Tiny Travel Tale – By Reshma Emmatty

‘Do I really have to come?’ I moaned sleepily. I hate getting up early, and it was only 5am. Amma didn’t bother replying, but yanked me off the bed and went on to wake my little brother up.

We both hated this ‘getting-up-at-5am’ business. But it happened once every year for our annual ritual- Ooty trip. For three days every year, we unwound in the Queen of hill stations, playing anything we like, eating anything we like and going anywhere we like. It’s like living life king size for three days every year. And for that, we had to wake up at 5am. We grumbled, protested that we didn’t want to go along, but we reached Ooty all the same.

Our grumpiness never got past those 14 hairpin bends .We loved the eucalyptus scented Nilgiris, a relief from our hot Trichur summers. My brother would look forward to food- from Shinkows, Nehar, Lakeview and every other place that would waft beckoning aromas towards his nose. I had Higgin Bothams. And go- karting. And flavoured milk from Aavin.

My parents have been going to Hotel Lakeview, Ooty, every year since the year they said ‘I do’ (Now we even get a 20% discount there!), and I started hating the whole Ooty business as I grew up. I was so bored of going to the same old place that Amma had to bribe me with more books and higher pocket money to make me go.

I was glad when I couldn’t make it for the ooty trip the year I turned 18. I even teased my brother for having to go there yet again, unlike me. But then, when they were all gone, I felt that I missed something. I missed sitting by the fireplace, wrapped in a cozy shawl with a fresh new book and a tetra pack of flavoured milk by my side. But more than that, I missed those three days when all four of us could be together, all day. Playing cricket, cards, roaming around, eating out together- a whole sense of belonging…

I still hate getting up at 5 am for Ooty. But once I’m up the blue hills, I simply enjoy every minute with three people I love the most. Come March, and I’m off again!

Tiny Travel Tales entry by – Garima

Still high on the Kerala trip! - Payanur and Paithalmala

Full of the energy of new experiences and widening mental landscapes. This trip was an abundance of love and beauty. Every so often, from one of the numerous small roadway bridges, one sees a vista of a wide flowing river flanked by coconut trees, heading softly into the expansive ocean. Or a winding road stubbornly climbing up a sparsely populated hill, with coconut trees and banana trees to surprise you.

Didn’t coconut trees belong on sea-level beaches?  The mind had to do a double take to assimilate tropical trees alongside cool mountain air and altitude. This was not the Kerala on the first page of travel websites- golden, silvery sand and drooping coconut trees. This was Paithalmala, a tiny group of hillocks tucked away in northern Kerala at a safe 150kms distance from the nearest airport at Calicut. Paithamala is a dramatic countryside of steep hills where one turn brings you to the sight of a sudden cliff dropping a thousand feet, straight into the lap of a fishing community’s boats lolling sleepily in the backwaters.

And then there were the people… Soft, modest, simple and loving. While they adhering to traditions and the old way of doing things. I found them systematically adding modern conveniences and a few luxuries. I was there in April, at one of their most sacred festivals ushering in the new year, called Vishu.  The new culture and the customs that I learnt about just cannot be compiled in a document. I got a taste of not just the finest food made in Kerala homes, but also the aspirations of the community at large. “Vishu” for me symbolized man’s honest perennial hope for a better tomorrow for himself and his future generations. Enjoying fireworks a second time in the year (other than diwali) was like a delightful unexpected pleasure!

Then there were those three golden words from a gentle old lady that overjoyed me. On the wrong side of 80, this lady living in the small town of Payanur with her family, was my host for the trip. Just when my own preconceived ideas were making me struggle to communicate with her, she surprised me by saying “I love it”, in English. “Sri Krishna! I love it!” These words were inspired by a traditional Tanjore painting of Baby Krishna I had taken for her. When I look back the memories I find this place and its people were really more than one could have imagined before visiting and broke many of my stereotypes and expanded my mind.

And isn’t that the real purpose of travel?

Tiny Travel Tales entry by – Sonal Gupta

It was four o’clock and the river at the banks was quiet. The grey sky gave no signs of the future’s jeopardy. Overhead a bird soared through the clouds. On the banks, we huddled closer to our guide as he instructed us.

We jumped onto the rafts with much enthusiasm. We were handed huge paddles; I wondered how much strength I would need to move it through the water. I admired the water as we drifted through the river, dipping my fingers into the icy water. Huge waves were forming, looking like lifeless ghosts. Our raft rocked with the waves and a gigantic wave hit our raft.

