I was gazing at the reflection of the dome in the waters when the temple bells shook me out of my reverie. It has now become a habit with me. Almost at every portal of a temple, I stop by to hear sagas of intrigue and passion and tales of Gods and demons. I often lose myself in these myths that lend an air of mystery to these monuments. A haunting tale , I believe echoes from the silent walls . But I wasn’t prepared for this story.  “ This temple was built because of a ghost ! “exclaimed my driver a while ago as he pulled into the parking lot of the Omkareshwar temple.

It was dusk in Madikeri and there was a slight nip in the air .” You mean, its haunted ? “ I asked giving him a quizzical  look and looking up at the domes of this early 19^th century temple built in the Indo sarcenic style. The lights came on giving it an ethereal feel as the reflections danced in the waters of the tank below. I felt a slight shiver although I dismissed the ghost story and went right in.

The temple dedicated to Lord Shiva , however did resonate with a tale of a king haunted by a ghost . It was the early 19^th century, when Coorg was ruled by the Haleri king Lingaranjendra, whom the history books paint as a tyrant. Violent, whimsical and with an eye for women, the king hardly fought wars during his reign. Instead he hunted tigers and women with equal vigor and was known to have a veritable zoo in his court and an ever increasing harem.

Our story starts one summer morning when a poor Brahmin comes to Madikeri with the intention of giving his daughter away to the Raja’s harem, as he was unable to take care of her. He however changed his mind and left Madikeri after listening to stories about the king from Subarasaiah, another Brahmin who lived in the town. When the king heard about the incident, he  mercilessly beheaded Subarasaiah’s sons besides slaughtering the Brahmin as well.

Lingarajendra went to sleep that night only to be woken up by Subarasaiah staring at him .The visits continued as the king became distraught as the spirit hovered around him.  The dead Brahmin had become a demon or a Brahma Rashasa . Tantriks finally advised the king  to build a Shiva temple  and bring a linga from Varanasi to appease the demon . The king however did not recover fully and died within a year.

The temple built in IndoSarcenic style has domes and turrets and overlooks a beautiful pond with a mandapa in the middle. A light they say perpetually glows from the sanctum. Even today, I hear, the spirit of the demon roams freely in the sacred grove within the temple premises where the Brahma Rakshasa resides.

The starry night sky reflected in the waters as I left the temple. The story left me wondering why mortals sometime behave more like demons.

This story was published in The Hindu as a part of the author’s column, Inside Story.

Club Mahindra’s resort at Coorg is located near Madikeri and is an absolute  birding paradise and looks right out of a tropical rain forest. The luxuriant greenery is a perfect haven for birds. The botanical garden, the dense canopy of fruiting and flowering trees, small plantations of cardamom , coffee and pepper takes you into an entirely different wrld. Stay with us  at Coorg and open your doors to nature.

It was probably five in the morning when I woke up to the call of the wild. As my eyes accustomed to the darkness around me, I had the peacock calling , in a persuasive tone, almost pleading with me to wake up. I opened the door and stepped out. It was dark and the moon was in no mood to let go of the sky. Drenched in its light, I saw the bamboo groves standing still . No sign of the peacock though, although its continuous calls echoed through the Nilgiri mountains and reached me at the Club Mahindra resort in Masinagudi. It was probably more than a couple of hours later that I managed to get a glimpse of it, as it gracefully walked around the resort.

Wake up call from the peacock – Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Finally it took more than a couple of hours for the sun to displace the moon . The birds that greeted me immediately were the spotted dove and a magpie robin . Sipping water were  the red whiskered bulbul and a flock of noisy seven sisters – the jungle babblers.

A spotted dove looks on – Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Flitting in the leaves – a magpie robin ; Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Mind if I drink some water asks the Red whiskered bulbul .Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Jungle babblers quenching their thirst – Pic “: Lakshmi Sharath

I looked at the dense canopy of bamboo and spotted a tickell’s blue flycatcher basking in the morning light. I had repeated sightings of the bird almost throughout the morning session.

Sightings of the Tickells Blue during the day – Pics : Lakshmi Sharath

Then came the great tit but it flew away , distracted . Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Soon we joined the manager, Atul and a group of enthusiastic guests from Mumbai who were birding for the first time. While most of them were senior citizens, their excitement at sighting a new bird was similar to a school boy who was gifted a candy.

Looking down at the photographer – Malabar parakeet . Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

An iora looks on – Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

The enthusiasm and energy was infectious as we sighted several birds – the malabar parakeet, the brahminy starling, the common iora, a grey wagtail, the jungle fowl  among others.

