Tag: postaday

Right Place, Right Time

Have I ever mentioned June’s a great month? Because that’s when the weather makes you crave hot chocolate and a warm book.

But July isn’t that far away, and that’s a great month too. More so if you’re holidaying in a wooden cottage in a place like Thekkady.

I just can’t get the picture out of my mind: A small wooden hut, surrounded by trees, shrubs, and flowers I’ll never remember the names of.

Little insects scurrying about, alarming people heading for a warm dinner at the restaurant, waking up to a chilly sunrise, with my legs perched on top of the railing, blowing the steam from my cup of tea, and smiling at dew on the leaves from the previous night’s rain.

sterling resorts thekkady

That’s how our holiday was in Sterling resorts. It’s a beautiful place to spend time alone — or with close friends or family. Thekkady itself brings you closer to nature. And a comfortable resort only brings you closer to your family.

But it’s not all fancy goodness, love, and affection.

It’s annoying to wake up to the morning chore of scooping up and letting out, a worm or two that had found solace inside your cottage.

It’s annoying when you’re generous enough to make tea for everyone and someone ends up complaining about too much milk or too less sugar.

It’s annoying when you want to gorge on the local favourite puttu (steamed rice flour meal)  with kadala (chic peas gravy) but you don’t get the gravy when you have puttu, and no puttu when you have gravy.

But when you step out of the cottage and look up at the pale-grey sky, every annoying thing would disappear. The sky would seem to have a hard time deciding whether to clear its way for the sun to shine or to hold its stance. It’s such bliss to be in such a place at such a time that nothing else would matter.

One Morning at the Beach

I’ve said it way too many times already: I can’t resist the sunrise.

So much so that I left my hotel room at 6 am to watch the sun rise into the sky.

This happened in Pondicherry, the go-to city for cheap alcohol. The city’s got that vibe — like Vegas. You go there  just to get wasted.

I went looking for the high too.

Except, my definition of “high,” is different. My high is in nature, and the most I have to do to get it is either wake up early or stay up all night.

So I strolled down Beach Road. The government of Pondicherry bans all motor vehicles into the road from 5 pm to 7 am. It was the safest place for an over-enthusiastic nature lover and amateur photographer.

Sunrise at the Pondicherry beach

I stepped on to the road, and a chilly, salty breeze brushed my hair on to my face. I started walking and went right past the Gandhi statue. Because  a few more yards away was the only thing I cared for: The Le Cafe.

It’s the most beautiful and well-maintained 24-hour, governmnet-run cafe. The staff welcomed me with warm smiles, and smiled wider when I told them I was just looking for photos. They saved the bitterness for the coffee. (We went for the coffee afterward.)

le cafe

When I left the cafe, the sun had risen, but without heart. It was still half into the clouds when I pointed my camera at it, and it remained so for about an hour. I did too. And all the while, my hair danced in tune to the waves, and sea spray clouded my glasses.

Unlike the city I’m used to, there  were too many people out basking in the sunrise. They were tourists staying in hotels nearby. And they went about their routine of morning yoga, slow walking, some of them jogging, and even a few kids on a sprint.

Despite the crowd, it didn’t feel crowded at all. In fact, it didn’t even seem like an Indian city to me. Everything was so alien, so neat, and so peaceful. No one bothered about what the others were up to. No one gawked at each other, making judgements. For once, everyone minded their business.

It was one of my most productive mornings.

Wonder

When I read this week’s photo prompt, I was ecstatic. Because I look up so much that I often forget to look where I’m going. Thekkady was no different.

The Periyar Tiger Reserve was, in fact, a forest. I gazed down, around, up, and all over in wonder, with my mouth wide open. And like all forests, there were more trees than I could capture.

I tried, though.

look up

The Walk

What’s it like to walk on a pathway flanked by trees of varying stages of growth? It’s like walking down the aisle, just not as binding in the end.

periyar forest.jpg

That’s how it was when we walked down the Periyar Tiger Reserve. It’s a part of Thekkady’s 1388 sq.ft of forest cover which has about 900 sq.ft of wildlife.

But the reserve has only about 40 surviving tigers. Pity, huh?

There’s also the Periyar lake inside the forest. It’s one of the largest tourist attractions in Thekkady with full boating schedules at all times.

We took the untrodden path; we skipped the boats and drove through the forest. We weren’t allowed to stop for sightseeing or photographing anywhere on the way. And beyond a certain point, vehicles aren’t allowed, and we walked the rest of the way to the lake.

It was about 300 metres to the lake, and it was the best walk I had ever had. It had rained the previous day, and most plants retained moisture. So the air wasn’t too dry, but it wasn’t too wet either. A chilly breeze rustled through the trees, and the sun made a valiant attempt to peek through dense cover. It was the perfect scene for a perfect walk.

Not to mention the large jackfruits hanging from looming heights, and much smaller fruits strewn on the path, some fresh and some decaying. I could see the real meaning of beauty beyond ugliness.

We walked on, and I stopped here and there to peer at moss or leer at odd-shaped branches weighing ten times more than I.

periyar forest.jpg

Looking at it all, I understood how wrong it is to restrain trees to a single colour. Every stage of a tree is a different green, and when all of those shades hurl at you, all at once, you know quiz books got it wrong saying humans comprehend limited colours.

I felt puny, staring at the bigness of everything around me. I was immaterial in a world of beauty and natural calm. And the best part of this walk: There were no other tourists in the vicinity.

We reached the lake. I hadn’t even dreamt of such a sight anywhere in India. I hadn’t known that Kerala hid so much beauty. I have gawked at scenes like that in Hollywood movies. Even local film directors fly all the way to Europe and Greenland and Iceland for scenes like this. If they’d only walk into our very own backwaters, instead.

periyar lake

There was an information centre near the lake, and we went inside for a vantage lake view. We stood there for a while, looking at boats hitting docks, trees grazing the skies while blue waters lapped their roots.

I closed my eyes to capture the image in my head. And out of nowhere, something as hard as rocks fell on the asbestos roof. Along with fresh air came a whiff of ripe jackfruit. The next moment, monkeys came running about us, racing for the scattered fruits.

And I realised monkeys are better companions than people.