Passion is a peculiar thing. Overwhelmed by passion, one might do things that others might consider unimaginable. And if one is passionate about history, like Abhilash Kumar is, one may devote one’s present towards recreating and preserving the past for the sake of the future.
Everything about the Travancore kingdom—ruled by one of the most illustrious and progressive royal families in the country—had fascinated him from a very young age. He went searching for Travancore-era buildings and found most of them to be in bad shape. Many of them were no longer in Kerala; a good number of them are now in Tamil Nadu. Kanyakumari, an integral part of the kingdom was cut off during the state reorganisation. The state of the historic remnants in Kanyakumari aggrieved Abhilash so much that dedicated his life to preserving and recreating them. He dropped out of the MA History course in Kerala University, sold most of his property and spent nearly 20 years to recreate history in his hometown, Amaravila in the Thiruvananthapuram district, a few kilometers from the Tamil Nadu-Kerala border.
“Many call me a maverick. But when one is passionate about something, nothing else matters,” said Abhilash as he opened a 12ft-high, 400-year-old wooden front door and invited us in. The door led us to a complex from the Travancore era. Spread over an acre was a pathinaru kettu—a traditional Kerala-style mansion with a huge courtyard. Built in 1629, the mansion used to stand near the famous Padmanabhapuram Palace, on the way to Kanyakumari. The mansion—earlier known as Chuttumalika, now rechristened as Charitra Malika (history mansion) by Abhilash—was the residence of a siddha practitioner close to the Travancore royal family.
The mansion had been abandoned for more than 85 years when Abhilash decided to buy it. For him, the mansion was the epitome of the architecture of erstwhile Travancore. “Everything about it—its special red tiles, artefacts, utensils and designs—offered a slice of Travancore life and I wanted to maintain it at all costs,” said Abhilash.
The first step cost him three years; the property was held by a joint family, and he had to convince every stakeholder. Once that was done, he went in search of the families of the court artisans who had built the structure four centuries ago.
“The structure of the mansion was very complicated. Only those who have some exposure to similar designs would be able to dismantle it and reconstruct it,” said Abhilash. He was not able to track down the families, but somehow managed to dismantle the entire mansion and reconstruct it in Amaravila.
Abhilash was about 21 when he started out on his quest, and by the time the relocation was complete, he was in his late 30s. He sacrificed a career and marriage, too. “I knew I was getting into something complicated, and did not want any distractions,” he said about his life choices.
But what he has got in return was Charitra Malika. Everything behind that 12ft-high wooden gate is certain to fascinate history buffs—the cellars, secret chambers, naturally climate-controlled interiors, his collection of 4,800 artefacts, including utensils, grindstones of different sizes and shapes, wooden containers, iron implements and urns made of mixed clay, stone and wood. The soothika griham (labour room) and the subterranean kalarithara (training space) will take your breath away. In one corner is a kedavilaku, an eternal flame.
Though one may initially think that the entire complex comprises of just single-floor structures, there are layers to every structure, linked by tunnels. I stepped into an underground room and followed the passages, only to find that I had reached the other end of the mansion.
Grindstones of various sizes and shapes were on display on a poomukham (verandah). “Each grindstone was used for various purposes. There was one to make medicines for fever, another for headaches and yet another one for internal treatments. Also, there were separate grindstones for [grinding ingredients of] every dish. Such was the knowledge system of our past,’’ he said.
Pointing to the complex atmiya poomukham (main entrance) where the most senior members used to sit, Abhilash said it was constructed without using a single nail. “Unbelievable,” said Sini, a student who had come from Alappuzha to see the Charitra Malika. Her friends nodded in agreement. What they did not know then was that they were all sitting on a ledge under which was a 42ft-deep well that supplies water to the underground kalari. When Abhilash told them, they jumped off their seats, stunned.
The awe on the faces of students while being introduced to different elements of the past is what Abhilash seeks, he explained. “Lifestyles are undergoing drastic changes. It is important to preserve at least a few glimpses of the past for posterity. It will help them to stay rooted,” he said.
In fact, he welcomes only school and college students to Charitra Malika. “I really have no intention of opening this to the public,” he said. “Only those who are really interested about our cultural past need come. I have no time for casual onlookers. Also, I have no money to employ guides and other staff on a daily basis.”
Abhilash recently said no to a reputed Malayalam film director who wanted to shoot a Travancore history-based period film here. ‘’I asked him some basic questions about Travancore history and he had no idea,” said Abhilash about why he rejected the proposal.
But, for how long will he be able to preserve this 23,000sqft structure on his own? “As of now, I am [managing]. I have sold most of my property to maintain this. But if you ask me how long will I be able to do this, I do not know,” he said, running his fingers over a wooden pillar with secret chambers that were used to hide gold coins. Abhilash has also hired traditional practitioners to train youngsters in everything from kalaripayattu to siddha, music and dance.
Is his family supportive of his venture? “As I am a free bird, nobody is there to stop me or support me. Even my parents have only a vague idea of what I am up to. They do not know that I have sold off most of my possessions,” he said. “Nobody interferes as they know I am strange.”
Abhilash, however, has one grouse—that Kerala agreed to cede Kanyakumari, during the reorganisation of states. “Who will agree to give away the most important part of one’s history and culture without even a whimper [of protest]?” he asked frequently during our conversation. Knowing that he is unlikely to get an answer, Abhilash said he cannot understand people’s lackadaisical attitude towards their history and cultural past. “A society which does not preserve and value its past will not survive long,” he said.
Just about then, he got a phone call with the caller inquiring how much he charges for entry. His tone was curt and dissuasive. “If one is truly passionate about something, he or she will go for it despite any amount of dissuasion. Only such people need come here,” he said. And, Abhilash has every right to say that.