Rainsong in Coorg: Kodagu 2016

It is a terrible week in Bangalore. It has started with three day bus strike. The otherwise clogged roads, have turned into immovable mass of vehicles over these three days. However, through these never ending drives I have been looking forward to the weekend when we would start a five day break. Subhalakshmi has planned and arranged for a trip to Coorg.

She joins me on Friday. By day end we are spending a wonderful evening with Mahuya, Bubun, and Shome at their place. They are just back from a wild life trip in Tanzania and Kenya. Wonderful photographs, exciting stories and delicious food keep flowing. Our yearn for the road tomorrow increases manifold.

But a call from our driver interrupts us. Apparently some non-political organisations have called for a Karnataka strike tomorrow. After so many earth quake and strike infected trips to North Bengal and Sikkim, we have expected this one would be smooth. But obviously we are wrong.

Last night our friend assured us that if we can cross Bangalore boundary by 8 AM we should not face any problem. But our driver Girish urged us to start by 6:30 AM. No wonder we are the first guest at Hilton breakfast table. A quick meal and fast check out later we are on our way to Mysore Road.

We always hear about the Kaveri dispute, which affects Southern part of the state. However, today is not about Kaveri or Tamil Nadu. Two non-political bodies, Rakshna Vedike, and Jai Karnataka, powerful in Karnataka and unknown elsewhere, are unhappy about their share of water from Maharashtra. They have called for this strike. Ruling party Congress has provided tacit support. Water issue is a complex affair in Karnataka.

After crossing Lalbagh, we see some agitators sitting in front of buses on the road. But Police comes prompt and lifts them into a van. Road is cleared. Girish is still tensed. He wants to cross Ramnagar, 45 KM from Bangalore, which can be other point of contention. We soon see naked rocky hills, where Sholay was shot to depict Ramgarh ( Ramnagar turned into Ramgarh - interesting!). But Ramnagar is quiet and we cross it smoothly.

Girish is still not at ease. He speaks to a friend and announces that some disturbance is happening in Mandya - another 50 KM from here. And there are more reasons to be uneasy. Mandya's resident demigod is film star Ambareesh. After a prolonged illness he was coming back from Singapore with a huge procession of fans. An acquaintance of Girish mistakenly overtook the procession. He was almost killed by the fanatic fans.

Fortunately for us Mandya is also uneventful. We shall avoid Mysore just not to take any further chance. So no visit to Mysore palace today. We touch Srirangapatna. We shall not spend time on Tipu's relics either. A right turn leaves NH 275 takes us to a bypass road. We keep Ranganathittu Bird Sanctuary on right. No time to visit that either. But we are close to Krishnarajasagara (KRS) Dam. We are officially in Kaveri zone. The water crisis of North Karnataka should not have any impact here.

Releasing a sigh of relief we drive towards KRS. A toll gate comes. Toll is paid but the road is broken. We park on a bridge over Kaveri.

We drive further towards Vrindavan Garden. The dam is visible now. The water gates are closed. Shallow water has formed pools. Small rocks raise their heads through the water. Is it a Pelican? Yes! And a painted stork. Two spot billed ducks. A black headed ibis. And a pied kingfisher.

We have not taken any tea break. We drive 11 KM and hit NH 275 again. The road has become slightly undulating. Vast fields of maize and tobacco give us company with tiled roof cottages. The rain, which has given a miss so far, is back.

Hunsur arrives. We pull our car near a coffee shop. The set up is clean and impressive. But when inquired, an alcohol reeking staff reveals - no food will be available. Only coffee and tea can be served. While we have had our breakfast, poor Girish has not eaten anything yet. Subhalakshmi magically brings out packets of biscuit and a cup of packed yogurt for Girish.

Through the play of rain and sun, we drive another hour and reach Kushalnagar. We have places to visit here.

