Trip to Coorg - Part 3

We experienced the hospitality of Coorg in a good and also a scary way. I loved the verdant hills and the swelling greenery by the roadside. The scary experience was walking in the mist, going into the unknown, being all alone and isolated from the crowd. We had two such experiences, one at Mandalpatti viewpoint and one more at Nisargadhama. We started early in the morning to Mandalpatti. The sun was still sleeping and the mist surrounded us. As we walked to the viewpoint we couldn't see anything a few feet beyond us. We trekked for about 1 km and then we headed back, because the mist was not going anywhere. It would just be a futile trek up to the viewpoint. 

At Nisargadhama, we walked on the island in the wrong direction for about 2 kms. We met a few people along the way, who told us not to walk beyond. Did we listen, NO! We could hear River Kaveri gurgling in a short distance and we wanted to go to it. We did not realize that just the two of us were walking farther and farther into the forest area. We were walking along the dirt beaten path, lined with dead old bamboo trees and snake nests. We heard voices of people joking and laughing, coming from a distance. After some time, I got scared of the possible wild life (snakes) that could surround us and my hubby became apprehensive of the mysterious faceless voices. We decided to tread back the same path to the entrance, where at least we could see some people. Well, this is the irony of life, I hate to be among the crowds, but I also hate to be in isolation. I wouldn't survive even a few seconds if I went to Mars. 

The other thing that I loved in Coorg was the Golden Temple, which is located close to Kushal Nagar. It is a Tibetan settlement, which is the second largest outside Tibet. We saw a lot of tonsured monks roaming around in maroon robes.  The architecture of the temple was different from the Hindu temples. In the main hall of there were statues of three eminent personalities, Budha Shakyamuni, Budha Amityas and Guru Padmasambhava. The statues were gold plated and they decorated with pretty flowers. The Tibetan Monastery was the last place we visited in Coorg. After that we retired to our resort in Polibetta, in the midst of the mountains, in between the coffee plantation, away from all the humanity. Needless to say I was bored as soon I got into the resort and welcomed the return journey to Bangalore the next day. 

The end.

                                                    On way to the Mandalpatti viewpoint

                                                                   
                                                                                 At Abbi Falls

                                            
                                       Me walking into the reserve at Nisarga Dhama

                                                                     The Golden Temple

                                                   Cute Tibetan monks posing for a photo

View from the resort, Porcupine castle at Polibetta 

                                          The resort was surrounded by a coffee plantation

View from the resort 

The King Tortoise riding on it's subordinates 

Trip to Coorg - Part 2

After my visits to Munnar, Goa and Coorg, I have realized that India is a beautiful country. It has a raw and undisciplined beauty, which is different from the European countries, like Switzerland and Austria. I have a personal relationship with this beauty. Every breath of fresh air I take, I feel that I am entitled to it, as though it were my birth right. The air doesn’t seem foreign in the least. I can come back any time to enjoy it without worrying about the visa or the expense. That is the magic of India for me. You have to learn to appreciate it. Like the superman who was willing to mute his senses to sustain on Earth, we have to tune out the crowds and the garbage around the scenic locations to appreciate the beauty of our country. I feel guilty as I write this. It is each of our responsibility not to pollute these beautiful surroundings with trash, like chips, biscuit packets and water bottles. Can’t people wait just a bit longer to reach home and throw it into the trash can? Our country is definitely not your trash can, it deserves a lot more respect.

After lunch at the Raintree Restaurant, we started to Talakaveri. It is the birth place of River Kaveri. It is located by the Brahmagiri hill. It was 42 km from our place. The drive along the hills and valleys was very scenic. The hills were covered with a blanket of untameable greenery. The coffee plantations along the roads extended their branches to welcome us in their land. All through the trip, I was amazed by the jackfruit trees. How could that big, scaly, fruit with the pointed skin hang on the tree by such a thin stem ? What if that stem gave away and the fruit fell down with a big thud, injuring an innocent bystander?

The air was so fresh that I my head felt heavy after a while. My brain is accustomed to the minimal, polluted and recycled air in Bangalore. I felt that I will get high by breathing the fresh air which gushed in through the open car windows.