Standing still – A Brahminy starling

Standing right on the way – a grey wagtail . Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Jungle fowl in the wilds – Pic : lakshmi sharath

We walked towards a dry stream and the not so common kingfisher was waiting for its breakfast in those little puddles of water.

Looking away – A common kingfisher . Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

We  walked a bit further and the remaining guests left us while Atul and I sat on the rocks and looked around.

Chased away : An orange headed ground thrush . Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

We saw a orange headed ground thrush being chased by a small bird which turned out to be the Indian pitta. Excited and happy to see it at eye level, I sat on a rock and watched it. It seemed oblivious to me, busy chasing the thrush as it surveyed the scene.

This is my turf says the Indian Pitta . Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

I dont know if the bird saw me or not, but it seemed perfectly at peace. Nothing like observing a bird with your own eyes – no camera lens or even a binoculars was required to watch its behaviour. It hopped from rock to rock, walking around in the greenery, with its brilliant colours merging with the scenery around.

I watched it for a while, until an excited Atul pointed a male paradise fly catcher perched above me , camouflaged well in the leaves. Only its long white tail fluttered around as we saw it fly into another tree. Soon it was followed by the rufous tailed paradise flycatcher and the female bird , without the long bird. We watched them for a while as they remained hidden amidst the leaves. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, we managed to tear ourselves from the stream. As we walked back, we saw the pitta still out in the open, walking around and chasing the orange headed ground thrush . And what a morning it has been in the company of the pitta, the peacock and the paradise flycatcher .

Look at me and my colours – the Indian Pitta . Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Casa Deep Woods in Masinagudi almost feels like the continuation of the forest, with bamboo trees and dense foliage surrounding your rooms. While the birds greet you in the morning, you often see a herd of deer drinking water from the stream behind. This property is a haven for birds. Just a walk in the morning and one can see a myriad range of colours flitting through the woods. Come here for a weekend and refresh yourself in the company of nature.

It feels like an evergreen rainforest the moment you enter the portals of the Club Mahindra resort in Coorg. The sun ‘ s rays squint through the dense canopy of trees as the trees shelter you from the afternoon heat . It is late afternoon and the birds are calling . You catch a sight of a wing here and there as they flit around the bushes . The coffee blossoms are in bloom and the botanical garden is in bloom. I grab a quick lunch and head out into the verdant greenery around with a pair of binoculars and a camera in tow.

Robusta flowers in blossom . Pic – Lakshmi Sharath

The sun birds and the flower peckers tease me with their energy as they play hide and seek with me. I try hard to get them to sit still but they refuse to pose for me. The red whiskered bulbul however is more obliging, although it gives me just a few seconds to take a picture.

A red whiskered bulbul looks on. Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Suddenly the skies darken and there is a shower. The birds take refuge in the leaves and we can hardly spot them. The rainforest is however full of surprises. I see a common crow with a snake in its mouth but am distracted by a yellow browed bulbul flying past me with a cicada in its beak.. We try hard to take a picture but the bird refuses to show itself. However a velvet fronted nuthatch stops for a while as it climbs a tree.

On my way up – The velvet fronted nuthatch. Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

The skies get darker and the impending rains stop the birding activity and we cheer ourselves by walking in the garden and admiring the flowers. Nevertheless we see some activity as a brown shrike surveys the scene.

A brown shrike looks for its meal. Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

We decide to head out to a small lake , located barely half a kilometre outside the resort and the birdlife does not disappoint us there.

A pied wagtail in the lake. Pic: Lakshmi Sharath

An egret in flight – Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

We see egrets, wagtails, sandpipers, cormorants, kingfisher, swallows and an ibis as well. The rains however come tumbling down as we return to the resort.

A sandpiper basks in the evening sun. Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Morning however seems more promising although it is still dark and cloudy. I am woken up by a whistle ; the school boy is on my balcony. I jump out of the bed and rush out , but the malabar whistling thrush , often referred to as the schoolboy for his whistling song jumps on to the branch of the tree and all I see is his silhouette. It is still dark out there and the dense canopy makes it look even darker.

Good morning says the lorikeet or hanging parrot. Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

We head out towards the Adventure Valley and are greeted by the malabar parakeets, the lorikeet , and the copper smith barbet.

Wake up people says the malabar parakeet. Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

A yellow browed bulbul perches for a couple of seconds and flies away followed by a golden oriole. We spot the racket tailed drongo, the rufous treepie and even a malabar grey hornbill whose silhouette was all that I managed to photograph.But the vibrantly coloured blue capped rock thrush was hiding amidst the leaves and didnt seem to mind me around.