But before that, we must have lunch. Girish takes us to a roadside restaurant. Like any other South Indian eateries, the place is clean, but offers limited fare. We order thalis - a North Indian and a South Indian to minimise risk. Food is okay. Rain stops.

The attractions are not exactly in Kushalnagar but it's twin town Bylakuppe. After China invaded Tibet, Tibetans settled mostly in Northern India, closer to Himalayas. But a section of them moved to Deccan peninsula and settled in seven locations. Bylakuppe is one of the four in Karnataka.

Tibetan camps cannot exist without monasteries. There are a couple here. We first visit the Namdroling Monastery, which is fondly called Golden Temple. This is a Nyingma establishment. This one is on the road connecting Kushalnagar and more famous.

When we reach there drizzles start. The gate takes us to a large courtyard surrounded by monk hostels on two sides. Another side opens into another smaller courtyard where four temples are seen. One is closed for renovation. A big one is open for tourists - but evidently no puja is performed there. An adjoining smaller temple is where the puja was being offered. And towards back of the courtyard another temple for Goddess Tara is located.

Large number of tourists are roaming around. We entered the big temple open for tourists. Unlike other Buddhist temples, photography is allowed inside. . Huge golden statues of Padmasambhava, Shakyamuni, and Avalokiteshwar are adoring the theatre size stage. Muslim girls in burqas, large Sikh gentlemen in turban, Keralian middle aged people in mundus are all busy in taking selfies - handheld and stick-bound. Flashes of selfie emitting mobiles are disrupting the darkness inside.

Near the Tara Temple, some devotee has offered canned soda drinks to the Goddess. After puja is over the monks distribute the cans among themselves and enjoy the drink. In accordance with Tibetan Wei-song custom, monks burn teak leaves in absence of pine branches. The rituals are not cast in stone - they change based on time, and location.

Rain starts pouring in larger drops. Under the protection of umbrella we move under the shelter of a tea stall. Holding warm glasses of black tea, we ponder over the possibility of going inside the settlements a KM away. Rain takes a pause. Girish arrives.

We pass through the settlement - nondescript - thus we continue. A narrower road on left takes inside a meadow. A large temple is overlooking us from distance to us. This is the second temple, Tashi Lhunpo Monastery, from Geluk school of Buddhism. This is a new monastery. Dalai Lama himself came and blessed it in January this year only.

Unknown to the tourists, this one is an adobe of peace. Through the drizzles we walk towards the steps of the temple. A monk meets us and shows us a side door towards the main hall. Another elderly monk greets us at the door and shows the deities. All four schools are represented at the stage by their respective deities - Padmasambhava for Nyingma, Hebajra for Shakya, Milerapa of Kagyu, and of course Dalai Lama of Geluk school.

Nisargadhama, 3 KM from Kushalnagar towards Madikeri is our next stop. It is a letdown. It is nothing but a jungle of bamboo rounded by streams of Kaveri. Only interesting piece is a hanging bridge there. But with so many tourists around, we quickly lose interest and move onwards Madikeri.

Kushalnagar is at Mysore district, but at the border of Coorg. The landscape drastically change once we cross the border. The undulating road gives way to hilly winding stretch. The woods become denser. With every turn the path becomes more beautiful.

When we reach Kariappa Circle, just before Madikeri town, the clouds were hanging low. As instructed by our hosts, we take left turn and take a narrower road. Coffee estates start appearing. They are marked by beautiful gates with stone walls, often adorned with a beautiful sign board. As evident from it, many of them are offering it as home stays. We continue for another 5 KM, find a sign of our homestay, take another narrower road, drive through coffee plantation on both sides, and reach the gate of our destination - Victorian Verandaz.

The driveway through coffee plants leads us to a single storied house. The small portico opens up to a slope and then to a wooded valley, where clouds are hanging around some of the peaks of Western Ghats. The Coluvanda couple, Diana and Thimmaiah, greet us. An interesting looking bitch looks at us disinterestedly. "She is Minnie, a crossbreed of Dachshund and Labrador", Thimmaiah clarifies.

