I have been absconding from the blogging scene for more than a week now and I feel really guilty of neglecting this alter ego of mine. Well to start off with it wasnt supposed to be like this but considering the crazy things that have been going on at my workplace which ensured that I work till 8:30 p.m on a friday evening, my blog may just forgive me for the cold shoulder that I have given to it for almost a week. Somewhere on thursday last week the realization crept in that monday being a bandh for the sake of the Cauvery water issue, we had what could be termed as a really long weekend at our disposal. It was anybody's guess that staying three days at home without office would have bored me more than any kind of boredoom that our class 10 history teacher subjected us to during our school days. On a lighter note the history teacher was called "ONIDA" considering that he looked just like the Onida devil without the two tiny devil horns jutting out of his head. And all of a sudden a colleague of mine who ironically once happened to be a teacher of mine during the MBA entrance preperations suggested god's own country as the ultimate destintion to make the weekend seem more meaningful. So Mr.Chintan Parikh often referred to as Chintu and a true spirited Gujarati at heart whose bargaining skills ensured that shopkeepers downed their shutters planned the logistics of the entire tour safely leaving out the option of seeing the Venice of East's backwaters and only leaving mountains and jungles in our itinerary. The entire trip to Kerela was marked with clashing motives including a clash about this itinerary that lacked the backwaters as a destination, which could be well explained in terms of astrology when you consider that two fire signs were out on a trip with two water signs. It is anybody's guess that how well we would have gelled throughout our trip.
The disasters started off very early in the trip with us paying almost 200 rupees extra to get a Volvo to Kochi. Incidentally the bus that was supposed to carry us to Kochi had its air condition burned down and we had to spend 140 rupees extra on auto to go and collect the new tickets. Later on did we realise that we had got 2 tickets in the bus that left at 8:30 p.m and 2 tickets in the bus that left at 9 p.m on friday evening. Finally after a lot of requesting and begging we were able to get all our tickets on the same bus. Shama Travels had every mood to spoil our holiday spirit when it started off by playing a Malayali movie on the Volvo with almost 70% of the population of the bus crying foul play as the majority of them did not understand the language. Another round of begging and pleading got the helper of the bus playing "Phir Hera Pheri" the CD of which seemed to be as scratched as the "Phati Eriyan" they show on any Crack cream commercial. After every five seconds of playing it froze for a happy ten seconds. The night was pretty uneventful though the stars on the sky on one side of the bus and a glowing moon on the other side seemed really romantic and I drifted off to sleep only to be woken up by the weight of the huge frame of Chintu Parikh's body that had overflowed into my seat not being able to fit in the seat that had been allocated to him. I pushed him back into his seat only to be woken up early in the morning with nothing worser than Nasal Reshmiya shreiking "Tera tera tera suroor". Normally at any other point of time in the day Nasal Reshmiya is still hearable but being woken up to the tunes of him is very very nauseating. So finally after the repeating and re-repeating of the Himesh CD we reached Kochi only to find ourselves in even more trouble with a cab search. After spending close to one and half hours in the search of a cab we were finally able to convince Jolly Bhai(the driver) and his ambassador to carry us to our destination and back to Kochi at Rs 6.25 per kilometer. Compared to Bangalore standards it was way too costly. So we headed off to Munnar on the roads of Kerela which reminded me and Sumit (both Kolkatans) of Bengal. Me and Sumit could not stop comparing the similarity between Bengal and Kerela that included the lungi, the lal jhanda rule, the papaya trees, the mango trees etc. The road to Munnar was dotted with mini waterfalls that had decided to dry up and pictursque landscape. Jolly Bhai's CD collection just had one hindi CD, the one of Kal Ho Na Ho which he had kept on repeat mode. The monotone made us buy another CD on the way which featured the pop hits of 2005. Slowly the weather got cold as we reached Munnar and finally the newly bought sweatshirt of Adidas did feel comfortable. At Munnar Chintu Baba again resorted to barganing which slowly turned into haggling and a lot of hotel hopping which made me feel as irritated as possible. Finally we checked in into a beautiful hotel which literally had rooms that never knew what the concept of cross ventilation was. The room apparently had no window that looked out into the outside world. The rooms seemed to be an acoustic disaster as they all seemed to echo. So we could very well hear the next door couple pouring out sweet nothings. But we did not have time to waste so we rushed out after pouring a few drops of water on our bodies considering the fact that the water was way too cold and we rushed off to the Malankara reservoir. It was simply breathtaking with the moutains on both sides of the reservoir. After taking in the breath taking sceneries at the reservoir and seeing couples on honeymoon escapades enjoying the delight of boating in the huge reservoir we rushed on to a place called Echo Point. The problem with Echo Point was that there was no echo but a lot of people selling a lot of things. The adventurous Chintu Baba tried out a thing called passion fruit. To give a honest feedback it did not really induce any kind of passion but it was worth a try. The next stop was a small dam that had not been used for years together. The place sported a small joint where we hogged on omlettes like crazy and finally moved towards the place called Top Station situated 1170 metres above sea level. The road to Top Station was a narrow stretch snaking up the mountains and eneveloped in a thick layer of fog that made Jolly Bhai switch on the fog lights. Standing at Top Station seeing Tamil Nadu to our left and Kerela to our right enveloped in a thick coating of fog and the light fading away into darkness was simply fabulous. Incidentally the mobile networks of Tamil Nadu looked to be in full force on Top Station and I was finally able to make some phone calls from the 1170 metres above sea level area as Munnar had a serious shortage of mobile networks. By the time we descended back to Munnar the weather had turned really chilly inducing us to buy a Mansion House brandy on our way back to the hotel. Dinner consisted of a lot of chicken dishes well cooked with rich spices along with rice at a hotel opened by a Dubai returned guy who kept the door to the loo of the hotel under lock and keys. The lavish way in which they had used ginger and cardamom to prepare the dishes finally proved the point as to why Vasco Da Gama had been so fond of this part of the country. After the customary brandy shots we dropped dead on our beds only to be woken up later by the grunt like snores of a guy who did not want his name to be mentioned in this public space.
