A summer night in the Western Ghats
After a rigorous and lonely year in the United Kingdom, return to a lockdown free India meant the freedom to explore.
Let me begin by saying that there is no place like Kerala if you enjoy nature. With lush green mountains, sandy beaches, shimmering backwaters, vast green paddy fields and little hillocks; all accessible by a car from almost anywhere in the region; the topology of this south Indian state is a marvel.
There had to be some reason we call it “God’s Own Country,” and it can not be just because of the people, who can sometimes be on either side of the behavioural spectrum.
I had just spent nearly one year and six months in Cardiff (Wales — for those weak in geography) and Southampton (UK), where you do not sweat daily. I am not saying I did not appreciate it but, the place never felt like home despite the uncountable benefits that one enjoys in a first-world nation.
Before returning to Kerala, a small state in Southern India, I had spent a month or so in the desert heat in Salalah, a quaint city in the Sultanate of Oman. I hail from Kerala, but I grew up in the Middle East, specifically in Oman.
Nevertheless, I was looking forward to being back in Kerala and possibly catch some rain that does not freeze my buttocks off. Before I exited the airport in Cochin, a woman who looked like she had just walked out of the sets of Stranger Things violated my nose and mouth, causing temporary discomfort.
But it was the humid and warm air outside that struck me with disappointment. Like I said, I grew up in the Middle East, the heat and the humidity is not an issue, but I had been away, burrowed in a place where it is still chilly when the sun is out.
The warmth in Salalah had been killing me, and before that, the pandemic had made it rather difficult to explore the English countryside, which I desperately wanted to. So, I needed to feast upon some greenery in the cold, away from the bustling hot heart of Cochin.
Let me be honest. I tested negative before I left Salalah and then at the airport in Cochin as well. So, I did not quarantine. I got out; I was excited to meet my friends. I may get a bit of slack for that upon some reading this. I shall take it.
I had arrived in Kerala on a Thursday. The following Monday, five of us were en route to Munnar, a busy hill station in the Western Ghats, carpeted by tea plantations, whose workers probably still remember the overseeing British feudal’s before independence.
All of us had been to Munnar several times before, but we were off to somewhere new — a campsite in a charming little village called Yelapetty (Yae-la-pae-tee), 30 minutes away from town. One of us had already been here, and he did tell us that the guide (it is wrong to term him as a guide, he was much more than just that) was delightful, and the abode equally so.
I was not expecting how delightful both would be.
Arun Kumar is a trekking guide and hails from Munnar itself. He speaks more than comprehensible Malayalam, Kerala’s local language, though you can hear the Tamilian in him. His knowledge of the town, its hills, valleys, trees, flowers and people are beyond impressive. Surprisingly, he is also an engineer, like me — one with a different dream.
The place itself lies amidst the lush green forests of the Ghats. He met us on the main road where we parked our car. Then, one must grab any essentials and take a relatively short trek through one of the many tea plantations surrounding the village.
If you do manage to keep up with Arun through the trek, you’ll hear him explain the number of hurdles one must cross in setting up a simple campsite in the mountains. The list is a long one, from paying the tea plantation workers to forest officials and other bureaucratic hullabaloos.
While traversing the valley, he explains the varieties of teas made there and goes on a sensible rant about the tea sold in a supermarket. He says the dust that we get is the result of a seven or eight-fold separation process. Many of us are yet to taste original tea.
In 20 minutes, the plantations disappear, and we enter actual forest land. Another 20 minutes, and you will love what welcomes you. A small terraced plot past the Tamil Nadu border. Shades of green all around, such that you stop and wonder in amazement. The blue sky greets you from one side as you settle down in the greens.
One can see the ashes from yesterday’s campfire not far from the little shed that houses the guides and the cook. He is a middle-aged Tamil man who works in the tea plantations when he is not cooking for guests at the camp, the same ones which we trekked through.
We met Arun around 5:30 in the evening and fortuitously didn’t have to make the trek in pitch darkness. The earlier you reach, the more time you get to take in the beauty of the woods and the incredible panorama that awaits you.
There were seven tents pitched below where we stood to take in the view. I’d think that in prehistoric times this would be how man and woman lived — somewhere in the forested mountains nestled in a little hut with a fire close nearby.
There were just four other guys there. They had travelled here from Karnataka, another neighbouring state of Kerala, probably for the same reasons as us. They had gone up the peak for a trek that we were supposed to go for in the morning.
