Whenever I travel from Delhi to my hometown, I somehow know the exact time it enters Bengal. No, not by the name of the stations, but by the shade of green outside the window.
From the rough brownish green landscape near Delhi, to the dull green in UP and Bihar, it suddenly changes into a bright and nearly fluorescent versions in Bengal, a colour we called “kochi kolapatar rong" (the hue of the new banana leaf). It always gives me a feel of being at home.
Somehow, a visit to Coorg in Karnataka brought back that feeling, just because of the beautiful and bright greenery all around.
Somewhere in between those well-known names like Bangalore and Mysore, Coorg may not appeal to all kinds of travellers. For the north Indian tourist, it is not at such a great height to be called a proper hill station. Neither it is a “happening” place like Goa. But it has its own old-world charm – in the winding roads, in the colourful temples seen here and there on the sides of the highway, in the small rural post office cabins, in the tall silver oak and rosewood trees trying to touch the sky, in the traditional pyramid-shaped sloping roofs of the houses, in the jasmine-flavoured white coffee flowers scattered like snowflakes atop the shrubs, in the Golden Orioles, always in pairs and flying from one tree to another like yellow streaks, and in the magnificent Brahmagiri hills lording over it all.
My trip to Coorg started with a bang, literally. On the way to the airport with my friend and her son, our cab was involved in a minor pile-up accident. No one was hurt except the vehicles, but after a quite hectic morning, which began with a pre-dawn call telling us that our Air India flight will be more than three hours late and us getting into a rush of cancel-AI-and-purchase Jet-to-Mangalore-and-inform-hotel-and-rearrange-cab, this incident made us slightly apprehensive. I turned it worse for myself by going on thinking about an YouTube video I saw about the difficulties in landing an aircraft on the table-top runway situated on a hill in Mangalore. Don't be silly, people do it every day, I rebuked myself as I tried to eat the cuppa noodles served at the flight. It tasted like rubber.
But by the end of the day, as we reached Woshully Estate, and checked into a more than 150-year-old British heritage bungalow tucked deep inside the over 20,000-acre Tata Coffee Plantation in Pollibetta, Coorg, my spirits had soared considerably, especially after seeing the extra-large rooms tastefully decorated with antique furniture. The next morning, a glorious sunrise greeted us, rays sneaking through trees and brightening the coffee plants all around. It is an idyllic setting for doing nothing. Just sit back and relax, and enjoy the view of the trees and the Durbeen Road in front of the bungalow (named so because anyone coming through it can be seen from the house), listen to sweet birdsong or sharp-tongued crickets, contemplate about life and read Robert Frost/Browning.
Tata Plantation Trails run nine such bungalows in the area, 40 kms from Madikeri, the main town of Coorg, or, Kodava district. We were taken to a jeep safari of the Woshully Estate and gained some knowledge about varieties of coffee plants (robusta and arabica) and their processing. It is said that coffee was introduced to the region in the 17th century by a Sufi saint named Baba Budan who planted seven “magical seeds” that he had got from Yemen on a hill in Chikmagalur. Among the many British and Indian planters who worked in the region, one name stands out. Ivor Bull, the former managing director of Consolidated Coffee Estates (which was later taken over by Tata Coffee) who encouraged the visionary ‘pooling system’, where planters came together and marketed their coffee like a co-operative. Interestingly, the Woshally bungalow has a photo of a British gentleman displayed prominently in its drawing room, but no one could tell me his identity. Only when I was searching for Coorg and coffee in Google, I found several websites and links with the photograph of the pioneer planter and conservationist, and it turned out that it was Mr. Bull’s photograph on the mantle-piece.
It might be the coffee country, but no story about Coorg forgets to mention the cuisine and hospitality of the people, a taste of which we were also fortunate to receive thanks to Jayamma, who cooked amazing food for the guests and bungalow caretaker Palraj. Among the famous dishes of the local Kodava people that we savoured were Pandi (pork) Curry (I don't eat pork, but tasted the delicious gravy), rice rotti and Kudumbuttu (rice flour balls). Kodavas are a proud martial race with many notable names in the armed forces (Such as Field Marshal K. M. Cariappa) and their staple is rice. They also celebrate Huttari, a paddy harvest festival. Next time someone tells me rice makes you lazy, I am going to cite this.
Speaking of Kodavas, I had the chance to read up a bit about their distinctive culture in a few books kept at the study room of the bungalow and was really fascinated. They are ancestor worshippers and their traditional ancestral homes, called aine mane, have shrines for praying to ancestors. In earlier days, all members of a clan (okka) used to live in aine mane.
