Ooty is romantic. It seduces the heart. Some snatches of memories came alive in the hills and tea gardens for I had a more from scenes in th...
Ooty is romantic. It seduces the heart. Some snatches of memories came alive in the hills and tea gardens for I had a more from scenes in the Bollywood movies where the hero romanced his delicate love. Ooty is remarkably sprightly. It has a pulse of its own and guided solely by the cool air that lures thousands of visitors to its blue lap.
Why do mules walk on the roads? This is a question every tourist to Ootys asks, without the slightest reference to cows, dogs, goats and other animals sharing the same space. As a traveler, I seek answers. Mules walk on roads for there is nowhere else to walk and they are very noticeable because they do not respect even with the air-horn in full blast. And I say the best way to avoid running into a mule in Ooty is to let him have his way.
At first it was funny to see the stubborn beasts parked on the centre of the roads wuite content with their mulish manner but when a harmless auto nearly toppled while trying to balance his unsteady three-wheeler on the edge of the pieces of road a mule carelessly walked past and I swear I saw him giving the auto a slight push. I have kept away from mules since.
Ooty, a beautiful hill station perched around a plateau high in the Nilgiri Mountains, horses and donkeys (and hence the mules) keep a respectful distance from people. Did I mention the monkeys, geese and ducks yet? It is them that made my journey to this marvelous hill station unforgettable. (Every time I see my picture album, a mule’s smiling face or a geese pecking at my ankles appears. Don’t ask me how it got there).
But that is Ooty. From Mysore, sturdy, ancient buses drag you up the bluish hills via Masinagudi (replica of a Texan countryside minus the cowboys) through a nine hour journey. You can get off anywhere you like and lose yourself in the forest, but that option has few takers. So people hold on to their seats and stare into the thick forests hoping to catch a glimpse of the elephants, deer, sambar, little wild pigs (remember Obelix?), vain peacocks and other feathered fiends. Sometimes they do.
It is a different story once you reach Kalahatti after 32 tightly wound hairpin bends. Here begins a different kind of visual treat. Borders of three Indian states meet near here and agree to live peacefully, content to watch the rolling landscape of hills, forests, tea gardens and grasslands all enveloped in a warm, tangy aroma of eucalyptus.
The Blue Mountain Express is the slowest train I have traveled on. This Pull-Push train is so slow that you can hop off at the numerous stations (Love Dale being the best of all), have a leisurely cup of tea and yet clamber back on without hurry. But what was the hurry anyway? Women plucked tea leaves in miles of tea-gardens and stopped to wave at the train as it crawled by. Conoor was just as beautiful as Ooty and well-known for it’s ‘old schools’ and churches. The hills are another matter altogether. Conoor also has a ‘Hotel Blue Hills’ where I spent the night hoping my meager luggage in its namesake hotel 17 km uphill at Ooty was safe
Nilgiris were a trekker’s paradise. There are treks and treks in whichever direction you turn and from whichever point you start, varying only in distance and altitudes. That is how I discovered Snowdon and Ketty Valley. What more could I ask for? The numerous tea plantations bore romantic names on old boards stuck across the trees, maybe after the English owners who left long ago.
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