Off to look for breakfast says the blue capped rock thrush . Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

We walked back to the reception and who should be waiting there , but for the brilliant blue and shining malabar whistling thrush, right out in the open , spending a good fifteen minutes foraging around , looking for food.

Foraging for breakfast – Malabar whistling thrush . Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

I wait patiently for it to have its breakfast and then head towards mine.The sky darkens again and my birding session ends, but for me the bird of the day remains the school boy.

Whats out there asks the malabar whistling thrush . Pic : Lakshmi Sharath

Club Mahindra’s resort at Coorg is located near Madikeri and is an absolute  birding paradise and looks right out of a tropical rain forest. The luxuriant greenery is a perfect haven for birds. The botanical garden, the dense canopy of fruiting and flowering trees, small plantations of cardamom , coffee and pepper takes you into an entirely different wrld. Stay with us  at Coorg and open your doors to nature.

Imagine this . A blue sky, a sandy beach, a river and an estuary , a lost island, a stretch of coconut trees, a lone boat and the blue-green backwaters with plenty of birds and fish. As for people, there is just the boatman and us . This is Poovar for you, lost somewhere near the tip of South India, tucked in Gods own country , Kerala .

It was a lazy Saturday morning and we were in Tiruvanthapuram or Trivandrum staring endlessly at the beaches in Kovalam . Unlike most capital cities, this quiet nonchalant town-city has a certain charm that makes you linger and lose youself . .My reverie was interrupted as voices emerged from the sea . A long line of fishermen immediately queued up and tugged at a thick neverending rope , pulling their booty from the sea.

We were in Kovalam at the beach , sipping a tender coconut when the vendor asked us if we had been to Poovar . I recollected travel packages promoting Poovar , images of floating cottages and a couple of resorts vying for attention . We were not the typical beach bums , so we were willing to tear ourselves away from the sunny shores and look for newer shores. We went driving , in search of a coastal hamlet called Poovar along the River Neyyar . The drive is not just beautiful, but it takes you into the heart of rustic India. A little bustle here and there, a few shops convert a sleepy village into a market. The smell of the fish was everywhere – we took a detour and came to a jetty which only allowed tourists who were staying in the resorts ..We managed to talk the boatman into taking us for a little ride on the backwaters . And we discovered not just an idyllic island, but an interesting chunk of history as well.

We learnt that Poovar was a trading center of timber, sandlewood, ivory and spices. It is believed that the trading ships of King Solomon landed in a port called ‘Ophir’, which is probably today’s Poovar.’ As we waltzed down the backwaters, our boatman regaled us with this story . I was quite surprised to read that Poovar had a royal connection as well and it owed its name to a king . It was in this tiny hamlet , then a rich trading centre, that Raja Marthanda Varma , the legendary 18th century king of Travancore had sought refuge . The story goes that Ettuveetil Pillamar, had proclaimed Marthanda Varma as his successor and the former’s sons declared war.

The Maharaja had to flee from his land and he landed in Poovar with the help of one Moosa Marikar, a merchant who also helped him regain power . The Raja was fascinated by the sight of red flowers, chipped out from the Kovala trees growing along the Neyyar river , which floated in the river as a red carpet on water. The legend is that the stream was named as “POOVAR”( meaning a stream of flowers) ,as the Raja described the river .

There were a few boats dotting the landscape ..but besides that, all we could see was just the azure waters and the blue sky . The coconut trees stretched out, kissing the waters here and there, as we sailed ..Until we saw two horizons ..one separating the sky from the sea, the other – a sandy beach separating the sea from the backwaters . The estuary here connects to the sea during high tides . I looked at the vast expanse of waters called sea, river, backwaters , estuary and wondered if there was anything so simple and yet so beautiful in life ! This is probably what they call happiness !

If you would like to experience a bit of this bliss, do spend a few days at the Poovar Island Resort from Club Mahindra’s bouquet of resorts .  The floating cottages will just lull your senses transporting you into a world of your own

Almost every hill station in India – be it Shimla  or Darjeeling tell the same story. Lush and plentiful in summer with snow kissed conifers carpeted on their slopes in winters, these towns have been plucked   out of nature by the British. The quaint names, a sleepy railway station, an ancient church , a club and the palatial bungalows are all reminiscent of the old world charm.

If you take a leisurely walk down the malls and markets of these towns, they still smack of the colonial legacy. These hill stations were dubbed the summer capitals of the Britishers who lorded over them for several  years. And yet, one little hill station stands apart from the rest, defying the colonial hangover . It owes its existence on the political and tourist maps to an Indian ruler who made it his summer capital. This is the story of Chail , a town barely 45 kms from Shimla in Himachal Pradesh .

