Mithranikethan Heritage Walk

I found myself once again at Mithranikethan in Vagamon, this time to join a heritage walk organized by "Dharini," a heritage-conservation group led by architects. My first visit to Mithranikethan had been on May 22, 2016, during a journey in search of the source of the Meenachil river. Since then I had visited twice more — once in connection with river-conservation work, and once for an art camp. I had also spent a night here once, during a programme with experts from the Kerala Archaeology Department, reading ancient inscriptions. This time, I came with my family. Every time I return, it feels as though Mithranikethan has kept something new in store for me to discover! It isn't that anything new happens there. It's simply that whatever escapes notice on one visit reveals itself on the next. Laurie Baker created here a world of architectural wonder that never quite exhausts itself — a rare artistic philosophy of "complexity within simplicity." In every corner, it feels as though Laurie Baker's own creative genius has quietly blossomed.

It's only when one recognizes that Mithranikethan, beyond its architectural distinctiveness, was also the field of work of a handful of remarkable individuals who devoted their lives to caring for the sick, that the heart fills with gratitude for the good fortune of standing on that sacred ground.

Laurie Baker, the British architect who left his own unmistakable stamp on the field, and his Malayali wife Dr. Elizabeth Baker, arrived at Vagamon and settled there in 1963. With the arrival, in 1968, of two German women who had dedicated their lives to healthcare — Dr. Hildegard Zeena and nurse Alina Kattaniyil — the charitable hospital known as Mithranikethan came to life. Besides Laurie Baker's own residence, he himself designed and built the hospital, the residential quarters for doctors and nurses, and the surrounding buildings — structures that blend seamlessly with the natural landscape of Vagamon. Walls built of exposed granite, stone-paved pathways, a design that fuses a Western aesthetic sensibility with local building methods — a restrained technique that serves basic needs without ever tipping into excess.

In the undeveloped Vagamon of the 1970s, Mithranikethan Hospital kept its doors open around the clock for the poor tea-estate workers and the native Urali tribal community of the surrounding areas. Braving the bitter cold and icy winds, the doctors and nurses continued their service to the people — treating illness, saving the lives of the poor, and welcoming new lives into the world.

Mithranikethan Hospital remained operational until 2016. As transport connectivity improved and government health centres and hospitals began appearing in nearby areas, the number of patients coming to Mithranikethan declined. The lack of modern facilities also contributed to the eventual end of clinical treatment there. Since then, the facility has been put to use for training programmes, camps, and activities in areas such as the environment, agriculture, women's and youth empowerment, and elderly welfare — the German-language course currently running there is part of this. A committee is now active for its conservation, with restoration work being carried out under the supervision of architect Biju Kost Ford. The hospital's present coordinator is a former nurse fondly known as Kunjechi — Annamma Mani — who, though originally from Ponpally in Kottayam, has come to regard Mithranikethan as her own home and continues to live there. The institution is run by a seven-member committee and society, with Eliyamma Dennis as secretary and Sudha Manoj as treasurer.

The heritage walk was led by Jisny George, Dharini's chief organizer. On the first day, the group had visited Kurishumala Ashram and the dairy farm; we ourselves arrived that evening. The next morning began with a walk up to near the Koopu Waterfalls — about three kilometres one way — noticing, along the route, the changes taking shape on either side. Numerous resorts are rising up, destroying Vagamon's natural beauty.

The sight of the Koopu Waterfalls was heartbreaking. On earlier trips, I used to bathe under this small waterfall — this time too, I had brought a towel meaning to do the same. But one side of the waterfall had been cut through to make way for a new path leading up into the forest — a route for some new resort under construction. Perhaps this waterfall is simply being used now to lure tourists — and in the process, its natural beauty has been destroyed. The rocks that were once naturally arranged within the falls have been removed. All the rock-pools that used to hold water deep enough to bathe in have been broken apart. A pitiful sight of environmental destruction.

