Snippets from the Nilgiris
Snippet 1
After a typical pedal boat ride across the crowded lake, swerving left and right to avoid honeymooners and raucous tourists on their boats...we got off and gingerly headed towards the amusement park style rides surrounding the lake area. Much to my delight my trip-partner was as much a rides enthusiast as I was and we promptly bought tickets and got onto the Tora Tora ride.
The ride operator fellow advised that we sit on separate booths and locked us in. We were the only two people on the ride. The view from there was quite pretty but the speed and pattern in which the ride was whirling around allowed for only screaming and gasped expressions of pain as we were plastered to the sides of our respective seats. It was hilarious and painful....my ribs were hurting from too much pressure and my stomach from laughing too much. Just when we were screaming to each other that enough was enough the ride stopped.
Even though we were nearly reeling from the experience....my co passenger requested that the ride operator click some pictures of us in that state of giddy exhaustion!
Snippet 2
It was pouring with rain outside, threatening to put a dampener on our plans of going to my friend's residential school for a visit. We were ensconced in a tiny little cafe part of which functioned as The Bookworm Library, a cozy place with book-lined shelves stacked with delightful novels. My friend assured me that she had spent many an afternoon here with books and cigarettes so all my hopes were dashed when the owner sadly shook his head and told us that smoking had been banned there.
Apparently the cafe had gotten into a lot of trouble as young people often would dope there and therefore to be cautious now even smokers were not welcome.
The food was nice and the staff polite but of course the main attractions were the books! :)
Snippet 3
I became an observer fading into the shadows as my friend walked into her school. It was set on the hills....a huge imposing structure replete with clock tower and paddocks for horses, football fields and science labs. The children, at least the few who came and gushed at the ex-head girl, all had impeccable English and no perceivable accents. The teachers who were very happy to see her were also warm and caring.
It transported me back into her past to see the very same dorms where she had spent her days and nights....the lanes she had walked....the dining hall with gleaming crockery where she had had her meals. It is surprising how much viewing a background first hand tells you about an individual's personality. I feel so much nearer to her now than before.
Snippet 4
Walking to the Pykara dam we met a good looking dog on the wayside who was busy chewing on something before he spied us. A common pie-dog he was but the moment I made eye contact with him he knew we were nice people whom he would like to accompany.
So away he ran right in front of us....he would lead the way...stop....turn behind and gesticulate as if to ask us to hurry. We were quite happy too, to have 'a male escort' of his nature. Once we neared the main road his ears flopped down and he looked wary of the cars and the noise so to defer to his judgement we turned back towards our accommodations and he was only to happy to go frisking back to his known spot. As a keepsake of this unexpected guided tour I took a quick photograph of him for which he posed charmingly.
Snippet 5
In a crowded bus with the villagers coming back from the village of Pykara to Ooty town on a Sunday morning, we were literally tottering on our legs every time the bus maneuvered a particularly tricky hairpin bend. All our luggage was with us and the paucity of space was quite acute. The stench of country liquor on the breath of many a fellow passenger made me feel quite sick.
What made the journey bearable were the view of the tea estates and the energetic Tamil music blaring in the bus. I do not understand one word of the language but the tunes were so catchy and the beats were so lively that I found myself seamlessly blending the sights and the sound. At one point I even caught myself grinning as many passengers started keeping beat with their hands and feet to a particularly racy song. Beyond language, beyond class or culture....it was a musical moment right there!
Snippet 6
At my friend's aunt's home in Conoor over dinner I disappeared again. All ears I listened to her recounting the state of all the nearby estate owners and their wives and families. There was a particularly old lady who had recently lost her estranged daughter to cancer. She could not even abide a 'how are you' from the neighbours and would shout back at them throwing her misfortune at their faces.
There was this other lady, wife of a naval engineer, who wore track pants and jeans all the year round but would glam up herself...getting her hair dyed and appearing only in tasteful sarees when her husband came back to the hills from the sea.
Yet another crotchety old widow had had her son recently married to an NRI girl and the hills were abuzz as to how she did not bend even an iota to the mother in law's will. The new bride had been caught greeting guests at home in shorts and that was just not acceptable now....was it?
Listening to the endless stream of stories I found myself thinking that there was enough fodder there to write a book. Life in the Nilgiris....