We check in. Diana serves tea. They need to go and pick up their daughter. Before leaving, they recommend few places to visit at Madikeri and a restaurant for our dinner.

We do not want to hurry. Instead we walk inside the plantation. The small sign boards introduce us to unknown terms like Robusta and Arabica, variants of coffee plants.

Taking the advantage of the weakness and debauchery of Chikka Veerarajendra, the last king if Haleri dynasty, British annexed the state of Coorg in 1834. In 1850, British planters from Sri Lanka discovered the advantage of Coorg soil and weather and the coffee plantations were started. Before independence of India, most of the coffee plantations switched ownership to Coorgis or to enterprises like Consolidated Coffee Limited, which was taken over by Tata in 1997.

After 300 meters we see a large flock of Malabar Grey Hornbills silently flying from tree to tree. Light is low. But our perseverance pays off.

Some deafening noise with almost metallic consistency is engulfing us. We follow it to discover huge sized crickets as sources. Sitting behind broad leaves and camouflaging against dark barks of the shade trees, they are creating this obnoxious music. A colourful centipede like creature is crawling on damp soil. Light is fading further.

Walking further takes us to the edge of a slope. A small hut sits there to offer a view to the valley below. The rickety nature does not give us confidence to use it.

We enjoy the view standing for a while. The clouds are crowding around a distant peak of the Western Ghat. The grey twilight turns blueish. Soon it will be dark. We return.

We drive through the misty road towards the town. Girish takes us near Raja's Seat, a park offering a beautiful view of the valley. Kings of Coorg used to enjoy sunset here. No question of sunset today as clouds are reigning the sky. The place would have been really enjoyable have there not been the loud blaring Hindi music and the dancing tourists around it.

Looking at our face Girish understands how satisfied we are about this place. He decides to take us to smoewhere more peaceful - Omkareshwara Temple.

The temple looks interesting. Being a Shiva temple, it accompanies a Nandi (the bull of Lord Shiva) mandap built inside a pond. In Islamic style, a dome is built in the centre with four turrets in four corners.

Although the look is very peaceful, the history of this temple is rather grotesque. Kodavas are warrior race, but because of their internal fight, they were never in power themselves in their own kingdom. Since 1630, they were ruled by Lingayet Haleri dynasty for two hundred years. Towards the end of their dynasty, like many other, the kings turned womaniser, paranoid and torturous of their own subjects. Lingarajendra, the second last king of dynasty was no exception. Once, from his debauch eyes, Subarasaiah, a Brahmin, saved a girl. Knowing that, the king killed his sons, and eventually the brahimin himself, after inhuman torture. However, the spirit of Subarasaiah kept on haunting him in his palace. At the verge of lunacity, the king consulted tantrics, who advised him to build a temple at Subarasaiah’s home to appease the ghost. And then Omkareshwara Temple was erected in the year 1820.

Through the faint drizzle, we walk pass the pond with Nandi's seat at its nucleus and reach to the Sanctum Sanctorum. The priest gives the warmth of the offering lamps and sacred water. Peace comes back.

Failing to find Raintree, the coastal cuisine restaurant recommended by the Coluvandas, we settle for Hotel Green Land. Chicken Masala, Tandoori Roti, and Masala Dosa come. Quantities- huge. Quality - alright.

We come back through the dark and dense mist. Incessant drizzle has not taken rest yet. Diana meets us. A large black dog apparates from darkness and tries to befriend us. He is Oozy, Coluvandas' second crossbreed - a result of another unequal love between a Labrador and a Rottweiler. "We wanted to raise him as a watch dog, but he is hopelessly spoilt" - Diana adds.

