The ghwirrr of the generator downstairs ascends in pitch interfering with my silent reverie. I drift away again, with some effort.
Wayanad - picture perfect. For a few moments, let me overlook the slightly defaced hilltops, the tea gardens competing with verdant green natural forests, the coffee staking its claim on the lower slopes. Been a while since I saw such thickly-carpeted hills. Been some time since I felt that sharp, cool slice of wind that sends a shiver down one’s back... the kind that you get only around the mountains.
The woods, they are lovely, dark and deep. We pull over, parking the trusty Fiesta just off the road. Tall bamboo, crackling in the wind, birds, crickets, cicadas - the forest racket reigns. We spot fresh elephant poo. A honeycomb hovers above, threatening. A tall ant hill - what’s the probability there’s a snake inside? We’re near a water hole, we discover. Don’t animals frequent waterholes? Oh. Is there a leopard watching us from that bamboo thicket?
The roads are a driver’s delight - not too narrow, not too broad, just enough room to maneuver gracefully, maybe a little dangerously. Curved, if ever roads could be sensuous, these roads would be it. The Fiesta took ‘em all smooth and nice in the expert hands of our good friend Kiwi. Yeah, that’s only his nickname. He’s not from New Zealand nor does he bear any resemblance to the bird that shares his name.
Wayanad district is big; I am grateful for that. Home-stays are dime-a-dozen. The place isn’t too commercialized, yet. Hoardings advertising home-stays have giggle-inducing captions. They have a charm of their own though. Wherever you go in India, you can’t escape the thronging masses in various colors, shapes, sizes. Types. Families, honeymooners, the young in big, rowdy Matadors. The not-so-young lecherous male crowd in their cheap cars. But it’s possible to flip on that ‘space out’ button and ease yourself into a cosy aloneness. The ghats from the viewpoint crowd in on one another. Seeming almost endless. It is breathtaking. We drive ahead, hoping to find a place where there aren’t too many people. We happen on a quaint chai shop with a blue plastic sheet for a roof; dusk falls; cars whiz by. Kiwi’s camera captures light in motion as they zoom on.
We were intent on meeting the legendary yakshis; these mythical temptresses take joy in sitting atop betel nut trees demanding chunnambu from men who walk by. Lured to respond by their beauty, they would invariably end up as the yakshis’ dinner! Suitably warned not to heed any smooth voices demanding chunnambu, armed with flashlights and a stick, we crept down the road swapping ghost stories. For reasons yet un-understood, walking with flashlights turned off on a potholed road makes one giggle and laugh a lot. I don’t know if we traumatized the yakshis, but we sure did scare off a few dogs! The heroes of the night were the ethereal glow worms.
Why are flickers of golden light so glorious on a dark, moonless night? Uplifting.
Kiwi sets up his camera, again. We sigh. We couldn’t beat him. We joined him. How hard is it to capture a betel nut tree in starlight? Is an exposure time of 300 seconds enough? It almost was, with lovely effect.
A chirpy morning breaks. It’s time to leave, almost. But wait. You can't miss the mandatory plantation walk. Never knew dried eucalyptus leaves were so potent. We are ceremoniously introduced to ‘odomos’ eucalyptus, mangoes, cinnamon, elaichi, all spice leaves. We graciously accept the all spice leaves we are offered. We walk around sniffing, touching, tasting. Gooseberries, plucked fresh, quickly washed in a little lotus pond is offered. I gingerly take a bite, and stop. We’ve just been cheerfully informed that the lotus pond is known to have lotuses, snails, frogs, fish as well as a number of other unknown creatures.
The hospitality in our home-stay may have been of the intrusive kind, but I quit complaining after we were allowed to go bonkers with an air rifle and an endless supply of little bullets. There was no mercy shown to the unfortunate Bisleri bottle that was our target. A Coconut followed in the bottle’s footsteps.
Kerala has good bakeries by default. Intriguing.
Kerala has good everything by default. Lucky.
Too bad most of them Keralites aren’t around to enjoy it.
Oh, by the way, if you are still wondering how to spot a yakshi, know this. She only has a front, she doesn’t have a back. You say ‘What? How?’ Go figure.
When you go to Wayanad, maybe she’ll spot you before you spot her!
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