None of us could wipe the smile off our faces as we settled in, dumped our luggage in the tents and sat by next to them to enjoy the much needed chilly evening. It was time to break open the liquor, a little bottle of Old Monk.
The friend who drove us was itching for a drink, and he poured us each a glass. While we continued to catch up over a few drinks, a bright light was flashed through the dense trees up in the mountains across us. That was the other guide who had gone trekking with the lot from Karnataka.
Soon they arrived, and he quickly came down to greet us. Shijin is a little hyperactive and more out-going than Arun. We quickly introduced ourselves, and he asked us to come over to the campfire, a brisk walk back up from our tents. But we were tired, and the drinks had gotten us settled in our chairs.
We told him we’d be up in a while as he rushed back to the campfire. We did go up to the fire more hurriedly than expected, but only after rolling a little “cigarette.”
As we got up to the fire, the Kannada boys were strumming along on their guitars. A couple of my friends were already in conversation with Arun. As I sat down, I heard him say, “We Indians like tasty food, while the foreigners like healthy food.” I nodded in agreement, but I’d say that the foreigners who do end up in India tend to be of that sort.
His knowledge of the tea making process is incredible. He knew certain types of tea that I didn’t know existed. I sat in awe, listening to him explain the procedures involved. All five of us did. I wouldn’t say that time was flying, but it was going at a perfect pace. Something many don’t experience enough. It was remarkably relaxing.
He does this for a living. Tourists from all around the world come down to experience the tea making process in Munnar. And he is one of the many instructors who guide them through a one-week rigorous trek and stay within the plantations. Arun’s conversational topics varied from tea making to Hindu philosophy, guaranteed to keep you engaged.
Soon, the clouds were moving in on us from the peaks above and across us. It was nice to gaze upon moving clouds in the mountains after a year cooped inside pucca houses.
Around nine, dinner was ready, and we needed to wake up early for the trek up the mountain to view the sunrise. The food was simple, nothing extravagant but well cooked and more than satisfactory to the taste buds.
After saying our goodnight’s to everyone, we went back down near our tents to continue the “festivities” that we left off before we came up to the campfire.
As the night passed, we could see the moon shimmering through the misty clouds which covered the mountain across us. We waited to be enveloped by the clouds, but the wait bore no fruit. Being late March meant the advent of summer, and clouds nestling at that height was a hard sell on a summer night.
We ended our laughs and “festivities” around midnight.
Arun said the three of them sometimes build another fire and sit around after the guests crash. I did not check if they did or not. The weather was getting colder, and all were tired after a long day of travel, and well, the “festivities.”
We snuggled into our sleeping bags, zipped up the tents and shut our eyes. Soon, the friends next to me snored away into unconsciousness. I chose the wrong tent to rest my head. I nodded off a bit later despite the snoring and the one honey bee buzzing around our tent.
Now, for the anti-climax. Amongst the five of us, only two got up at five in the morning for the trek. All of us woke up, but only two of us got up.
One of us had already done the trek and was least interested in sacrificing sleep for a repeat climb up the steep mountain. Supposedly, it was nothing like the short trek we took to get here. We continued to sleep until the morning sun began to warm the insides of our tents.
Upon awakening, we heard and then saw a langur in the distance on the mountain where our friends had gone trekking. They looked massive, swinging from tree to tree in the far distance. The two who did get up and Arun were back within a few hours, thankfully unharmed by the swaying langur.
After a quick trip to the washroom and some perfectly made black tea, it was time for breakfast which again was homely and savoury.
The sun was blasting its rays upon us, and that is when you want to leave as soon as you can to avoid the heat, or you can go into town. Spend a while there before returning in the evening to enjoy another night in the same serenity.
We decided on the former. Everyone had plans for the day, and I had to drive another five hours from Cochin upon returning in the evening.
I was off to my maternal ancestral home in Calicut. Some Biriyani on the way back to Cochin had us all in much better spirits after a tiring night and day. The mountain air was refreshing enough to make sure my drive to Calicut had no difficulties.
It was not just the peaceful accommodation or the serene surroundings but the people involved that made it the perfect getaway. Though it was just one night, it seems enough for a while.
Arun runs his own trekking and camping company called DTrekMunnar and you can check him out on his Instagram ID, @d_trek_munnar.
NOTE: I did say it was a simple setup, except for the washrooms. They have built the toilets like any other adequate washroom you may find in a regular hotel in town. Arun says that it was essential to the entire spot being viable for what they do. One must keep this pristine area and its vicinity unblemished.
