Snippets from Kanyakumari
Snippet 1
After an almost tearful goodbye at the bus station I was off on my first ever overnight bus journey alone to Nagercoil. The berth was comfortable and I caught forty winks on and off amidst the Tamil chatter of my fellow passengers. They say that the sleep one gets around dawn is the deepest and most restorative and I was in the middle of that very activity when the bus jolted to a halt and people started disembarking with as much noise as they could possibly make. I awoke with a start and ruefully discovered that at 5:50 a.m. I had reached my destination. It was pitch dark outside and quite chilly to boot when I got off and made my bleary-eyed way to the nearby government bus station. Fortunately it took me all of 5 minutes to be seated comfortably on a bus to Kanyakumari. Through the process of sweeping away the last cobwebs of sleep, I witnessed dawn on a green landscape through which the bus sped. The scenery was shrouded in lush greenery - swaying coconut palms and numerous plantain trees. On and off the landscape was set into relief by cliffs and hillocks of burnt sienna and viridian. I nearly cheered aloud when I glimpsed the ocean marking the end of the short bus ride.
Snippet 2
The hired car sped along through much the same landscape as I had seen on my way en route. The driver pointed out the Medicine Mountain which was fabled to be a piece from the huge hill that Lord Hanuman carried in one hand as he flew through the skies to save Lakshmana from sure death in the Ramayana.
He also mentioned the point at which we crossed over from Tamil Nadu into the state of Kerala where he promptly drove us to a secluded coconut palm-shaded creek which led to the backwaters.It was a hot afternoon with the sun beating down but the trees gave a thick dense shade and there were hammock strung here and there. The only sounds were of the wind swishing through the palm fronds, the mild chirping of birds and the water lapping the sides of the boats that were moored on the banks. We stayed awhile, declined the exorbitantly priced boat ride and breathed in the place.
Snippet 3
Indians have this habit of wanting to leave their imprint on any scenic place they go to. This accounts for all the chalk written love messages scribbled on our monuments and heritage sites and the multitude of plastic wrappers and other trash that litters the riverbanks and beaches. The waterfall we next visited was no exception. One had to try complex and innovative camera angles to get even a single shot that was unspoiled by other tourists' imprints. Also the fact that a number of semi nude men were bathing incessantly underneath the waterfall did not help the cause of good photography. So much for a peaceful visit to the waterfalls!
Snippet 4
What made my day and the entire trip worthwhile was the hanging bridge. Contrary to the expectations that the name evokes, it had numerous thick pillars supporting it and was so narrow that one had to politely turn sideways in order to let another human pass alongside. What was utterly spellbinding was the view below. On the one side were acres and acres of plantain trees, gently swaying in the afternoon breeze in a lazy rhythm. On the other a little brook, framed with even more verdant green, broke through the boulders and meandered on. It reminded me strongly of the watering hole in Kipling's Jungle Book where Mowgli first met the village girl filling her clay pot and where Sher Khan, the mighty tiger came to quench his thirst.
After an almost tearful goodbye at the bus station I was off on my first ever overnight bus journey alone to Nagercoil. The berth was comfortable and I caught forty winks on and off amidst the Tamil chatter of my fellow passengers. They say that the sleep one gets around dawn is the deepest and most restorative and I was in the middle of that very activity when the bus jolted to a halt and people started disembarking with as much noise as they could possibly make. I awoke with a start and ruefully discovered that at 5:50 a.m. I had reached my destination. It was pitch dark outside and quite chilly to boot when I got off and made my bleary-eyed way to the nearby government bus station. Fortunately it took me all of 5 minutes to be seated comfortably on a bus to Kanyakumari. Through the process of sweeping away the last cobwebs of sleep, I witnessed dawn on a green landscape through which the bus sped. The scenery was shrouded in lush greenery - swaying coconut palms and numerous plantain trees. On and off the landscape was set into relief by cliffs and hillocks of burnt sienna and viridian. I nearly cheered aloud when I glimpsed the ocean marking the end of the short bus ride.
Snippet 2
The hired car sped along through much the same landscape as I had seen on my way en route. The driver pointed out the Medicine Mountain which was fabled to be a piece from the huge hill that Lord Hanuman carried in one hand as he flew through the skies to save Lakshmana from sure death in the Ramayana.
He also mentioned the point at which we crossed over from Tamil Nadu into the state of Kerala where he promptly drove us to a secluded coconut palm-shaded creek which led to the backwaters.It was a hot afternoon with the sun beating down but the trees gave a thick dense shade and there were hammock strung here and there. The only sounds were of the wind swishing through the palm fronds, the mild chirping of birds and the water lapping the sides of the boats that were moored on the banks. We stayed awhile, declined the exorbitantly priced boat ride and breathed in the place.
Snippet 3
Indians have this habit of wanting to leave their imprint on any scenic place they go to. This accounts for all the chalk written love messages scribbled on our monuments and heritage sites and the multitude of plastic wrappers and other trash that litters the riverbanks and beaches. The waterfall we next visited was no exception. One had to try complex and innovative camera angles to get even a single shot that was unspoiled by other tourists' imprints. Also the fact that a number of semi nude men were bathing incessantly underneath the waterfall did not help the cause of good photography. So much for a peaceful visit to the waterfalls!
Snippet 4
What made my day and the entire trip worthwhile was the hanging bridge. Contrary to the expectations that the name evokes, it had numerous thick pillars supporting it and was so narrow that one had to politely turn sideways in order to let another human pass alongside. What was utterly spellbinding was the view below. On the one side were acres and acres of plantain trees, gently swaying in the afternoon breeze in a lazy rhythm. On the other a little brook, framed with even more verdant green, broke through the boulders and meandered on. It reminded me strongly of the watering hole in Kipling's Jungle Book where Mowgli first met the village girl filling her clay pot and where Sher Khan, the mighty tiger came to quench his thirst.
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