The Kodavas also revere the nature and the river Kaveri, their lifeline. Many of the Kodava villages have sacred groves, a pointer to their deep respect for the nature. Kaveri is worshipped as water and not as an image. Its birth is celebrated during Kaveri Sankramana, held at its source in Talakaveri in the region. The other interesting aspect is the position of women in society. Dowry system is not encouraged and widow remarriage is a traditional practice. During the marriage ceremony, it is the mother who first blesses the bride or groom, even if she is a widow. Instead of the groom, the bride’s mother ties the symbolic chain (called pathak) on the bride. Their culture makes Kodavas truly unique. And reading about them made me realize how little I know about so many of the communities of our country.
Coming back to my tour, the only problem with staying inside a plantation is that you cannot venture out much after dark. Options of day trips were there though, and we went to see an elephant camp in Dubare (25 kms from Polibetta) where tuskers are trained for the famous Dussera festival of Mysore (highlight of this tour: crossing a rocky river Kaveri on foot. It is a lot of balancing work, but I got help from my friend), visiting the Namdroling Monastery in Bylakuppe, the second largest Tibetan settlement in the world outside Tibet after Dharmashala and taking a tour in a rickety bus in Nagarhole National Park and Tiger Reserve (sightings: A few spotted deer, a Gaur and a Sambar here and there, and two wild elephants who were so far that the photo clicked by me may need a red arrow pointer).
In fact, more than any of the sightseeing trips, I enjoyed an early morning birdwatching arranged for us as part of our tour package, in which the in-house naturalist and local guy Uday Naik took us to the Golf Course area inside the Estate and with his guidance, we had fleeting glimpses of the Golden Oriole, Plum-Headed Parakeet, Small Minivet, Scarlet Minivet and Flowerpecker. Mr Naik knows 30 types of birdcalls, mostly picked up in his childhood, during his daily journey of five kilometres to his school and back. “Then there were no school vans... like now we see even for a short distance. We used to walk for long and indulge in such activities for time-pass. Then I found out more. I knew the names of the birds in Kannada. Then I studied their English names and more about them," Mr Naik said.
You never know when and how you will discover your true calling, I thought.
As we started our journey back to Mangalore on the morning of the third day of our trip, I was restless, as if I have left something back there. I checked and rechecked my bag and everything was in order.
Maybe I left behind those hours of unhurried existence which I can never get in Delhi.
(Information collected from: The Connoisseur’s Book of Indian Coffee, McMillan; The Romance of Indian Coffee by P T Bopanna; Coorg-The Land of the Kodavas by John and Jeannette Isaac; and Tata Coffee website and a few websites on Coorg)
(Next: 48 hours in Mangalore)
From the rough brownish green landscape near Delhi, to the dull green in UP and Bihar, it suddenly changes into a bright and nearly fluorescent versions in Bengal, a colour we called “kochi kolapatar rong" (the hue of the new banana leaf). It always gives me a feel of being at home.
Somehow, a visit to Coorg in Karnataka brought back that feeling, just because of the beautiful and bright greenery all around.
Somewhere in between those well-known names like Bangalore and Mysore, Coorg may not appeal to all kinds of travellers. For the north Indian tourist, it is not at such a great height to be called a proper hill station. Neither it is a “happening” place like Goa. But it has its own old-world charm – in the winding roads, in the colourful temples seen here and there on the sides of the highway, in the small rural post office cabins, in the tall silver oak and rosewood trees trying to touch the sky, in the traditional pyramid-shaped sloping roofs of the houses, in the jasmine-flavoured white coffee flowers scattered like snowflakes atop the shrubs, in the Golden Orioles, always in pairs and flying from one tree to another like yellow streaks, and in the magnificent Brahmagiri hills lording over it all.
My trip to Coorg started with a bang, literally. On the way to the airport with my friend and her son, our cab was involved in a minor pile-up accident. No one was hurt except the vehicles, but after a quite hectic morning, which began with a pre-dawn call telling us that our Air India flight will be more than three hours late and us getting into a rush of cancel-AI-and-purchase Jet-to-Mangalore-and-inform-hotel-and-rearrange-cab, this incident made us slightly apprehensive. I turned it worse for myself by going on thinking about an YouTube video I saw about the difficulties in landing an aircraft on the table-top runway situated on a hill in Mangalore. Don't be silly, people do it every day, I rebuked myself as I tried to eat the cuppa noodles served at the flight. It tasted like rubber.