After a typical pedal boat ride across the crowded lake, swerving left and right to avoid honeymooners and raucous tourists on their boats...we got off and gingerly headed towards the amusement park style rides surrounding the lake area. Much to my delight my trip-partner was as much a rides enthusiast as I was and we promptly bought tickets and got onto the Tora Tora ride.
The ride operator fellow advised that we sit on separate booths and locked us in. We were the only two people on the ride. The view from there was quite pretty but the speed and pattern in which the ride was whirling around allowed for only screaming and gasped expressions of pain as we were plastered to the sides of our respective seats. It was hilarious and painful....my ribs were hurting from too much pressure and my stomach from laughing too much. Just when we were screaming to each other that enough was enough the ride stopped.
Even though we were nearly reeling from the experience....my co passenger requested that the ride operator click some pictures of us in that state of giddy exhaustion!
Snippet 2
It was pouring with rain outside, threatening to put a dampener on our plans of going to my friend's residential school for a visit. We were ensconced in a tiny little cafe part of which functioned as The Bookworm Library, a cozy place with book-lined shelves stacked with delightful novels. My friend assured me that she had spent many an afternoon here with books and cigarettes so all my hopes were dashed when the owner sadly shook his head and told us that smoking had been banned there.
Apparently the cafe had gotten into a lot of trouble as young people often would dope there and therefore to be cautious now even smokers were not welcome.
The food was nice and the staff polite but of course the main attractions were the books! :)
Snippet 3
I became an observer fading into the shadows as my friend walked into her school. It was set on the hills....a huge imposing structure replete with clock tower and paddocks for horses, football fields and science labs. The children, at least the few who came and gushed at the ex-head girl, all had impeccable English and no perceivable accents. The teachers who were very happy to see her were also warm and caring.
It transported me back into her past to see the very same dorms where she had spent her days and nights....the lanes she had walked....the dining hall with gleaming crockery where she had had her meals. It is surprising how much viewing a background first hand tells you about an individual's personality. I feel so much nearer to her now than before.
Snippet 4
Walking to the Pykara dam we met a good looking dog on the wayside who was busy chewing on something before he spied us. A common pie-dog he was but the moment I made eye contact with him he knew we were nice people whom he would like to accompany.
So away he ran right in front of us....he would lead the way...stop....turn behind and gesticulate as if to ask us to hurry. We were quite happy too, to have 'a male escort' of his nature. Once we neared the main road his ears flopped down and he looked wary of the cars and the noise so to defer to his judgement we turned back towards our accommodations and he was only to happy to go frisking back to his known spot. As a keepsake of this unexpected guided tour I took a quick photograph of him for which he posed charmingly.
Snippet 5
In a crowded bus with the villagers coming back from the village of Pykara to Ooty town on a Sunday morning, we were literally tottering on our legs every time the bus maneuvered a particularly tricky hairpin bend. All our luggage was with us and the paucity of space was quite acute. The stench of country liquor on the breath of many a fellow passenger made me feel quite sick.
What made the journey bearable were the view of the tea estates and the energetic Tamil music blaring in the bus. I do not understand one word of the language but the tunes were so catchy and the beats were so lively that I found myself seamlessly blending the sights and the sound. At one point I even caught myself grinning as many passengers started keeping beat with their hands and feet to a particularly racy song. Beyond language, beyond class or culture....it was a musical moment right there!
Snippet 6
At my friend's aunt's home in Conoor over dinner I disappeared again. All ears I listened to her recounting the state of all the nearby estate owners and their wives and families. There was a particularly old lady who had recently lost her estranged daughter to cancer. She could not even abide a 'how are you' from the neighbours and would shout back at them throwing her misfortune at their faces.
There was this other lady, wife of a naval engineer, who wore track pants and jeans all the year round but would glam up herself...getting her hair dyed and appearing only in tasteful sarees when her husband came back to the hills from the sea.
Yet another crotchety old widow had had her son recently married to an NRI girl and the hills were abuzz as to how she did not bend even an iota to the mother in law's will. The new bride had been caught greeting guests at home in shorts and that was just not acceptable now....was it?
Listening to the endless stream of stories I found myself thinking that there was enough fodder there to write a book. Life in the Nilgiris....
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