Half an hour later, after taking healthy bath of wood-fired warm water. I sit down with a fragrant cup of tea. Fog is gone but rain has returned with more vigour. I sip tea. I listen to the sound of droplets. In the damp chilly night, the lonely large black dog comes back in search of the warmth of human company. He watches me with friendly eye for long.

When we wake up, the sky is still dark with cloud. Chances of spotting birds will be less. Diana has kept a flask of hot water and tea bags at veranda.

Oozy comes back. Minnie watches his moves with distant dignity. A white cheeked barbet sits at a branch nearby.

Diana serves Coorg style breakfast at 7:30 AM. Paaaputtu ( broken rice cake steamed in coconut milk), beans, papaya, toast and home made banana jam.

Thimmaiah takes us to a plantation walk at 9 AM. They have another 9 guests in another cottage. We start from the estate office near the drying compound. The family owns this 106 acre estate for 150 years. Some of the old photographs are kept at the office. In the adjacent barn they keep some old instruments and utensils collected over generations. Somebody has scrawled a cartoon portrait of General K. S. Thimayya, pride of Coorg, at the wall of barn cottage.

They grow two different coffee variants. Arabica is bit sensitive and is grown only in Northern Coorg. True to its name, Robusta, the other variant, is more tolerant. In winter the coffee fruits ripen, turn red and are called 'Cherry'. The cherries are dried, and then skins are taken out through 'pulping' process. The seeds are sold in the market and husks are sent back to soil.

Coffee plants live long - more than 100 years. They need shade trees, like tea plants. But no manicure is needed to maintain the bushes. Coffee plantations double up as pepper growing grounds. Shade trees, like Silver Oak, often are used to support the pepper vines.

The estate has varied terrains. Our trail takes us downhill near a small pond, which, as claimed by Thimmaiah, a natural one. Further downhill, we reach near a brook and a small falls. Most of our co-walkers have already given up. To support them Thimmaiah leaves us alone and goes uphill to attend them.

Subhalakshmi and I walk further. Few parakeets fly over us. The calls are different than rose-ringed parakeets or alexandrine. Must be the more beautiful Malabar Parakeet. Crickets have not taken break even at the broad daylight. We find a huge one behind a pepper leaf.

By 12 PM we drive towards Abbey Falls, about 5 KM from Madikeri town. Kaveri falls down inside a coffee estate. Despite presence of large number of annoying selfie clicking tourists, the falls is breathtakingly beautiful. A hanging bridge is constructed in front of the Rapids. But, as Girish tells us, because of multiple suicides, the bridge is closed to tourists and Police keeps a close watch now.

At Madikeri, we search for the coastal cuisine restaurant, Raintree, which eluded us last night. We find it behind the town hall. A tiled Coorgi home has been converted into this eating place. Coastal options are limited in the menu though. Local fish not available. We opt for Mangalorean Prawn Curry, Jeera Rice, and sweet and sour chicken soup. Prawns are not deveined, thus sent back. Fresh dishes taste well. Service is prompt and courteous.

We shall now drive 40 KM to Tala Kaveri, the source of river Kaveri. The drive is picturesque again. The undulating road through coffee plantations opens up to valleys where farmers are attending paddy fields. The hills in the background with hanging textures of cloud are creating beautiful contrasts. Rain keeps on coming and disappearing.

Bhagamandala comes. This is where Kaveri has met with two tributaries - Kannike and Sujyoti. The place is considered as holy confluence. A temple at river bank draws lot of religious tourists.

Further drive is uphill. Fog is coming down heavily. When Girish parks his car at Tala Kaveri, the place is covered by dense cloud. Number of stairs meet a gate. Beyond that nothing much visible except vague outline of few temples. We leave our slippers at car and walk barefoot upstairs.

Like many rivers in Deccan, the source is humble. It looks like a small pond. Overflowing water trickles down into a stream. It is hard to believe that in another 200 KM or so this small stream will take the shape of KRS dam.

