Kerala Bhraman- Spices, Tea and Chocolates

To catch up on our first day in Munnar, climb up to the cottage and join us, in Kerala Bhraman- The Theater Of Tea Plants.


Morning in Munnar. The night before was a drowsy one which was filled with the constant groaning of the trees as the breeze loaded its branches. In the morning, outside, there was light. The floating tortoise (Gundumally) stood frozen at its place, gawking at the puny cottage people seeming amazed by the hills around them.

View from the cottage

“What’s so new about it?” It wondered in silence.

Definitely, nothing was new. We had seen the same green scarf clad hills the previous day and it had rained all day. It would probably rain today as well. But, we wanted to pour into ourselves, each and every bit of the beauty of Munnar, imagining that this is what heaven looks like. Heaven and the court of the gods.

The usual drapery of white clouds returned and it rained. We watched the rain drops tapping on the window panes while having tea. With the last sip, we removed the last bit of the last night’s sleep and asked the cook to serve breakfast.

We were going to try out Appam with chicken stew for breakfast and mama was sure that we would lick our fingers in the end.

Indeed we did. It took ten minutes barely to clean my plate of Appam. The light and succulent chicken stew had won our hearts and the recipe was immediately in demand.  
  

Appam and chicken stew

      

Outside, tea pickers in uniform walked on the shimmering road by the garden; the duty was on the verge of beginning. The tea gardens were so steep we wondered how the tea pickers kept themselves from tumbling. It was a tough job.

The park around the house was embellished by an array of flowers, all drenched and nodding with the rain. As if in staunch agreement to whatever was told to them.

Thekkady wouldn’t have been complete without its rainforest, Varkala wouldn’t have been complete without its picturesque beach and its fables, Munnar wouldn’t certainly be complete without the shops in the main city market selling tea and spices.

We had decided that we would visit the market that day. After our customary tour to our respective bathrooms, we were off in our white Innova.

As we descended the hill, my mother was intent on sighting elephants and stayed on her window seat, skimming through each shrub and garden we passed. The stark watchmen of the tea gardens didn’t flinch when the rain drops fell on them and stood still with their crescent branches stretched upwards.

Jishnu

Mama had called shotgun and was doing a better job than me; he wasn’t sleeping. In fact he wasn’t letting Jishnu (our driver) sleep either. He kept him awake with his constant questions about stuffs in Munnar and Kerala all together.

And when mama would go silent, Jishnu would put on his earphones and talk to someone on his phone. Constantly guffawing. Probably joking about the crazy family he was driving around Munnar.  

He joked on the phone while we joked among ourselves. Neither understanding the other’s language.

Mattupetty Dam

Before going to the market, we hit the Mattupetty Dam. We got down at the tourist market where they were selling fancy hats and umbrellas. It was drizzling as we walked to the bridge over the dam and looked at the lake below us. Several men and women had flocked at the bank and were waiting for their turn for boating, pouring the depths of the lake with their usual pouts and duck faces.

Men gave horse rides at the market. Boys wearing bandannas rode the buffy brown horses as the horse boy followed and the friends clicked pictures of their mate.

The day wanted some time alone with the lake and was utterly disappointed of the invasion of the tourists. The rain fell harder in response and people started running for cover.

We decided to move back as well. As far as pictures went, we had clicked to our fill.

The Kanan Devan Hills Plantation outlet was bustling with the daily crowd of tea and spice lovers. The walls of the shop were adorned with the glimpses from the past of the company; all black and white. Of course, none of the attention was focused on the stills. That was one side of the outlet. Completely barren save the pastry counter.

Life began abruptly on the other side. Families, friends, groups of tourists and localites had gathered at the long spice, tea, coffee and chocolate counter. Leaving little or no place for someone else to get in.

I was summoned to choose the chocolates which I would like to take back to Dehradun.

“What’s there to choose? Chocolates are chocolates!” I thought.

Inside the KDHP outlet

I would soon be proved wrong when the shopkeeper would place on the counter before me the following boxes- coffee chocolate, orange chocolate, tea chocolate, spicy chocolate, white chocolate, bitter chocolate and what not.  

The chocolates

  

After much introspection, I picked up the spicy one. It would be fun to watch the look on my friends’ faces when they would take a bite of those.

The shelves behind the shopkeepers were stuffed with all kinds of Munnar tea and coffee. Green tea, Oolong and lots more. 

After leaving the outlet, we stopped at a nearby shop to buy some homemade chocolate and chips for snacks. There was one shop that was selling tiny exotic wooden massaging devices apart from nuts, spices, chips and oils.

Once again, we drove up hill, braving the pebble like rain drops pelting on the windshield of the Innova. We had forgotten what sunlight felt like in Munnar.

Back in the holiday home, we had lunch and retired to the common room reading and snoring.

Mama and baba went on to play a game of carom in the adjoining library.

Munnar city

On the other end of the library was a door to another room. From behind the shut door came the constant guffawing of Jishnu and the butler and the cook.

Probably joking about the crazy family.

    

The clouds had shut the  house from the outside world. The trees bent due to the weight of the breeze and the creaking sound sent shivers down our spine.

There was no electricity but there was enough diffused sunlight in the room and it was pretty cool as well.

At night, the generator roared again and the tiny spot in the somber Munnar hills was incandescent.

Sleep lay upon us like a sheath and after dinner, we crept beneath the comforting blankets. Silently, sleep closed our eyes and we dropped into a deep rabbit hole.

Some time at night the generator stopped blaring and only the wind blew.

We didn’t do much the next day. It rained and it never stopped raining for the remainder of the day. 

Jishnu asked us if we wanted to go and watch a Kathakali dance performance in the city or a display of the popular Keralite martial art. But we declined and stayed up in the hill instead.

I peeped at Gundumally from the common room window when the clouds cleared for some time.

On that word-less day, in the quiet room, there was nothing to do to kill time. The book that I had brought with me turned out to be a total bore so I put it away and slipped into my usual reverie.

I saw myself floating in the sky, flying over the enormous green tortoise. Then over a temple and the tiny Lego dwellings before settling on a traipsing patch of cloud. From where I was, our cottage was a distant spot slowly getting behind the clouds. The lofty trees swaying like colossal fans fanning the throne of a cottage.

Such a fine sight! Should I ever return to myself, siting in the cottage’s common room; amidst the four walls?  

Or should I stay back and enjoy the view.

Alas, like all other thoughts this too vanished in a snap. “Not now brother!”

Of all the nights we had spent till now, the last nights were dreadful. Questions which hadn’t bothered us up till now popped up immediately.

“Why does time fly so fast?”

“Will we return to Munnar?”

“Do we really have to leave?”    

 Answers to which were truly unfathomable.

That night seemed much shorter. So much where we accustomed to the routinely blare of the generator, that we never noticed when did it stop. The only thing that came crashing back in a much eminent form was the orchestra of the night. It played a slow and a melancholic farewell song and dissolved into the darkness of the night just like every other time.