But by the end of the day, as we reached Woshully Estate, and checked into a more than 150-year-old British heritage bungalow tucked deep inside the over 20,000-acre Tata Coffee Plantation in Pollibetta, Coorg, my spirits had soared considerably, especially after seeing the extra-large rooms tastefully decorated with antique furniture. The next morning, a glorious sunrise greeted us, rays sneaking through trees and brightening the coffee plants all around. It is an idyllic setting for doing nothing. Just sit back and relax, and enjoy the view of the trees and the Durbeen Road in front of the bungalow (named so because anyone coming through it can be seen from the house), listen to sweet birdsong or sharp-tongued crickets, contemplate about life and read Robert Frost/Browning.
Tata Plantation Trails run nine such bungalows in the area, 40 kms from Madikeri, the main town of Coorg, or, Kodava district. We were taken to a jeep safari of the Woshully Estate and gained some knowledge about varieties of coffee plants (robusta and arabica) and their processing. It is said that coffee was introduced to the region in the 17th century by a Sufi saint named Baba Budan who planted seven “magical seeds” that he had got from Yemen on a hill in Chikmagalur. Among the many British and Indian planters who worked in the region, one name stands out. Ivor Bull, the former managing director of Consolidated Coffee Estates (which was later taken over by Tata Coffee) who encouraged the visionary ‘pooling system’, where planters came together and marketed their coffee like a co-operative. Interestingly, the Woshally bungalow has a photo of a British gentleman displayed prominently in its drawing room, but no one could tell me his identity. Only when I was searching for Coorg and coffee in Google, I found several websites and links with the photograph of the pioneer planter and conservationist, and it turned out that it was Mr. Bull’s photograph on the mantle-piece.
It might be the coffee country, but no story about Coorg forgets to mention the cuisine and hospitality of the people, a taste of which we were also fortunate to receive thanks to Jayamma, who cooked amazing food for the guests and bungalow caretaker Palraj. Among the famous dishes of the local Kodava people that we savoured were Pandi (pork) Curry (I don't eat pork, but tasted the delicious gravy), rice rotti and Kudumbuttu (rice flour balls). Kodavas are a proud martial race with many notable names in the armed forces (Such as Field Marshal K. M. Cariappa) and their staple is rice. They also celebrate Huttari, a paddy harvest festival. Next time someone tells me rice makes you lazy, I am going to cite this.
Speaking of Kodavas, I had the chance to read up a bit about their distinctive culture in a few books kept at the study room of the bungalow and was really fascinated. They are ancestor worshippers and their traditional ancestral homes, called aine mane, have shrines for praying to ancestors. In earlier days, all members of a clan (okka) used to live in aine mane.
The Kodavas also revere the nature and the river Kaveri, their lifeline. Many of the Kodava villages have sacred groves, a pointer to their deep respect for the nature. Kaveri is worshipped as water and not as an image. Its birth is celebrated during Kaveri Sankramana, held at its source in Talakaveri in the region. The other interesting aspect is the position of women in society. Dowry system is not encouraged and widow remarriage is a traditional practice. During the marriage ceremony, it is the mother who first blesses the bride or groom, even if she is a widow. Instead of the groom, the bride’s mother ties the symbolic chain (called pathak) on the bride. Their culture makes Kodavas truly unique. And reading about them made me realize how little I know about so many of the communities of our country.
In fact, more than any of the sightseeing trips, I enjoyed an early morning birdwatching arranged for us as part of our tour package, in which the in-house naturalist and local guy Uday Naik took us to the Golf Course area inside the Estate and with his guidance, we had fleeting glimpses of the Golden Oriole, Plum-Headed Parakeet, Small Minivet, Scarlet Minivet and Flowerpecker. Mr Naik knows 30 types of birdcalls, mostly picked up in his childhood, during his daily journey of five kilometres to his school and back. “Then there were no school vans... like now we see even for a short distance. We used to walk for long and indulge in such activities for time-pass. Then I found out more. I knew the names of the birds in Kannada. Then I studied their English names and more about them," Mr Naik said.
You never know when and how you will discover your true calling, I thought.
As we started our journey back to Mangalore on the morning of the third day of our trip, I was restless, as if I have left something back there. I checked and rechecked my bag and everything was in order.
Maybe I left behind those hours of unhurried existence which I can never get in Delhi.
(Information collected from: The Connoisseur’s Book of Indian Coffee, McMillan; The Romance of Indian Coffee by P T Bopanna; Coorg-The Land of the Kodavas by John and Jeannette Isaac; and Tata Coffee website and a few websites on Coorg)
(Next: 48 hours in Mangalore)
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