In the mid-1860s, Valiyakunju Shankaran Channar received an unexpected invitation from his close ally and confidant, Velu Panicker, a prominent merchant. Panicker had planned a hunting expedition to Africa, a venture that was both a statement of prestige and an opportunity to forge deeper alliances. “Channar,” Panicker had written in his elaborate script, “this will be an adventure worthy of our names. The savannah calls.”
Channar was intrigued. At 50 years old, he had spent much of his life overseeing the sprawling Alummoottil estates and its intricacies. Yet, the chance to experience the wilds of Africa, accompanied by Panicker’s expertise, promised not only an escape but a means to strengthen their bond.
The preparations were meticulous. Channar insisted on bringing a small retinue from Alummoottil—his trusted steward Narayanan, who had a knack for logistics, and a young assistant, Appu, eager to see the world beyond Kerala. The group set sail from Cochin, the ship laden with supplies: fine silks for trade, spices, and enough provisions to last months.
After weeks at sea, they arrived on the East African coast, greeted by a cacophony of unfamiliar sights and sounds. Panicker, already at ease with the local Swahili traders, guided Channar through the bustling markets of Zanzibar. The two men discussed everything from the price of ivory to the cultural nuances of the land.
“Channar,” Panicker remarked one evening, as they sat around a campfire under a vast starlit sky, “hunting here is not just about game. It’s about understanding the land, its people, and how trade flows through these veins.”
The next day, the group ventured deep into the savannah. Channar, dressed in a simple white dhoti and a turban, carried a musket gifted by Panicker. His heart raced as he spotted his first quarry, a graceful gazelle grazing near a waterhole. With Panicker’s guidance, he steadied his aim and fired. The shot echoed, and the gazelle fell. Channar was not only exhilarated but reflective. “Even in conquest, there is responsibility,” he mused.
The highlight of their expedition came weeks later, when the group encountered a herd of elephants. Panicker, who had built a network of local guides, negotiated access to a remote hunting ground. The elephants, majestic and imposing, were a sight to behold. Channar chose not to shoot. “Their majesty is their own,” he said, earning the respect of the local guides.
Beyond the hunt, Channar and Panicker discussed matters of trade, governance, and strategy. Panicker shared his insights into managing people and resources, lessons he had learned through years of mercantile success. Channar, in turn, shared his experiences of managing large estates and resolving disputes.
When Channar returned to Alummoottil, he was a changed man. The African safari had taught him lessons in patience, strategy, and respect for nature and people. The bond he forged with Panicker during those days would last a lifetime, shaping decisions that would benefit the Alummoottil family for decades.
