My forthcoming book will be called “ROAD TO HEAVEN – A passage through India”.
Would the following ‘blurb’ attract you? Would it make you want to read the book?
“This book follows Adam Yamey’s engaging journey through parts of western, central, and southern India. Since marrying into an extended Indian family in 1994, Adam has visited the country more than 50 times and now sees it as both a second home and a rich cornucopia of remarkable people and places. His narrative moves between India’s past and present, weaving everyday details into the broader fabric of its culture and history. Along the way, his own impressions are set beside those of earlier writers who visited the same places. Unlike many travel books on India, this one reflects the perspective of someone who spends longer than the average tourist in each destination, allowing him to absorb and convey its distinctive atmosphere. It also offers rare views of life in some of India’s exclusive ex-colonial clubs. And, in case you are wondering, The Road to Heaven is a real place. In this illustrated account, Adam describes travelling along it and exploring many other memorable aspects of his journey.”
BEFORE THE YEAR 1729, a part of southern India, now part of the State of Kerala, was a collection of distinct small kingdoms. Often, they fought with each another, and life in that part of the world was disorganised and easy prey to the activities of hostile regimes, such as the Dutch colonists and armies from other parts of India.
In 1729, Marthanda Varma (1706-1758) became Maharaja of the Kingdom of Venadu in what is now the southernmost part of Kerala. A brilliant military strategist, who employed Europeans to update his army, he conquered most of the small states in southern Kerala, and created the Kingdom of Travancore, which existed from 1729 until about one year after India became independent in 1947. Just as Otto von Bismarck united the myriad German states, Marthanda did the same kind of thing in Kerala. Marthanda was not only a successful military man. He was also a successful ruler who brought orderly government to his kingdom. As with all rulers who have suppressed rival states, he had enemies, who plotted against him, but many of these were either banished or killed.
One of the problems that Marthanda solved successfully by both diplomatic and military means were the Dutch, who had settled on the Malabar Coast, and were desperate to purchase pepper. After the Dutch had conspired with the ruler of Cochin, which was never incorporated into Travancore, Marthanda defeated them at the Battle of Colachel in 1741. This was one of the few battles in which an Indian army defeated a European force. Following the battle and others, Marthanda often persuaded some of his enemies’ soldiers to join his army, and they helped to improve his military capabilities.
Marthanda was a canny fellow. Worried about whom would succeed him and also how to maintain the integrity of his kingdom after he died, Marthanda conducted a ceremony at a temple in Trivandrum during which he surrendered Travancore to the god Sree Padmanabhaswamy. This happened in January 1750. From then on, Marthanda ruled Travancore on behalf of the god. As the authors of a brief but excellent biography of Marthanda, “God’s Own Empire”, Raghu and Pushpa Palat, put it:
“Regardless of how one views it, it was undeniably a masterstroke. The nation and realm now belonged to Lord Padmanabhaswamy who was worshipped with the most profound reverence across the entire kingdom. It meant that anyone taking up arms against Marthanda was, in fact, taking up arms against the deity”
The strategy was successful.
Raghu and Pushpa Palat have achieved something remarkable in their short book. Not only have they described Marthanda’s life both beautifully and at times excitingly, but also, they have unravelled the extraordinarily complex history of southern Kerala, making it accessible to the lay reader.
AT PRESENT I am working on the text of my forthcoming travel book, which will be called “Road to Heaven -A passage through India”. Here is a brief excerpt from the chapter about Fort Kochi (Fort Cochin) in Kerala:
“No description of Fort Kochi would be complete without describing a visit to the Kerala State Beverages store, a state government run alcoholic drinks store – the only place in Fort Kochi (apart from some expensive restaurants and hotels), where bottles of spirits can be purchased. Located some distance away from the centre of Fort Kochi in a residential suburb with many trees, this establishment has two floors beneath its rooftop terrace. The ground floor has barred windows, a metal grille, behind which the storekeepers work, surrounded by a crowded collection of piled up crates containing bottles of booze. A crowd of (mostly) men gather around a small aperture in the grille, and buy bottles of beer and small bottles of spirit. This part of the shop looks depressing, as if someone wants to give the message that alcohol is evil, and you need to be desperately in need of it to approach the place. We were directed to the upper floor, which was a complete contrast to what was below it. Bottles of alcohol, gins, brandies, liqueurs, and whiskys, both Indian and imported, were nicely displayed, as in any well-organised supermarket. Customers select what they want, and pay at a cash desk. The drinks that were on sale on this floor were different from, and much more expensive than what was available from behind the barred windows on the ground floor. Buying one’s own booze is far cheaper than ordering it in a bar or restaurant in Kerala.“
HERE IS ANOTHER EXTRACT from the draft of my forthcoming book, “Road To Heaven. A Passage through India”. about recent travels in west and south India. This sample describes a type of textile that is made in Kachchh (Kutch) in the west of India. This piece relates to the town of Mandvi.
