Rain lashes
down on Bengaluru with a rare vehemence I have seldom seen in the past three
years. Not a good omen. We are about leave for my village. The power conks. All
packed but frantic last minute searches. I forget to take my camera. By the
time we are inside the bus, I am thoroughly drenched.
Next morning
at home, kids rush to see two kittens. Brown and dappled. The little mass of
furs are scared by strange faces. One lifts its paw and hisses, then snarls.
‘Don’t touch them too often’, my mother cautions.
Children are
off to cricket sessions in the courtyard. The thicket at the boundary of our
land abutting an areca nut garden is a graveyard of lost and never found tennis balls. Gone are the days when we fished out the best looking keel of
a coconut frond for a bat from the fuel wood stack. Now, a quarter century
later, I am happy to see coconut leaves as stumps.
Off to Goa for
a training on “Effective time Management”. We try the Koknan railway route from
Mangaluru. The train is late by more than five hours and we hop on to a
passenger train. Spacious and empty coaches. Entrancing vista outside. Terrible
scene along the tracks. Can we call our railway tracks as the longest dustbin
in the world? I cannot find a single trash bin in the entire train. Mera swach bharat mahaan.
Basilica of Bom Jesus in Panaji
Time
management is a subject in which I have always felt a need for lessons. The
program is relaxed, informative and different. Evening visit to a beach. Dirty,
crowded and horribly administered. The sun is blazing. We amble towards the shores.
Water looks clean. We stroll back and sit in the shades of an unused speedboat. There
is a big family of seven a few feet away from us. A woman makes two small kids defecate
on the sand. Using her feet, she pushes and piles the sand on the excreta. We
gingerly feel the patch where we sit. As we watch in dismay, the mother takes
the kids to the beach for a wash, in the same water which we felt clean a
couple of minutes ago.
Panaji is a small
town. Looks a lot similar to Pondicherry. Same rulers before independence and
similar style of buildings, architecture and colors. It is a pity that such a
lovely town is so filthy. Wherever we go, mounds of garbage greet us. When you
drive out of the city, in all directions, a line of an assortment of refuse
gaze at you along the roadside. A longer dustbin, perhaps.
A street in Panaji
Back to
Bengaluru and then to Nagarahole. The landscape comes to life as one crosses Hunsur.
Good rains for the past fortnight has made the forests verdant green. We spot
several herds of spotted deer. Plenty in numbers and a very good
prey base for the carnivores. The old, wooden forest rest house is charming.
Built in 1928, the building has not been splurged upon. No AC, no TV, no fancy
sofa sets. A spartan setting with an exquisite appeal. Flowering rows of white
lily hug the boundary of the building.
A view of and from the FRH
Spotted Deer
Indian Gray Mongoose
A pack of dhole (wild dog)
Drives in the
Park are exhilarating. The feeling is irrespective of the sightings. Fresh,
crisp air of the morning and the deer are already up and about. We drive along
the winding roads, past the alert sambar in a water body, past the indifferent
herd of wild dogs, past the muscular and powerful gaurs. A monitor lizard
hastily crosses the road and vanishes into the bushes. An Indian Gray mongoose is languorous
and inquisitive and turns back to have a quick look at the jeep. We get to see
hare, mongoose, wild boar, gaur, elephant, sambar, monitor lizard, spotted
deer, barking deer and dhole. Big cats remain elusive.
In the late
evening, we accompany the forest staffs who are carrying water to another camp
where the pump is out of order. While returning, we cross an elephant on the
roadside and it trumpets in fury. The noise is ear-shattering and before we
could regain our composure, the headlight of the jeep catches two more
elephants with a calf on the road. The driver brakes and we wait. We worry
about the possibility of the first elephant approaching us from behind. The adults quickly guide the calf to safety between them and all the three start
moving away into the forests. Then one turns around and heads towards the road again
and then changes its mind and walks back.
Later in the
night, as we stand near the window and look out, large herds of spotted deer
slowly arrive and camp all around the rest house. They must be in hundreds. Their
eyes shimmer in the dim light and compete with the large swarms of fire flies
around them.
The drive to
Ammathi the next day morning is enchanting. The roads of Coorg have been handsomely
upgraded now and it is a pleasure to be at the wheels. Meticulously trimmed durantha bushes form the boundary of
lush coffee estates all along the road. We drive past the picturesque golf
course of Polibetta and reach Alath Cad Estate, a home stay. The
property is huge and lovingly maintained. The Ain Mane (ancestral house) of the Kodavas forms a part of the home
stay. The traditional Kodava food is delicious and sumptuous. There are fruit
trees abound here and guava berries in front our room taste great. We take a
leisurely stroll in the surrounding coffee estate and spot Hill Mynas on a coconut tree
hole.
Road to Ammathi-miles to go
A view of the estate
A magpie robin at the Estate
The drive to Bengaluru from my village is uneventful and tiring but we are welcomed by pleasing rains. It
is back to the office again from tomorrow with the joy of a well-spent week
behind me.