Located at a higher altitude than Shimla, the story goes that the Maharaja Bhupinder Singh of Patiala made Chail his summer capital when the British barred him from entering  Shimla. Although the conflict was not on military grounds, the story goes that the Maharaja was romancing a daughter of Lord Kitchener, who was then the Commander in Chief of the British army. The Maharaja decided to give the British a fitting reply and went on to create his own summer capital in Chail.  He first built a palace near Khandaghat  called Chail View Palace and then  built a road to Chail and finally his own summer retreat in this little town surrounded by deodar forests. Ironically Chail itself had been gifted to the Maharaja by the Britishers earlier .

The Maharaja was an avid cricketer and had captained many an Indian team besides playing several first class matches himself .  He left Chail a trophy – a cricket ground which has the highest ever pitch located at 2140 metres and it doubled up as a polo ground as well.

Like many Indian towns , Chail has its own share of myths and legends. We visited a temple dedicated to a saint, Sidh Baba built on a hillock by the king. The locals believe that the king had planned to build his palace here earlier , but the seer had visited him in his dream and asked him to choose another location.

Nevertheless, the Maharaja couldn’t have found a better place to create his summer capital. With the Himalayas in the background and the valley beneath,  the river flowing down and three dense hillocks covered with deodar forests, Chail looked every bit a royal capital. The lights of Shimla and Kasauli came up  as I stood there for awhile watching the sun went down. Chail had indeed come a long way from an idyllic hamlet to a royal seat and now a tourist resort .

This story was published in The Hindu , as part of the author’s column, Inside Story

Club Mahindra has a lovely resort in Mashobra , near Shimla and the author was invited to the property as part of a blogger’s trip

CLAY wishes all its readers, members, travel writers and bloggers a very happy and prosperous new year. Here is wishing all of you exciting travels in 2012.

We begin this new year with a  sunrise in The Himalayas , as seen from our resort in Mashobra, near Shimla .

Our journey into Coorg’s heritage takes us on a spiritual quest – atop mountains, inside forests and coffee estates and by the river side.  These are temples etched in the cultural landscape of the Kodavas, although some of them will never find mention in any religious texts.

It is misty as we climb a small hilltop to the Padi Iguthuppa temple in Kakkabe. The bells start ringing the moment we enter the temple , as a gentle breeze blows from the rolling hills around. A group of Kodava women enter and speak with the priest Kush Bhat who welcomes us and insists that we stay over for lunch. “ No one comes to the Iguthuppa temple and goes away without eating lunch ,” he says. He explains that Iguthappa means giver of food and the deity is a form of Subramanya or Muruga, son of Shiva

“Close your eyes and ask Iguthappa whatever you want ..If you have faith, you will get the same,” says Kush Bhatt adding that centuries ago, Shiva and Subramanya came here and loved the hills so much that they decided to settle down here . The temple is known to feed anyone who comes here and all pilgrims offer food, not money to the deity . “Iguthappa told the people of Coorg that you will never go hungry as long as Im here and if you accept me as your God, ” explains Kush Bhatt. Some call him a saint, some say he is one of the four brothers who settled in the hills around the area. But despite the legends, every festival of the Kodavas starts with the invocation of Iguthappa and the  most important festival of the temple is Tulabharam .

We go to the another Iguthappa temple in Naljee, inside a forest through a lush coffee plantation . There is not a soul around and it is peaceful just listening to the sounds of the forest. These monuments are probably lost to the average tourist , but as a traveler, I realize that one finds sanctity in the silence around them

Club Mahindra has a wonderful resort in Coorg and make sure you get an experience of mystical Coorg when you visit them next

It is four in the morning and the eyes are still getting used to the darkness around . An icy breeze tugs at you, awakening the silent waters of the River Kosi flowing through the Club Mahindra resort. Standing on the banks of the river, I watch the moonlit ridges of the mountains, towering above, almost touching the jeweled sky. While some of my fellow travelers are star gazing, a few are attempting night photography. I , for one am just lost in the silence.

The summons arrive on the mobile and we are hurriedly on our way to keep up our date with the tiger in the forests of Corbett . It is our second attempt out there to meet the most coveted denizen of the jungle, having spent an entire day in the wilds . But the tiger probably was aware that almost 20 vehicles would be entering through the Jhirna zone for a rendezvous. So it left us high and dry, leaving behind its pugmarks as we saw several jeeps bringing in all types of tourists including international students who would break into a jig at the very sight of even a deer. We did see several birds, butterflies and smaller mammals, but for the “tiger tourists”, the sightings were just not enough.