The Koopu waterfall marks the very start of the Poonjar river, one of the two tributaries at the Meenachil's source. The spring water seeping down the grasslands on the southern slope of Thangalpara at Kolahalamedu flows west and arrives here to form this waterfall. The next waterfall comes further down, where the stream flows beneath a causeway on the Vazhikkadavu–Valyentha road and reaches Kottathavalam. It's only once it reaches Adivaram and joins other streams that the Poonjar branch takes the shape of an actual river. Those who destroyed the Koopu waterfall likely never realized that they were committing violence at the very birthplace of a great river. It was with a heavy heart that we walked on from there. Koopu marks the boundary between Thekkoy and Koottickal panchayats. The road to Valyentha is being laid with concrete as it proceeds; the wider road from Thangalpara joins it here. The road ahead is still only metalled. Large resorts are being built at a furious pace across Vagamon, including on the hilltops. Luxury structures are coming up on hillsides that have, with the connivance of revenue authorities, been encroached upon by various parties. This is environmental destruction taking place right in front of the very people who come to Vagamon to enjoy its natural beauty — and it is proceeding unchecked. It is the water seeping down from each of these Vagamon hills that gives birth to the Meenachil river. Tomorrow, the "holy water" at the Meenachil's source may well be nothing but the sewage flowing from hundreds of septic tanks belonging to the resorts on these hill ranges, seeping into the very springs. Neither our panchayats nor the Revenue or Tourism departments show any sign of noticing this grave betrayal being committed against humanity. No amount of environmental awareness can correct the government departments' notion of what "development" means. Every trip to Vagamon leaves the heart filled only with anxiety.

Back at Mithranikethan, after breakfast, we walked to see the spring-conservation system on the hillside, also part of the Mithranikethan property. Far below the slope, a small reservoir and check-dam are visible. Beside it now stands a long new building, utterly out of keeping with the landscape, looking rather like a factory — an ominous, unwelcome addition. This single "ramshackle cattle-shed" has ruined the visual grandeur that Mithranikethan and all of Laurie Baker's surrounding structures once lent to that landscape. It came as a complete surprise to learn that this was built for a Capuchin monastic community. One would never expect such an act from Capuchin friars — men like Fr. Bobby Jose Kattikkad, known for their environmental consciousness. Nearby stands the house Laurie Baker built for Mary Roy, visible with a few minor alterations.

Climbing further up, we saw a spring on a flat rock face, its water continuously flowing, enclosed with granite walling and channelled through a pipe into a collection tank. An oval-shaped protective wall has also been built around the spring itself. Not just in the buildings but throughout the surrounding grounds, one finds everywhere the fine results of Laurie Baker's combined observation, thought, and genius. Jisny George, the young architect and organizer, spoke at length about the distinctive features of Baker's constructions.

Next came the visit to the hospital itself. Through Kunjechi's words — she who had served as a nurse here since Mithranikethan's very beginning — the hospital's past unfolded before us, petal by petal. Kunjechi, herself a relative of Elizabeth Baker, traced her calling to serve the sick back to a childhood fascination with reading the life story of Florence Nightingale. She recounted — everyone listening, deeply moved — memories ranging from providing emergency care to accident victims and nursing them back to health, to accompanying patients who needed advanced treatment all the way to the medical college and staying with them there; from difficult deliveries, to reviving a person thought already dead by rekindling their last remaining pulse, to treating tetanus patients kept isolated in darkened rooms. With no other help available, it was the doctors and nurses alone who handled every aspect of patient care.

This hospital building itself is a marvel Laurie Baker designed in the shape of a cross. Measured against the standards of modern hospitals today, it stands now as little more than a heritage monument. Children now stay here to learn German. The classes are taught by Anniamma Teacher, a native of Ernakulam — a language scholar in her eighties who earned her PhD in German in Germany itself.

Kunjechi led us from room to room, explaining the hospital's various facilities as she went — the operation table, the X-ray machine, microscopes, other medical instruments, the scale once used to weigh newborns, an old refrigerator, hurricane lamps, a trunk box — all preserved, museum-like, as reminders of the hospital facilities of an earlier era. The office room holds various medical texts and old photographs. Kunjechi kept talking as we walked. Even amid the bustle of preparing lunch for the students in the hospital kitchen, the water tank built up on granite behind the areca-nut store bore the unmistakable stamp of Laurie Baker's craft. We stepped out through the kitchen courtyard.

The delicious meal served to the group had been prepared by Kunjechi together with Thankamma Chechi, another former nurse who had served here.

Even after lunch, Mithranikethan seemed to come alive again and again through Kunjechi's recollections. She shared, with visible emotion, memories of walking alongside the two German women, Dr. Zeena and Alina, whose lives were an unbroken act of self-sacrifice — two bodies, one heart, as she put it. After Dr. Zeena passed away in 1997, Sister Alina fell into a long period of grief. Yet even after illness later took hold of her, she remained as devoted to her work as ever. Sister Alina eventually passed away in 2007, as her illness worsened. Both now rest side by side beneath a circular platform built at the foot of a tree in the Mithranikethan courtyard, where memorial stones bearing their names and a carved cross stand in tribute. Once Kunjechi finished sharing her memories, Jisny brought the two days of companionship and walking to a close, thanking everyone present.