It is believed that Sage Agastya held the River Kaveri in his kamandalu. Lord Vinayaka, taking the form of a cow, toppled the kamandalu and the river flowed. Once realised, Agastya worshipped Vianayaka here along with his own God Lord Shiva. Thus two temples for Vinayaka, and Agastyeshwara ( the name Shiva is worshiped here ) are situated at slightly higher reach through the stairs.

Through the semi darkness, we visit the temples. The hovering dots of water particles keep us reminding that we are inside the cloud. Maybe heaven is like this only. The feeble prayer lamps, sound of bells, and Sanskrit chanting inside the temples accentuate the surrealistic atmosphere. We turn back downstairs.

At Madikeri, we try to find Alankar Stores near Chowk to buy a 'tookh bolcha', traditional Coorgi hanging lamp. We find the shop through drizzle. But it is Sunday, and 5PM already. The shop is closed.

Our homestay owners are not very keen on serving meals. We have never encountered such reluctance in our five years' homestaying. However, as per their rules, we have provided them 24 hours notice about our intent to have dinner at their place today. In this rain, we do not want to come back to Madikeri.

Diana and her maid keep the dinner dishes at the adjoining dining room. She, rather rudely reminds us of the strict dining time, which must be over by 9 PM. Unusual behaviour for homestay owner.

But to be fair with them, the dinner is elaborate. Pulao, cauliflower curry, aubergine fry, Coorg style bamboo shoot curry, chicken, and chapati. Despite our prior request based on their website, they give the famous Coorg pork curry a miss, though.

Rain continues through the night with few intervals.

We slept with a hope of a brighter morning. But the sky is still overcast with dark cloud. We shall be going to Kutta in Southern Coorg.

We walk inside the plantation. Crickets are busy with their usual commotion. The grey hornbills are in their favourite parching areas of silver oak trees. A southern coucal sits at a mango tree. Drizzle comes back.

The Coluvandas will be visiting a relative's place to attend a family matter. Breakfast is served early. It misses the variety. Cold idly, sambar, papaya, and toasts. Before going, they advise us a short route to Kutta. But we have other plans.

At Madikeri we come back at Chowk. Alankar Stores is still closed. But a small tookh bolcha is picked up from another shop nearby.

The car follows the same route through Kushalnagar till Hunsur. Instead of continuing towards Mysore, we take Nagarhole Road, which will take us to Kutta. This is a longer option from Madikeri. But we want to drive through the national park with an idea of spotting wild animals.

The road is narrow, but in moderately good condition. Rain has stopped. Sky has taken the look of autumn with blue hues and cotton clouds. The car stops at Nagarhole gate, 25 KM Hunsur. Entries are made at forest register. AC is turned off and Windows are rolled down.

We see spotted deers within 200 meters of the gate. A peacock crosses the road. But we are yearning for something more.

The road has dense vegetation on both sides. On the left a slope goes down to meet a ravine. Teak trees form a close file on right. At a turn, a sub-adult male tusker is busy munching tree leaves right on the road. We stop. He moves a bit into the bushes but is towering over it. It is still not safe to move. A car comes from opposite direction and stops too. The elephant moves deeper into the bushes and soon it disappears.

Though the park is closed, the road is open as it provides the shortest connection to Mysore from this Southern tip of Karnataka and neighbouring Waynad district of Kerala. Cars are. coming with regular interval from both the directions. Some of them are locals, obvious from their sense of hurry and honking, which is absolutely deplorable and illegal in a national park. We keep on driving slowly.

Our patience is awarded again when we see a couple of wild boars busy excavating bulbs from the ground. The rain and cars have not managed to deter their focus and determination. We have seen wild boars earlier, but never so close and not in broad daylight.

We pass through a forest village. A school is busy with its people. The safari counter is closed. Spotted deers are roaming around these human habitation freely and fearlessly.

We come out of exit gate near Kutta. The landscape has taken the shape of typical Coorg again. Coffee plantation, tiled houses, shade tree, and pepper vines.