We reached Talakaveri after 1.5 hours of drive through the sinuous roads. It was located on top of a hill. Given the fact that we Indians pray nature, I expected a small temple at this location. The trees, the rocks and the rivers receive our prayers for sustaining life. I was surprised to see a very big temple at Talakaveri. At that height we were enveloped by a passing cloud. Mist surrounded us. We couldn’t see more than a few feet beyond us. Huffing and puffing, we also climbed to the view point by climbing about 200 steps. The view was worth all the effort. We were surrounded by verdant hills on all sides. The sun started to set and colored the sky with orange and crimson lines.

After the visit to Talakaveri we started back to the homestay. When we arrived, we were welcomed by bugs which crawled around the room in pairs. 

To be continued ...

                                                         Coorg was full of jackfruit trees

                                                           The temple at Talakaveri

                                                     View of the hills from the viewpoint

                                                      I wonder who stays at this place

Trip to Coorg - Part 1

The day we started to Coorg was a crisp morning. It smelled full of hope, like a freshly baked bread out of the oven, waiting to be devoured. The day was devoid of the disappointments, anger and frustrations of the the previous day. 

Our cab driver arrived a bit late and increased the blood pressure of my hubby. He was worried that we will have to drive to Coorg if we missed the bus. It would me mean 3 hours of him driving, 3 hours of me driving which amounts of another 3 hours of him driving sub-consciously. To the great relief of my hubby, the cab driver arrived with apologies, and took us to the satellite bus stop where we boarded the bus to Coorg. 

The A/C bus had a layer of stubborn dust on the exterior, which clung to it as though it were a second coating of paint. The rickety old bus rattled merrily along the speed breakers, potholes and jerked the passengers to and fro. We started at 7:00 AM and reached Coorg at 1:00 PM.

We had a reservation for one night at Gowrinivas homestay in Madikeri. It is my first stay in a homestay. I had an unpleasant opinion about homestays. Staying in a strangers' house never seemed appealing for me. Since my hubby and I decided that we should be open for new experiences, I agreed to stay in a homestay. I must say that I was impressed with this homestay. There were two houses, one in which the owner stayed, the other house had two rooms, and these were leased out for visitors. The garden was beautifully maintained. There were small plants, shrubs, trees, they also had a swing tied to a tree trunk. I loved this homestay. I wish I had a home like that.

The owner of the homestay was kind enough to suggest our itinerary for the rest of the day and a place for lunch. We went to Raintree Restaurant for lunch. The restaurant was in a walking distance from our homestay but our ignorance led us to hire an auto. We had a simple non-gluttonous meal, chicken chettinad with appams and one naan. I ate Chicken Chettinad a few other times before. I realized that it is almost impossible to screw this dish. It tasted so good every time. Who would've imagined that a modified dosa will taste so good with chicken? Well that is Appam and Chicken Chettinad for you. Non-ironically, when we were having lunch it rained at the Raintree restaurant. With our bellies full and smiles on our faces, we were all geared to explore Coorg.

To be continued ...

Gowrinivas homestay at Madikeri. The house in which the owner stayed. 

Our humble and comfortable quarters

The garden at the homestay and view of the town from the garden

                         I was fascinated by this swing. It took me to my childhood days.

The homestay, Gowrinivas was aesthetically decorated. The owner said, 'the credit goes to my wife, the debit to me'. 

Let the Ungli Olympics begin!

Couple of months ago, I saw an interesting ad on TV. The setting is a beauty parlor. A woman is having a manicure. She looks at the beautician. The girl is young and looks rustic. The woman wants to make fun of the girl in front of her friends. She asks her, 'What do you do to protect yourself?'

I was expecting the answer to be on lines of an app which provides the location or a pepper spray to defend against the offenders. 

The girls answers, 'I put a black tika'

The woman laughs, repeats loudly what the girl said, 'A black tika?'. She also looks at her friends who also smile at the stupidity of the girl.

The girl shows her forefinger which has the black tika (election ink). The woman and her friends will be ashamed. 

I am surprised by the amount of publicity  the elections have got and I am happy about that. Ads on TV and requests on radio, entreat the people to vote and make a difference. A vote can change our decrepit and corrupt political system. 91.8 tag line is, 'This is the radio station for fun, young and responsible Bangalore. Responsible Bangaloreans who vote. If you don't vote, you don't have the right to complain.' 93.5 Disha Oberoi says, 'On April 17th, we 74 lakh Bangaloreans, dabake bajayenge, 93.5 redfm bajathe raho'. The tagline I love the most is by Nishant and Raj from 93.5 red fm, they call it 'Ungli Olympics.' 