Today , however as we board our jeeps, there is a feeling of hope. It is an auspicious moment, as the Bijrani Gate of the Jim Corbett National Park is to be opened  today ,months after the monsoons. The other gates, am told are still closed.

As we drive away in the darkness, hoping for an encounter,  we have no idea  what is in store for us .The experience begins at the government office in Ramnagar.. A couple of members from our group are already waiting there for the last hour to get the requisite permits and documents for the safari. I am told it’s a bit of luck and some push here and there. Then we see the never ending queue for the permits. And that is when I learn a bit about the trappings of tiger tourism . We wait there for what seems like hours.

Finally there are smiles all around as we make our way to the gate. And then the never ending wait begins as another 20 odd jeeps queue up around. Dawn breaks and the sunlight filters as restlessness sets in. The drivers exchange notes and the topic of discussion veers around the recent strike by the forest guides who are demanding more rights. “In fact “says my driver “the opening of the gates was postponed by a few days because of the strike. “  I ask him why we are still waiting and he says some officials have to come.  We laugh wondering if there is some form of an opening ceremony and to my surprise, a television crew lands . The interviews with the officials are on ; the cameraman takes some footage of us , sleepy eyed and hungry waiting to enter the national park . And finally after more teas and pakodas, the green signal is given and after almost a couple of hours wait,  we enter the national park

The sunlight filters through the tall sal trees as we drive along the safari route of this deciduous forests, squinting through the dense foliage . The naturalist in our group Karthikeyan Srinivasan keeps us engaged , spotting birds , spiders and small mammals.  . Corbett he says has about 600 species of birds, of the 1200 recorded in India. We spot a mongoose , while our friends see the rare yellow throated marten ,besides langurs and deer . But then the tiger, probably having spotted the jeep load of tourists, has again moved on , leaving its footprints on the sands of time. As we head back, the birders in our group are happy , but the tiger tourists are a tad disappointed .

As for me, Corbett is more to do with the man,  Jim Corbett himself than about the tigers he hunted .Corbett National Park, the oldest in India was earlier known as Hailey National Park before it took the name of the famous naturalist, author of several books. And having grown up on his “Man eaters of Kumaon,” I saw the villages and the forests vividly in front of my eyes, as I had imagined while reading the book.

My favourite memory of Corbett is visiting his house, now a museum in Kaladhungi,  walking around it, looking at the paintings and imagining him being on call from villagers when a man-eater struck in their hamlets. And as I walk away , his words remain in my mind .. “A tiger is a large-hearted gentleman with boundless courage and that when he is exterminated – as exterminated he will be unless public opinion rallies to his support – India will be the poorer by having lost the finest of her fauna. “

However, I am sure,  I will get a glimpse of  this “large hearted gentleman “someday in the forests .

This story was published in The Hindu Metro Plus as a part of the author’s column, Inside Story. The author was part of the Bloggers’ Meet in Corbett. For details regarding the resort, please visit here

CLAY wishes all its readers a Happy Ganesh Chaturthi .  The spirit of the festival can be experienced on the streets as people queue up to bring home the Ganesha. A finishing touch is applied here and there as some of the Ganeshas are covered in plastic sheets,waiting for their turn to be sold. Lining up the streets of  Bangalore and watching the traffic whiz past themare massive and minute forms of the deity gracing the crowds . Here is a photo feature capturing the essence of the festival from the  streets.

Madras Day celebrates the birth of a settlement called Madras . On August 22,1639, it is believed that the British got a grant from the local rulers – a small strip of a fishing village , where they were allowed to build a fort and castle. The land, surrounded by rivers and sea was almost like a peninsula grew into the settlement , Madras and became slowly the headquarters of the East India Company.  The British built Fort St George there and eventually, the town evolved around it.

At the Fort Museum, one can see maps and illustrations which documents the evolution of the fort and settlement over the centuries.

The Fort initially took about 14 years to build and was designed as a squarish structure with canons in the corners

Towns evolved around the fort – a white town within the town and the Indian or Black Town outside its walls

Some of the streets and monuments are seen even till date . The St Mary’s  Church for instance is one of the oldest structures in Fort St George that you can visit even today. It is said that Robert Clive got married in this church which houses several tombs and memorials

Today Fort St George is open to the public and on the occasion of Madras Day, there are several heritage walks held in the area. It is a pleasure to walk down the streets which still bear the original names and look around some of the structures that exist still date. For more details visit the official website of the Madras Day.