CALICUT CHRONICLES

Legends and lore simmer in Kozhikode—where every plate, prayer, and street corner serves an unforgettable story

- BY Ishani Nandi

T ALL BEGINS, as it often does in Kerala, with people at a table, some conversation and food.

At Hotel Jineesh, a small, barebones eatery in Chaliyam, a small steel plate filled to the brim is placed on a rough-hewn, wooden table. Three men, already seated, see mid-chat that there's no room elsewhere, and quickly wave me over to settle next to them.

I slide my plastic stool seat a few inches forward to better inhale the heady aroma of the Malabar classic in front of me: kallumakkaya-freshly harvested mussels-simmering in a mix of coconut slivers and fragrant spices, partnered by a thick slice of pathri, a golden-fried, wholesome rice-flour roundel. As I wrap a chewy piece around a morsel of mussels, I see a fresh batch of batter-fried banana being carried out of the kitchen by a sari-clad, middle-aged woman, whose face brightens into a warm smile as hungry locals trickle in, eager to start the day right.

"Mussels go by different names in different districts. In another area it could be called something completely different," explains Rajeesh Raghavan, a travel professional and local-history expert, who is guiding me through the ancient city of Kodhikode. "In some places, the word for it means something profane!" he says. With that comes the first of many revelations that sets the tone for my journey: Here, everything is deeply local and community is everything. Names could change across neighbourhoods, recipes may shift from one kitchen to the next, but the spirit remains rooted.

In the Land of Legends