Every time, I listen to these ads, I feel a pang of guilt. Guilty of not being able to vote and participate in this historic election. Why? I applied for a voter id in Bangalore, not once but twice, once in 2013 and again in 2014. Bangalore Chief Electoral officer decided not to give me the right to vote. Since then, I have been going around, asking people at my work place, 'Can you vote?', If they say yes then I tell my sad story. If they say no, then also I will tell my sad story. We both empathize about our misfortune and decide to keep on applying for voter id until we get our fundamental right.  

There is election fever everywhere. There is a tug of war between the man who gets slapped left and right, a man who cannot deliver a few sentences without being made fun of and another who is promoting chai, and highlighting Gujarat to be the best state in the whole wide world. Given the credentials of the contenders, I must admit, I am also looking forward for the results. If you are one of the 74 lakh bangaloreans who have the right of vote, please do vote on April 17. Take picture of your finger with the black tika, post it on facebook, twitter and pinterest, and encourage others to vote. A proud act deserves to be publicized. Do yourself and the country a big favor, while I stew in my regret. Let the Ungli Olympics begin!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Saint Homibaba and his dream - Part 2

Read Part1 of the story here

Leela went to Chandraprakash and asked, ‘Who are you?’

Chandraprakash was silent. He wanted to establish his identity in the village as a spiritual person. Leela did not get any reply.

After that day, Leela visited Chandraprakash everyday. She believed that he was a powerful sadhu and started praying to him. She left him some food everyday. How else would he feed himself if he meditated all day?

Humans have the strong urge to build coincidences out of unrelated incidents. No sooner did Leela start praying the hermit, Leela came to know she was pregnant. Leela was overjoyed. She went to the village and told to everybody, ‘The Sadhu who is in the Shiva temple is very powerful. He will fulfill all your desires.’ and the rumor spread.

Slowly, the people from the village lined up to see the Sadhu and take his blessings. The Sadhu never spoke. He heard everything and nodded his head. As per his worshippers, the viboodhi which he gave made everybodys’ wishes come true. People called him Saint Homibaba.

Saint Homibaba’s fame spread to nearby villages. A few rich people from those villages got Homibaba’s blessings and rose to positions of power. Saint Homibaba’s empire spread. He got more money than he could ever dream. Everything went well, until the night of the wretched dream.

Saint Homibaba was sitting beneath a tree. That day was an unusual day. Nobody came to visit him and seek his blessings. These were void blessings, which people believed had the power to change destiny. He saw someone walking towards him. As the stranger approached, he saw a man of great valor and courage. He was bedecked in jewels and wore a tunic.

He said to Saint Homibaba, ‘I am Raja Chandrachur Singh. I built the Shiva temple which serves as your humble abode. I have waited long for someone selfless like you, to come along and relieve me of these earthly shackles. During the war with the Britishers, I hid all the jewels and thousand tonnes of gold under the temple’

Saint Homibaba’s eyes shone with excitement. The gold was the ticket for unparalleled fame and wealth. He asked Raja Chandrachur Singh,’ Where is the gold buried?’

The Raja took him inside the temple and showed him a marked spot on the ground. The Raja told him, ‘Use this gold for philanthropic activities and release me from this world.' The Raja disappeared after saying these words.

Next morning Saint Homibaba, summoned the villagers. Everybody came and stood around him. They thought, ‘Saint Homibaba has called. It must be something important’. To the surprise of the villagers Saint Homibaba spoke. He stood on a pedestal, and his saffron robes fluttered in the soft breeze. He overlooked the villagers, as though they were his children. His loud voice silenced the murmers of the villagers. ‘I saw Raja Chandrachur Singh in my dream. He told me about the hidden gold beneath the Shiva temple. All that gold is yours. Let’s dig it up’.

