Maveli in the Pothole Republic

Illustration by Copilot Designer

I was trying to navigate the moonscape they call a ‘national highway’ when my shoe vanished into a crater big enough to host the G20 summit. Out of it rose a tall figure, crowned and regal, though with a slight limp.

“Maveli!” I exclaimed.

“Yes,” he said grimly. “Your roads are terrible. I thought the netherworld was bad, but this—this is hell on asphalt.”

I helped him up. “Don’t worry, Maveli, our leaders say we’re heading toward becoming a global economic superpower. See, even Donald Trump is impotent before our might.”  

Maveli frowned. “Yes, yes. I saw your leader guffawing in the company of Putin and Xi Jinping. When he’s in the company of world leaders, he behaves like a little boy who’s got his coveted toy.”

“Are you a little jealous of him, Maveli?” I asked.

“I have reasons to be, but I’m not. Let him enjoy his limelight. A day will come when history will put its merciless foot on his head and send him to his own Patala.”

That’s just what history had done to Maveli. He was the ideal king of Kerala. During his reign, the kingdom was a utopia. All citizens were happy. No cheating, no corruption, no dishonesty. Then the gods became jealous and chose to send Maveli to Patala, the netherworld.

Apart from the Gods-versus-Asuras issue, there was also an Aryan-Dravidian conflict in the story. Vamana was an Aryan god and Maveli was a Dravidian king. But I didn’t feel like asking Maveli about that. In one of the umpteen versions of the Maveli story, the King’s last words are reported to be: “Typical Aryan move: make a trivial request, then capture everything by deception.”

Deception is an integral part of Aryan Dharma. Rama and Krishna, all employed it without hesitation as the situation demanded. They had the Brahmin priests who could then write Sanskrit shlokas to justify all such deeds. The Dravidians must have been quite naïve not to understand the Aryan cunning.

It’s no use digging up such old history, however. Unless you want to create problems and thus garner votes. Neither Maveli nor I am interested in political power. So we moved on, on the pothole-ridden national highway. When we came to a bridge, Maveli hesitated.

“Will this collapse before we reach the other end?”

Maveli had reasons to be afraid. In the last 5 years, more than 170 bridges collapsed in India. In 2024 alone,48 of them came crumbling down.

I was not sure whether to defend my present country or feel nostalgic about my heritage from Maveli.

“I can understand your dilemma,” Maveli said. He must be having some App for reading other people’s minds. Who knows how far advanced technology may be down there in the world of the so-called demons?

“I’ll give you a good counsel,” Maveli said. “If you keep digging up history as if it were a gold mine, all you will find are bones and grudges. Aryans versus Dravidians, this dynasty versus that one. When are you all going to learn to look forward?”

I remained silent. Truth makes us silent.

“I have to move on,” Maveli said. “Let me part ways with you. But remember: if you must dig, at least dig a proper drainage system. That would be history worth remembering.”

 

PS. Tomorrow is Onam, the grandest festival of Kerala. Onam used to be celebrated by all people of Kerala irrespective of religious affiliations though the legend behind is typically Hindu, associated with the annual return of Maveli to visit his erstwhile country. The festival has evolved into a cultural extravaganza celebrated over a long period of time stretching over days, if not weeks. This year, however, some Muslim organisations have started making unpleasant noises against the celebration of the festival by their community. I, personally, love the festival for the colours and joys associated with it. So, wish you a HAPPY ONAM.