Every household closer to the canals in Kuttanad own a private step to the waterbody. There was a time this seemed a luxury to the city dweller in me. Weeds that wade the canals have never been a botheration to my eyes until a few years ago. The realization that the water below the green carpet can’t move or breathe beyond a point turned me worried as I spent more time living there. It carry the fertilizers and pesticides from the farm land, the sewage from the shrines above the pampa river and the waste dumped from the God’s own land’s tourist boats. Yet the life line flows through the land and its people.