The villagers were elated. They came with spears and spades to dig the spot, which had the hidden gold. The clangs of the metallic rod on the stone reverberated in and around the temple. The neighboring villages came to know about it. They also arrived by the truckload to partake the gold. It was a mad frenzy. People camped day in and day out, dug and dug until their arms were worn out and the brown earth covered their body like a layer of paint. They dug the temple and also the surrounding land. The digging continued for about two weeks, but they did not find any gold. They found a few scraps of unworthy metal. The villagers were disappointed and returned to their homes. They understood that they acted foolishly based on Saint Homibaba's dream. They wanted to challenge him. Saint Homibaba was nowhere to be found. 

Two days after the villagers started digging the Shiva temple for gold, Saint Homibaba aka Chandraprakash had another dream. 

He saw Raja Chandrachur Singh. He asked Chandraprakash, 'Did you find the gold?' 

'Not yet. We should find it soon.'

'Where are you digging?'

Chandraprakash took him to a location inside the temple and showed it to him.

The Raja said, 'Oh! It is'nt here.'

'But, you told me to dig here'

'Here or there god knows where. 

I am your wife whom you left without a care

In the disguise of the king

Now hear me sing

You are a lazy young fellow

Acting graceful and mellow

Now let us hear the crowd bellow

Let the angry lot

Kick you a lot'

Raja Chandrachur Singh sang, danced, laughed and cried, all at the same time. As he did that, he transformed into Chandraprakash's wife. 

Chandraprakash woke with a start, gathered his wealth and left the village, fearing a backlash from the villagers. The past came to haunt him in inexplicable ways and ruined his present life.

                                            The Shiva temple where the digging took place

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This story is a work of fiction inspired from the gold hunt incident in Uttar Pradesh. 

Saint Homibaba and his dream - Part 1

The villagers called him Saint Homibaba. His real name was Chandraprakash Mukherjee. Before he became a saint, he was common man like you and me. How did he become a saint is an interesting story in itself. 

Chandraprakash had a pestering wife, who ranted about their poverty day in and day out.

‘Lakshmi has got a new gold chain. Her husband gave it to her. What have you given me since marriage? These dishes to wash and these old sarees’, Padma said that and banged the dented aluminium vessel on the ground. The vessel has already taken a lot of dents, what is one more dent to it?

‘People are prospering all around us. You are lazy. Why can’t you go out and do something worthwhile?’

Chandraprakash did go out that night, never to return. The night holds several secrets in its belly. It is only a matter of time, until the secrets gush out in torrents and torment the keepers of the secrets. It was a starless night. The universe has also conspired for his escape.

Chandraprakash decided to roam the length and breadth of this country. On his way to Kashmir, he met a Sadhu who initiated him into the monastic life. He stayed in a monastery, located on the banks of River Ganga. He stayed at the monastery for a few months. The disciplined life style took a toll on Chandraprakash's laziness. He escaped from the Monastery.

For several months, Chandraprakash roamed around the country. He met all kinds of people during his travels, from daily labourers to youngsters. The daily laborers stretched their sinews in the sun, struggled from day to day to make their living. The youngsters did the opposite. They splurged their money in coffee shops, restaurants and malls, without a care about future. He read people as books. He learned about human nature, the ever greedy nature that covets for instantaneous wealth.

He travelled south and went to Chandoor. He decided to stay here for a couple of years, among unknown people. There are times when strangers show us more mercy than our loved ones.

Chandoor is a quaint village, nested beneath two hills. Modernity has not consumed the village yet. It still had lush green fields and sparkling water bodies. About fifty families made Chandoor as their home. Everybody knew everyone else. A loud sneeze was enough to reveal the identity of the sneezer. 

The village also had a historic Shiva temple built by Raja Chandrachur Singh, which spread over an acre. The Raja died in the Battlefield while braving the Britishers against conquering his kingdom. The villagers heard the aarti at odd times in the night. They saw flickering diyas in front of Lord Shiva, in the absence of a living soul. Hence, the rumor started that the temple was haunted by the Raja and no one went close to that land.

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Leela was a simple woman, with simple desires. All she wanted was a son. She prayed to hundreds of Gods to no avail. Her wishes were unheard and her womb empty as always. Every morning, even before the village woke up, she went to the Shiva temple to clean it and make penance for the sins committed in her previous life.

One day, she saw Chandraprakash, sitting inside the temple in front of the linga and meditating. She saw a person whose face showed intelligence. His long matted hair and beard signified his intimacy towards spirituality. 

To be continued ...

Chandraprakash's travels took him to several beautiful places