To enter Chellan Chettan’s tea shop without hitting your head, you must first bow down, as though you’re shedding your metropolitan ego, exchanging it for the appreciation of the more rural, the more natural.
While returning to Kochi after enjoying the vibrant Coimbatore city life on a fine October morning, it was my father’s suggestion to stop at Kollengode en route. Kollengode captivates you quite easily—the once-harvested fields are now ticketed tourist attractions, offering countless camera angles for “the ‘Gram”. The journey to the Seetharkund waterfalls may be a bit treacherous, but the fresh, soothing water down there is clearly worth it. Once back up that trek, the pieces of the Western Ghats tower over you, casting a cool shadow and saving your skin from the intense Palakkadan sun. However, it is unfortunate to note that in spite of the increasing tourist flow, some of the facilities—especially the parking and washroom ones—leave a lot to be desired. After all, Kollengode is still an unexplored gem.
Despite all the nature, the foodie in me was most enticed by Chellan Chettan’s tea shop, or Chellan Chettante Chayakkada, for authenticity. Surprisingly enough, the Chayakkada was easily traceable on Google Maps, with almost 500 reviewers giving it an immaculate 4.5 stars on aggregate. And rightly so, our car huffed and puffed through increasingly deteriorating roads towards this semi-subterranean eatery.
Once inside, the Chayakkada truly takes you back in time. The degrading walls are hidden behind calendars from the 2010s, with the closest one to the present day being 2019. All of the observable cooking is done over a woodfire in an adjacent room, its smell diffusing into the thin mist, spreading all over the dining area that has two benches, which won’t fit any more than six or seven people at once. After patiently waiting your turn, you get to speak to the man himself—the young, seventy-something Chellan Chettan. Sixty years on from starting the establishment, Chellan Chettan is nothing short of a small-time celebrity. YouTube videos with positive reviews and countless blogs on the internet have made people queue up not only to have a taste of his idlis but also to get a snap with the man behind the magic.
After all such requests are fulfilled, Chellan Chettan nonchalantly goes back to taking orders for the newly sat customers, whether it be idli, chai, or freshly made vadas. We followed suit, too—immediately receiving three squarely cut, green banana leaves to serve as plates. A batch of soft, white idlis followed, accompanied by two kinds of chutneys, with varying levels of redness. The idli set disappeared off our leaves soon enough, but the hunger really didn’t. Chellan Chettan’s timely question, “Vada Veno? (Do you need vadas?),” was music to our ears. The vadas barely touched the banana leaves, as they were eager to enter our mouths; All the while, Chellan Chettan’s teapot was boiling continually, serving tea to the customers inside and the ones waiting for their turn outside.
Strangely, all this fame doesn’t seem to penetrate Chellan Chettan at all—or his wife, children, and other family members, who help him run the small establishment. If desired, with all the fame and the pending offers, he could easily transform the humble Chayakkada into a proper cafe, catering to all the needs of the average Kollengode traveller. Yet, he won’t do it—it’s a loss of soul, of identity. He doesn’t extend an explanation to the tourists who ask the same, only returning a smile as sweet as his tea; perhaps, it is a smile that he offers everyone who comes and re-emerges out of his Chayakkada, but it’s one that stays with you months, even years after you’ve visited his shop.
The writer is a second-year B. Tech computer science student at TKM College of Engineering, Kollam.