Girish stops at Saptagiri restaurant though our homestay owner in Kutta suggested Cafe Robusta, which is another 2 KM as per Google Map. We are hungry. Veg chowmein and chilli chicken come prompt. Taste is not bad.

Girish takes direction from Poovanah, owner of Pepper Trails homestay, our shelter tonight. But heavy rain lashes our windscreen. We realise the we have driven more than 12 KM from Kutta. It cannot be that far away. We take U turn. But mobile signal fails. In a KM it comes back at Girish's mobile. Further direction takes us near a small village. A kuchcha road bears many homestay signboards. Pepper Trail is among them. We drive through a dense plantation for 600 meter. A small colourful tiled roof house sits at a small clearance. A handsome bearded young man comes from another house over the hillock at right. Warm greetings fly. He is Poovanah. We have reached Pepper Trail.

Tea comes quickly. We chat with Poovanah. The 40 acre plantation is his father's property. He was doing is post graduation in hospitality management in Goa. Seven months back he came back to help his father. The homestay is his idea of using his expertise in an organic manner with his plantation business. The bachelor young man receives extensive help from his mother.

We talk about possibility of birding. He admits honestly about not being a bird watcher himself. But he points to a bushy guava tree full of fruits and says "parrots devour this fruit everyday - another guest here told me that it is a rare bird". We are curious. Further questions reveal it is parrot indeed, not a parakeet. Then it must be vernal hanging parrot. Not exactly a rare bird - but definitely an endemic species. Would be a lifer for us.

We take a plantation tour. Unlike the Coluvandas, this Tirtheera ( family name of Poovanah ) young man very willingly answer all our curiosity. We learn about the runner, the small branches come out of pepper vine near ground and are cut into pepper saplings. He talks about hard planter's life. Many of the young generation are leaving Coorg and settling down at big cities. Labour is also a big problem in the plantations. Many of the plantations keep few tribal families at their estate as permanent labour. Apart from their daily wages, their accommodation, medical help, children's education are taken care. However, many of them are moving to other planters for higher wages.

We walk down the plantation trail. Poovanah shows a citrus tree. The fruit from this tree, called Kachumpuli, is used to create a thick black sauce, that gives an unique flavour and sour taste, to Coorgi dishes.

The trail opens into a valley. Other side of the valley is bordered by forested hill, the Brahmagiri. Elephants are regular here. Three days back a lone tusker was in the estate for two days. Foot imprints in the soft soil are still visible. Few months back a tiger pug mark was found in the valley. They kept the foresters informed.

We freshen up at the huge attached bath with 24 hours running hot water. Evening sets in. Poovanah's staff Sandeep lights a small campfire for us under a thatched roof. Poovanah offers some old wine brewed by his mother - he is not sure of the fruit used for fermentation. We settle for vodka from our own stock. Chicken pakora arrives like magic through the rain. Few more logs of wood goes into the fire, and atmosphere is all set for a hearty chat.

Our young host informs us that Kodavas do not consider themselves as Indian. Legend is they came with Alexandar as mercenaries from somewhere in Middle East. After demise of that great conqueror, they settled in India. The language they speak is a mix of Kannada, Malayalam, Tulu ( language of Mangaloreans ), and Konkoni. They definitely look different with fairer skin and sharper profile than average Kannadigas. So there might be some merit in their legend.

In 1857 Sepoy Mutiny, Kodavas fought spontaneously for British. In 1861 as a token of appreciation and a gift for their loyalty, Mark Cubbon, the Chief Commissioner of Mysore and Coorg, exempted them from the Disarming Act. 100 years later, in independent India, the Kodavas who owned land since Haleri dynasty, were exempted again from Indian Arms Act 1959.

