the participants were busy warming up under the close scrutiny of the coach. The real difference here is that their 'Chundans' (snake boats) are not the modern, state-of-the-art yachts one sees in the western world. They are made from the finest teakwood in the ancient architectural method by the so-called 'Tachans' (those who design and build the snake boats) who are now fewer in number. They follow their own method of calculation as inherited from their forefathers after many years of apprenticeship. 

It was soon going to be dark and I could see colourful lightings at specific areas of the venue. The backwaters here are known as 'Punnamudi Kayal' (kayal means backwater) and the total distance for the race is 1,300 meters. The route is slightly curved as one moves towards the finish line for the race. The winning team gets a trophy made of gold and silver in the shape of a snake boat, but ironically named The Nehru Trophy (in memory of Mr. Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Prime Minister of India). The chief guest for that year was Mr. O. Rajagopal, the Minister for Railways in the Central Government. 

The next morning, the galleries were ready and well marked for spectators, distinguished persons and the press. I must admit that the amount of effort put in every year at this time by all the people organizing this event is like a mirror image of what Kerala has to offer to her visitors especially the foreigners, who camp in the township of Alappuzha to watch the show.

towards their allotted slots. The participants were in a pair of shorts or a 'lungi' (a two meter long cotton material worn around the waist) with their bodies well oiled for the race. A week prior to the race the 'chundans' are given a coating of egg shells mixed in fish oil every day in order to give the wood a glazy finish and to increase its mobility in water. In the midst of all this I happened to meet Mr. Anil, a resident of rural Alappuzha, who was a volunteer for this event. 

Mr. Anil was dressed in the traditional 'kasavu mundu' (hand weaved 2 meter long dhoti worn around the waist) and a cotton beige shirt on which was pinned a volunteer badge indicating that he was a volunteer at the event. Soon we heard the countdown to the gunshot and finally the trigger was pulled to the excitement of the crowd. 

In a flash the restless snake boats sprung to life with a frenzy splash, smoothly navigating their way through the water. The motivating factor in the midst of all this was the chorus of slogans chanted by the leader of each 'chundan' and the crowd too joined them with rhythmic whistles. It was very difficult to gauge the lead of the few leading 'chundans', as the difference was very narrow. However the race ended with jubilant shouts by the winning team and the commentary also raced up to the occasion of cheering for the winning side. The trophy was ceremoniously presented to the 'Karachal Chundan' team that came in first place.

For the next two hours fire crackers brought the place alive along with country style dancing by the local crowd. Meanwhile most of the spectators moved home. It was late in the evening when I was walked back along with Anil as he described how hectic the week before the race was. I enquired about his family. He told me about his three older sisters. Although he was 23 years of age he still hadn’t found a permanent job. He casually remarked how difficult it was to lose his father while he was in the 11th grade and why he could not pursue his education beyond the 12th grade as the responsibility of providing for his family fell on his shoulders. At present he worked as a labourer in locations ranging from paddy fields to construction sites on a temporary basis. He accompanied me to the bus station and all through the short walk we shared many of our experiences and thoughts.  I thanked him for all the assistance he gave me and finally I got onto the bus and as it veered off onto the road I waved Anil good bye. But not long afterwards, there was a huge traffic block as the celebrations had overflowed from the prestigious backwaters onto the streets. As I sat in the bus, I looked forward to witnessing another one of these exciting events in the following year and also hoped to find Anil again, as he promised to be there too.