“One type of fabric, for which Kachchh is noted is bandhani. It is a method of tie-dyeing that is frequently used by textile workers in Kachchh. Knots are tied in the piece of material that is to be dyed, and then the knotted fabric is dipped into a vat of dye. The dye colours all the material except the parts enclosed within the knots. Let me explain the procedure. Starting with the ‘raw’ cloth that is usually whitish in colour, craftworkers gather small amounts of the material using their fingertips, and tie these small bundles with thread. The bundles are tied according to a predetermined pattern drawn on the cloth. The tied cloth is then dipped into a dye. When the dyeing is completed and dried, a new set of knots is tied on the already knotted cloth. The cloth is then dipped into a different coloured dye. A new set of knots is sometimes then tied according to the kind of design that has been planned, and the cloth is dipped into yet another colour dye. This process of tying and dyeing can be repeated several times. After the several cycles of tying and dying are completed, the cloth is stretched, the knots undo noisily (a crackling sound can be heard as the threads break), and a textile with a fascinatingly complex and beautiful pattern is revealed. The bandhani process is complicated and very demanding. Consequently, the these fabrics are quite highly priced and highly prized.
On our visits to Mandvi, including during our most recent one, we have visited an old shop where bandhani fabrics are made and sold. Its current owner, Mr Ashraf Katri, always remembers us when we stop at his shop. He told us that the business has been in existence for at least 150 years. That means the present generation of the family working in the establishment is the fourth or fifth since it first opened. On a couple of occasions, Mr Katri has shown us some bandhani cloth that was made over 100 years ago. The patterning on this old cloth is far more intricate and finely detailed than any bandhani produced today. Mr Katri explained that it must have been made by someone with very tiny fingers, possibly a young child, because only someone with such small digits would have been able to tie the minute knots needed to create such an exquisitely detailed pattern.”
BORN IN MYSORE (Mysuru) in 1969, the Indian artist NS Harsha lives and works in that city. He studied art first at Mysore’s Chamarajendra Academy of Visual Arts, and then at Maharaja Sayajirao University in Baroda (Vadodara). Until 31 July 2026, there is a wonderful exhibition of his large paintings at the Victoria Miro Gallery in London.
Almost all of Harsha’s beautifully executed paintings in the show contain depictions of lighted oil lamps (diyas), often many in a single work. In some paintings, the oil lamps are arranged to form regular patterns. In others, they are interspersed with images of people, animals, food, and items used in daily life. The numerous people who appear in these works are frequently workers in their overalls and hard hats (helmets), animals, and people planting crops. From a visual point of view, the paintings are very pleasing even if one has no idea what, if any, message the artist is attempting to convey. Although they depict contemporary subjects and far from being miniature, they hark back to the historical traditions of Indian Miniature paintings.
In a web page produced by the Chemould (Prescott Road) Gallery in Bombay, I read that:
“Like a chronicler, often drawing from popular stories and local perceptions of international news events, Harsha depicts in his canvasses small town/city Indian life in our increasingly globalized times. His intricately detailed canvasses juxtapose seemingly disassociated images of scenes of small town and village India with those of more recognizably international ones. Harsha’s multi-layered narratives strongly suggest that the global is always already located within the local imagination.”
Regarding the lamps in the paintings, the Victoria Miro website explained:
“The works, which elaborate on the artist’s celebrated, ongoing ‘lamp grid’ series, feature diyas – lamps traditionally made from clay that are lit during rituals, prayers, ceremonies, celebrations and during power cuts – with flames and trails of smoke together creating patterns that guide the eye around each canvas … In Harsha’s work they represent energy, forces perhaps unseen.”
This interesting interpretation is useful enough, but the paintings alone speak for themselves, and throw an intriguing light on contemporary life in India.
I enjoyed viewing this exhibition, and becoming aware of a fascinating artist, whom I had not come across before.
Adam Yamey derives great enjoyment from his many travels in India. His forthcoming book (now being edited), “ROAD TO HEAVEN: A passage through India” will transport you on a journey that includes his recent adventures in Karnataka, Maharashtra, Rajasthan, Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh, Kerala, and Tamil Nadu.
On a highway in Tamil Nadu
Adam will not only describe what he saw and experienced on his tour in late 2025 and early 2026, but he also includes accounts and observations of the places he visited made by earlier visitors (for example, the Emperor Jahangir and the author EM Forster). In addition, he will provide the reader with much information about the formerly British colonial (now ‘elite’) clubs of India, institutions which are barely mentioned in most travel books about the country.
As for ‘The Road To Heaven’ mentioned in the title, you can discover much about it and a host of other attractions and places of interest by reading Adam’s book, which will illustrated with his photographs and some maps. Adam is hoping that the book will be published within a few weeks.
AT PRESENT I am editing my latest book about India. It will be called “ROAD TO HEAVEN -A Passage through India ” The book, a travelogue, will include something about the ‘elite’ clubs of India.