Poovanah's father was a good hunter. This area had a good population of black panthers. During his youth, before hunting was banned, the old gentleman shot a black panther in this property. Now he has taken voluntary retirement from plantation, leads a relaxed life with his dogs (a boxer and a couple of pomerians) and drinks.

Alcohol is not a taboo in Kodava culture. Many of the ladies of the plantations brew wines from fruits, betel nuts and other sources. In every social occasion alcohol is served.

The campfire is losing its life. Some more logs come and comes the dinner. We eat kadambut (rice balls ), nooputtu (rice noodle ), ladies finger pan fried with ginger garlic paste, carrot salad, pandi curry (Coorg style pork curry ), kozhi curry (Coorg style chicken curry ), and, most surprisingly, gulab jamun. We sleep with happy stomach listening to the rhythm of rainsong.

Drizzle continues in morning. We cancel our plan to do a safari at Waynad. Throughout the morning, playing hide and seek with rain, we try to spot birds. A large flock of Malabar parakeets fly back and forth through the plantation. With its blueish green plumage, it looks far, more beautiful than their cousins in Northern India.

An orange minivet male sitting on a citrus tree creates huge contrast against green background. Behind the orchid leaves, on a citrus tree, an Indian Yellow Tit observes us after playing few somersaults. A racket tailed drongo is busy with mocking calls. He has lost his elongated tail on left.

Breakfast comes. Again an elaborate affair - appam, akki roti, potato and coconut curry, coconut chutney. I taste their own coffee - better than the one of Coluvanda's plantation.

Poovanah takes us to their kitchen garden and nursery. He opens a sack and shows dried coffee cherries. We buy coffee dust. He gifts Subhalakshmi a packet of Cardamom, again from his plantation. He will take his mother to Mysore for a medical checkup. We shall transfer to another homestay. But he invites us to stay at Pepper Trail as long as we want before we move. A welcome invite after the strict 11 AM check out rule at Coluvanda's. But we need to move - few more things to cover today.

Subhalakshmi packs. I sit at veranda. We wave at Tirtheeras, as their car leaves through the droplets from shade trees. A small green bird comes and sit at a guava tree. The vernal hanging parrot. Camera fails to focus it in the green foliage.

After hitting main road, we take right towards Kutta. A KM, and we take a narrow road on right downhill. The expanse of a valley is visible now. After taking few turns Manchalli village arrives. Through a kuchha road we come to a beautiful house with a Mahindra Thar parked at Courtyard. Woodpecker Homestay.

A man of my age with look and physique of South Indian movie star comes out. Machamada Sharmin (Machamada is family name – unlike many other South Indian communities, Coorgis do have family names – but they put that before first name) runs a fourty acre plantation and this picturesque homestay. We are greeted and showed a clean large room. Luggage are placed. We shall come back at afternoon.

First destination today is Iruppu falls. 6 KM from Manchalli towards Madikeri, a left turn and another 5 KM. We arrive at the lap of Bhramagiri. The Rameshwara Temple sits adjacent to the parking. It is closed. We buy ticket and take a trail to falls.

The roar of a lively falls greets us. A hanging bridge over a youthful stream comes. This is Lakshmanatirtha river, a tributary of Kaveri with meeting point at KRS dam. A turn later, we get a grand view of the falls.

Unlike Abbey Falls, people can go near it. Some of the tourists, of both leisure and religious varieties, are taking bath. From the signboards we learn that this is also the start of Bhramagiri trekking route. Definitely worth a try in drier seasons.

Time to have lunch. We decide to try Cafe Robusta. A wrong decision. A tiny menu. Chilly Chicken again. But worse. Little more than bones covered with batter, fried, and dumped into gravy.

We enter Nagarhole. Usual spotted deers, wild boars, peacocks. Birds are silent. We cross the safari camp, forest village. Rain comes and goes. Deers are indifferent. An hour passes. We turn. Cross the camp again. A sub-adult elephant on left. So near the camp. Must be a forest elephants. We move closer. Wow! It attempts to charge. Car halts. Another wild sub-adult tusker. Or may be the same one we saw yesterday on other side of the jungle.

