Kerala – No land for liquor

It’s a state that sprang up from the sea-bed as a repentance of the killings of Parasuram. It’s said the blood from the dead were enough to fill 5 rivers. When Parasuram handed over the strip of land to Brahmins to rule, he would never had imagined a time, when the liquor that flows in the veins of its population would be surplus to fill the backwaters of a state that sell scenic pictures to the world labelling it – Gods own country.

If you grew up in a Christian household, you would notice that wine and alcohol was not a taboo but a pervasive liquid state that made its presence felt in family gatherings – be it birth, marriage or death and even in the church altar, when the priest sips the wine during the holy mass. Alcohol was part of our healing too - a burping aunt would be offered a few sips of brandy and for a fermented ‘Appam’ dough, there was always a few ounces of fresh toddy.

There was enough for everyone to drink - Arrack, Toddy, Rum, Brandy and imported whisky from Persia from the early migrants who boarded ships to the coast of the Arabia; they came back with trunks filled with rolls of polyester, Brute perfumes, Quality Street chocolates, Rothmans cigarettes and bottles of liquor.

So see, it was not a bad situation we were in then. Somewhere down the years people got bored and found more reasons to booze. More and more factories closed down and more men flew to the Arabian cities, in budget and not so budget carriers that fleeced them for filling up their seats so easily. Bandhs (banned now) and Harthals (upgraded to what a Bandh stood for), offered plentiful holidays but restricted to stay at home. With higher wages for manual jobs, money flowing to NRI bank accounts, a humid and hot weather and a slow paced life in an otherwise ‘nothing else to do’ state, boozing might have been an attractive proposition. We now top the list of boozers in the country and it also supports the state exchequer to the tune of $1.2 billion.

A ban on liquor consumption seems to unsettle queues that are visible every 2 kilometres along the state highway. The serious question is, what will replace liquor to mourn a death, to raise a toast and to kill time in a harthal?