The next day we got up early in the morning and again heard next door couple deliberating on what all things needed to be packed from the echo effect. The hotel had finally decided to circulate some hot water that made us have a comfortable bath and finally after settling the bills we moved on towards Thekkady. The scenic beauty of the road that went from Munnar to Thekkady was breathtaking. The tea plantations spread across both sides of the road. Entire mountains had been made into tea estates and the road snaked its way through these mountains. We had a flat tyre on the way and while we stopped to get that repaired few kids from the nearby tea gardens came and we started chatting. One was known as Tenzing Beckham and incidentally he had no love for the legendary David Beckham but was much inspired by the batting skills of Mahendra Dhoni as India was bashing up Sri Lanka on the same day. The road to Thekkady was lined with cardamom plantations. Finally close to noon we reached Thekkady which houses the huge Periyar reserve that was known for its tiger population as we had heard. The boat safari on the Periyar lake was supposed to be one of the most adventurous forest safari but when we asked the same to the guard who was checking the tickets the look on his face said it all. The honest feedback provided by him consisted of mono syllables like 40 tigers, huge forest, less chance of sighting etc. On the boat we were accompanied by a group from TCS Trivandrum and it became less of a sighting adventure and more of a picnic with jokes running here and there and song sessions. What we finally did manage to see were a few storks and other water birds, a whole lot of deers, wild boars and a pack of elephants out of sheer luck, crossing the lake. The adventure continued but not having eaten anything since morning barring a few idlis our stomach was desperate for some fuel. We stopped at a town hotel which took a whole lot of time to prepare every dish but the dishes were with such huge portions that nobody ever complained about the delay in bringing the food. We started from there and landed up in Kottayam late at night barely managing to find a lodge and paying an advance when Jolly Bhai had pangs about not staying over there as they did not have a proper parking for his ambassador. And hence we had to negotiate and get back the advance and again make way towards Kumarakom some 30kms away from Kottayam and right in the middle of backwater land. The humidity factor had crept in and the easing and soothing cold weather of Munnar had been replaced by sweat and heat. Jolly Bhai led us to a resort called Tharavadu Heritage Home set up 120 years ago. The sheer elegance of the place was spellbinding. The rooms were laid out as mini cottages having cozy balconies and was a visual delight. Again Chintu Baba came into action with his barganing skills and finally convinced the person incharge to provide us rooms at off-season rates when it was the season rates which should have been applied. A lot of barganing made it possible for us to have an abode in a very luxurious cottage. Sleepy eyed we crashed into the bed and slept like logs till morning came. Me and Sumit had a glorious idea of going photo clicking early in the morning of the backwaters. It was very spell binding to see how the people had made the backwaters a perennial part of their lives with people selling vegetables out of boats or carrying constuction equipments on these long boats. We struck a good deal and hired a boat to take us to Allepy also called as the Venice of East for its breathtaking backwaters. After a quick bath followed by an equally speedy breakfast we set sail for Allepy on a boat that had seats for at least 10 people. We passed through the hustle bustle of Kumarakom to land up in the backwater highways that went all the way to Cochin. On both sides were paddy fields, lush green in appearance and we cruised through the calm waters of the place and finally landed up at a eating joint on the backwaters that served the local liquor called Todi made from coconut water and many varities of fishes. We packed the stuff and had a gala time feasting in the boat eating and drinking till we reached Allepy. On the way the breathtaking house boats that had all the amenities of any five star hotel caught our fancy. Shelling out 5000 bucks for a day on a houseboat was way too much for us poor souls and hence this bit of adventure was left for later years to come.
At Allepy we visited the beach, which was one of the cleanest beach I had ever seen in my life. The golden yellow sand glistened under the rays of the sun. Though the beach was a beauty but the waves showed how violent the sea was on those shores. After walking along the beack and getting our jeans wet by the huge waves we rushed back to the boat that had given us clear instructions to come back in an hour. Back on our way to Kumarakom, three of us drifted off to sleep while one sat on the top of the boat as it cruised along the Vembanad Lake lurching and splashing water, sometimes violently till we reached Kumarakom again to find a very furious Jolly Bhai cursing us for coming in late that had ensured that he had missed a golden opportunity of taking some people on a 5 day trip of Kerela on his ambassador. We were driven back to Cochin by a cribbing Jolly Bhai who left us near a restaurant on Cochin's M.G Road. The starving four souls had all the food that the hotel could have offered and set out to the bus stand to catch the Volvo that was supposed to bring us back to the hell of traffic jams, dacoit like autowalas called Bangalore. A very non eventful bus ride to Bangalore followed and we realised that God's own Country was history when the autowala asked for 30 rupees for a distance of less than 2 kms. The pocket had grown lighter by 4500 rupees, it grew 30 rupees lighter withing 2 kms.
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