We come out of Nagarhole by 4 PM. We have couple of more hours before darkness. We can visit a Tea Estate by Tata. A tea estate in coffee country. But it means driving towards Iruppu again and farther. With a smiling face Girish drives. We reach Saipetta, rake left turn. After a while the rolling meadows of manicured tea estate arrives. The sprinklers, for unknown reason, are alive.

A snaking road with picturesque bungalow near the turn. A local lady in fluorescent pink Sari walks down the road. Not another soul around. We walk a bit under the sparse shade trees, through the narrow trails. An unknown bird flies over us announcing impending evening.

Sharmin, Princey, and their school going son meets us at Woodpecker. Tea comes. Sharmin's elderly mother joins us and affectionately admires Subhalakshmi's name, which is more common in South. Sharmin encourages us to visit, Ramtirtha, a mountain stream, twin of Lakshmanatirtha, flowing behind his property.

We take the dirt road, and get into the stream ankle-deep. On other side a shallow scrub jungle with darker wood behind. We sit and watch the darkness flowing with the stream. Taking a break from rain, the frogs join the cricket symphony with croaked baritone.

Sharmin and we chat amidst the rain that resumed after darkness set in. Tea, followed by soup comes to keep us warm. He gives us some insider view of planter's life.

"The estate was more than 150 acres. But after being partitioned among brothers and cousins, I own 40 acres of it now. "Owning a plantation" may sound cool to urban folks, but reality is - it is a back-breaking business. From January to March, it is a day-in day-out job. I do not take any guest in my homestay during that time. My job is even difficult as my estate is not contiguous, but a fragment of twelve gardens spread across the village."

He continues. "We have to depend a lot on weather during harvesting. If it rains, then we need to stop harvesting, as we cannot dry the cherries. But if we keep the cherries long unharvested, it will over-ripen, crack and lose the pulp and juices. Since we sell the dried ones by weight, we lose money. Moreover, the price is stagnant. And Government subsidy has stopped. Tough time for us."

Dinner comes. Chicken curry, delicious dal, and pandi curry, again. Heavenly. Dessert is a pleasant surprise - homemade gulab jamun. The servant carrying the dishes to table is bit drunk. "Today is off day in my estate. It is difficult to keep them away from toddy" - Sharmin apologetically explains. He and Princy ensure that the servant is not present during dinner.

The morning is grey. Light breeze flows. We remember what Sharmin said last night: "Parrots love chiku fruits - you should keep a watch at my courtyard in the morning". We have a look out. But birds are nowhere. A hanging mask at Woodpecker stares at us with earnest interest.

A walk in the village instead. Not many houses. Parakeets tease us by flying over us. We turn back and go towards the stream. Kids, from the labour families are going to school.

A small solitary green bird comes out of the dark chiku foliage and sits at a leafless tree top. The vernal hanging parrot. With overexposure I try to correct the bright background. The parrot does not care of the rapid shutter noise.

Sharmin takes me to one of his labour's house. They are from Paniya Aravas tribe. The women folk wear a head cover. Sharmin speaks at their language for collecting their Adhaar Card to rectify their misspelt names. The man served us last night. Today he is sober. He poses with his wife smartly in front of our camera. But his mother is gracious with her dignified look in camera.

Another elaborate breakfast later, we take leave from Machamada family.

Nagarhole is rainy, uneventful. We drink tasteless tea at Hunsur. Tipu's Summer Palace and Gumbaaz seem dull at Srirangapatna after last few grey but colourful days at cloudy green Coorg.

We have not noticed when mobile signal has crawled back. Calls from office start to pour in. So does the flood of mails. Before long, we are mercilessly dragged back to our busy urban professional self. By the time we reach Bangalore airport and take leave from Girish, Coorg rainsong is already a memory.