What's to love about Coorg?

I think I have been to Coorg district about 53 times so far. Ok, maybe not, maybe just about 5 times. Rafting in the Barrapole, some lame homestays, some lovely ones, a few more somewhere in between. Hospitality, lacking in class perhaps, but compensated by the warmth and sincerity of the homestay owners.

I have been to Kabbe Cottages, one of the most delightful homestays I've had the fortune to stay in. And the only one with class, let me add. So good that I went there a second time, and sent my Dad and Mom and their gang along with a jackfruit to experience their hospitality and the lovely environs. Yes, Kabbe's display of those ten million fireflies jamming on the trees in absolute symphony remains undefeated as one of the top sights I have encountered. That image can hold its own against even the mighty mountain - desert - valley views of Leh.

Kushalnagar - one visit isn't good enough for this lovely Tibetan settlement. It is difficult to imagine how it would be if I had to leave my hometown and settle 2000 kilometers away. Humans can take a lot of adversity indeed. The air is different. The guys are cuter; the women hotter; the temples different; the food curious. Namdroling enthralls with colorful wall paintings and golden towers and touristy stores. In spite of the crowds and the kids and the wailing babies, the place is peaceful. It's perhaps the prayers of a thousand displaced souls that makes this place so powerful and peaceful.

Namdroling might be crowded, but Kagyu is still undiscovered. Perhaps because the parking lot is still not cleared of grass, or maybe the anthills still stand undisturbed. Perhaps they couldn't rustle up enough money to break them down to make the circular garden, the plan of which is obvious from the pathway that leads up to the monastery. Even the imposing steps that lead up are incomplete - lines zigzag across the un-tiled steps. Inside, blue Bhutanese currency is pressed into the offering bowl alongside the incense sticks that have burned out now. Kagyu and its bee colonies stand atop a little hillock, inviting and intimidating at the same time. I want it to stay my secret sanctuary in Kushalnagar - for some more time at least.

Madikeri - that cute little town, oh! The elevation of St. Michael's church lifts you up along with it as you walk in. The prayer service - Mass - is underway inside. There is a little girl, perhaps 7 walking outside the church along with her elder brother. She smiles back at me, her eyes brighten. Playing truant, no doubt. Their sister walks out after a while, wagging her finger in disapproval. No way to get into the good books of Daddy or God.

Madikeri town is normal - we wander around its narrow lanes. I love the way the roads go up and down and up again. There is the drunk by the corner; his friends are trying to revive him. Wait, going by the way they are shoving him around, maybe they aren't friends. There is the old coffee estate owner ('one in Sunticoppa and the other here in Madikeri') who sweet-talks me into buying instant coffee and bay leaves. It's not much, he says. It's a lot, considering I never intended to buy from you, I reply. I look around. He sells estate coffee, Coorg spices and electronic printing. We wave goodbye. There is of course, your Malalyalee chai shop, selling pazham pori. We tuck into oily pazham pori and masala tea. Our search for bamboo shoot pickle continues. We end up buying 'malai vaazha pazham' - that roughly translates to mountain banana. The taste is as complicated as a single malt - plain banana in the beginning, honey in the middle and a coconut cream flavor finish.

My experience with Coorgi style pork curry has grown better with every trip to Coorg. Perhaps I am learning to appreciate it more; perhaps the taste is actually better. But a gushing Reena aunty happily shares her recipe, which I have forgotten now. Like every other recipe I earnestly asked for in Coorg.

As the clouds rush at touching distance, I am told that November and December are good months for stargazing. Got to go back then, I make a note in my head. My binoculars hang useless around my neck.

Back to Bangalore, pleasantly awakened to the fact that the weather was absolutely comparable to Madikeri itself. Well, I couldn't touch the clouds and the roads aren't all that up and down, but that's alright.

The fragrance of the big, green, healthy elaichi takes me right back to Madikeri. Cloves and Marathi Mokku form an irreplaceable part of my spice box now. All from Coorg, of course. The cinnamon in my coffee and the honey in my masala chai will keep Coorg alive in my head for a while... until I go back.