Here is a short excerpt from a chapter that will describe the Bangalore Club, where we stay often.:
“My wife and I find that we are respected by the staff, many of whom have known us for many years. Some of the older staff, who have long since retired remembered Lopa from when she was a child in the 1960s. One such old retainer, whom I never met was Mr Santabarbara. One afternoon in the 1970s, Lopa and her family were entertaining Jonathan Grey, a visitor from England, at the Club. Jonathan’s father, Mr Peter Grey, had been a colleague of my father-in-law in India, and had been a corporate member of the Club in the early 1950s. When Santabarbara saw Jonathan, he looked at him, and with tears in his eyes, slowly said:
“Grey Sahib’s son.”
He had never met Jonathan, and had not seen his father for at least 20 years. We visit the Club regularly, but get the similarly warm recognition from the older members of staff. Our daughter who has been going to the Club since she was about 8 months old is still known as ‘baby’ by the long-established members of the Club’s staff. As far as the Club’s staff are concerned, whether they be humble gardeners of senior stewards, decency pays dividends, and costs nothing.”
KEDLESTONE HALL WAS built on the 1760s for Nathaniel Curzon. It was designed by the Scottish architect Robert Adam. It contains many finely decorated rooms designed by Adam.
The edifice was inherited by Nathaniel’s descendant George Nathaniel Curzon, who was Viceroy of India between 1899 and 1905. I was hoping to see items related to Curzon’s time in India, but saw very few during my visit to Kedlestone Hall.
The absence of Indian ‘souvenirs’ is easily compensated by the splendour of the magnificent rooms designed in styles influenced by Ancient Rome and the Italian architect Palladio. Adam not only designed the rooms, but also many of the furnishings including, for example, door knobs and fireplaces.
I am glad I visited Kedlestone Hall but was disappointed by the paucity of memorabilia from Curzon’s time in India.
SOMEONE SENT ME a message on Facebook, recommending me to read “Arctic Summer”, a novel by the South African author Damon Galgut (born 1963). It was a great recommendation, and I am grateful for it. The story is about the author EM Forster (1879-1970), whose books include “A Passage to India”.
Galgut’s superbly written, well-researched, fascinating novel is a fictional biography of Forster during the period between, and including, his first two visits to India. It also mentioned Forster’s third later visit. The book is not only a biography of Forster, but also a fictional biography of the writing of “A Passage To India”: the biography of a novel. The book also explores Forster’s yearning for the physical love of men, and the frustrations he faced, many of them of his own making. And Galgut, in writing this book, also gives an insight into the difficulties that authors can face when writing fiction.
Galgut’s book reads as well as does his protagonist’s Indian novel. I read “Arctic Summer” after reading “A Passage to India”. Having read the books in this order made a lot of sense. However, if you pick up Galgut’s book first, it will most likely make you want to read “A Passage …”.
I enjoyed Galgut’s novel so much that I am keen to read some more of his work.
HERE IS A BOOK that I bought some years ago when visiting the city of Panjim in Goa, the formerly Portuguese colony, now a state of India. Written by Luis SR Vas, it is a biography of Abbé Faria, who was born in Portuguese Goa in 1756, and died in Paris (France) in 1819. There is a statue commemorating him in the centre of Panjim. A picture of this monument adorns the front cover of the book, and depicts Faria hypnotising a woman. I have seen the sculpture, and I photographed it 2018.
Faria spent most of his life away from the Indian subcontinent, in Italy, Portugal and France. Born Jose Custodio de Faria, he became a priest, and was, for a time, highly regarded in ecclesiastical and royal circles. Living in turbulent times, life did not go smoothly for him. For example in 1797, he was arrested in Marseilles, and imprisoned in the now famous Chateau d’If, Luis Vas wrote that it was Faria, who was in the mind of the author Alexandre Dumas when he included a character named Faria in his novel “The Count of Monte Cristo” (first published in 1844).
The Abbé’s chief claim to fame is that he was a pioneer of what we now call hypnosis, but he called ‘lucid sleep’. He spent many years perfecting this now well-recognised method of modifying behaviour and its use in the armoury of medical science. However, during his life, although admired by many, he was disdained and criticised by others. He discovered that subjects could only be hypnotised if they were willing to be susceptible. This was in contrast to his rival, Anton Mesmer, who believed that states of hypnosis were achieved by altering the subject’s magnetic field: animal magnetism. Faria was one of the first to question Mesmer’s theory. Faria died a poor man, but it was only many decades later that reputable scientists realised that what he had done was sound, rather than quackery.
The book by Vas is not only biographical, but also full of the history of the times through which Faria lived, and of the various countries where he worked and resided. The book ends with a brief summary of the course of the history of hypnosis after Faria’s death. Probably difficult to obtain outside of Panjim, where it was published, the book provided a fascinating insight into a subject, hypnosis, about which I have rarely considered in the past.
yamey 