A lover's path near Chambakkara bridge, where Kochi slows down

New Indian Express

a day ago

In the mornings, you'll spot a few joggers, old men with newspapers folded under their arms, and the occasional cyclist who seems to be in no real hurry. Boats pass too. Quiet, unbothered, and sometimes, with cargo.
Later in the day, college students stop to sit sipping juice, food delivery riders rest their backs and scroll through their phones, and older women walk together in small, steady steps, discussing daily life.
'It's our break spot,' says a Swiggy partner, helmet off, legs stretched out. 'No one honks here. That's enough.'
There's an open gym halfway down. No building, no signboard, just metal bars and equipment. On most mornings, someone's using it. Often, no more than one or two people. But no one seems in a rush.
'It's not a big thing,' says Santhosh, a retired schoolteacher who comes daily. 'But in a city like this, even 15 minutes of peace feels like a blessing.'
The trees overhead aren't spectacular, but they shade in the right places. If you're walking without your phone, you'll hear birds. And sometimes, nothing at all.
Every stretch like this has a familiar face. Here, it's Babu, a fisherman in his sixties who casts a line into the canal most days and sells lottery tickets on the side. One foot rests on the edge of the path, the other on memory.
'Fishing is just for the peace,' he says, not particularly trying to sell anything. 'Some days I catch fish. Some days I don't. But the water listens.'