In seconds it overturned dumping all seven of us into the chilling water. Before I could take a breath I was pulled downwards by the strong current. I gulped down much water. My life jacket kept bringing me back to the surface against the current. Water sprayed all over me and I felt as if I had no chance of making it out alive. I ran my hands around the raft and clung on to the rope tied at its sides. I lunged upwards pushing the water down with my legs. My head bobbed to the surface as the waves became less violent.

Everyone was clutching the rope. Fear gripped me as I saw panic in my dad’s eyes. Now, we had to turn the raft to make it upright. The water I had admired before now looked like a threatening force. We toppled the raft and once again I was sucked into the water under the raft. My life jacket pulled me upwards but I only hit the raft’s floor. I closed my eyes and I tried to get myself out. My lungs longed for oxygen. Finally after a few kicks I was able to get out and grasp the rope. One by one the guide pulled us into the raft. My heart pounded as I took huge breaths and tried to take in as much oxygen as I could. I felt a surge of pain throughout my whole body. My sides ached and my legs were numb. Water ran down my face and my wet t-shirt clung to my body. I breathed in and out frantically.

My hair had come out of the rubber band and was hanging loose, sticking to my face. I was safe. We all were. I shivered in the cool evening breeze and thanked God that we were safe. This incident which had taken place in mere minutes felt like a lifetime. The three other men were strangers to us but somehow those few minutes connected us to each other. Each of us had been seized by the same emotions while drowning. We drove back to our camps and sat by the bonfire and shared our experiences each telling his story.

The moon shone brightly in the cloudless sky telling us that the day was over and a new tomorrow will come.

Tiny Travel Tales entry by – SAMMYA BRATA MULLICK

We could have missed the experience of a life-time had we denied the client's offer.

However, it did seem to be the biggest mistake of our lives when our Gypsy stopped midway, cramped by the thick and impermeable layer of snow. It was a 12-hour journey from Itanagar to Tawang and we had started late in the evening so that we could reach there early in the morning. We were just about to put the blame on our decision of travelling at night when there was an amazing turn-around. A military truck was passing by grazing through the snow in search of „daylight? – that was the most „delight?-ful scene I have ever witnessed in my life. They stopped on the way ahead and offered help.

As we drove along the steep slopes of the Himalayas, bathed in the dense cover of fog, all we could do is pray; pray for a safe ride up to the heights of Tawang. The news of incessant landslides had just reached us from the base camp.

There were a few breathtaking moments when an odd reckless punk drove across the slope, but the serenity of the atmosphere and the Military driver?s competence were comforting and reassuring. The cup of hot coffee and those bowls of “instant-noodles” seemed like heaven in the shivering cold. We had just started chanting a few popular tunes when the driver suddenly pulled the brakes. We were literally dumbstruck to witness that death was just a few meters ahead of us; our truck stood on the extreme edge of the slope, on the edge of death- The mysteries of Nature had almost deceived us, but we were saved by an eternal bliss.

We were still recovering from the shock, when Mother Nature unfolded her exotic charm in-front of our eyes. Goodness gracious! It seemed like some un-known power had cast its spell upon us. Hypnotised we were as the Nature waved its magic wand in-front of our eyes. The „clouds of disaster? SLOWLY moved away and the holy elegance of the Everest announced itself in full vigour. The feeble early morning sunrays were just her treasured ornaments, her crown; her radiance…the shades on the snow-capped peak in the reddish glow was un-thinkable. WE STOOD THERE in utter disbelief….there was no sign of panic, no sign of anxiety, no sign of distress; The fear of Death had almost overpowered us couple of minutes back…..yet we were engrossed in savouring the best moment of our LIVES, undoubtedly the BEST.

The truck had restarted in the mean-while and the driver signalled us to get into the vehicle as soon as possible. We rushed to occupy our seats when my colleague exclaimed-“Nature is the best magician ever. Our official trip has been glorified!”

Rightly so!

Tiny Travel Tales entry by – Indrakshi Dcosta

Whilst Coorg offered us a balm to frayed nerves and city life stress, we had no idea what Bylakuppe, a town 40 kms away, would have in store…

We reached Bylakuppe at around 11 am and found the pocket of Tibetan civilization bustling with activity. I thought the monks would command an air of reverence and silence but I was bewildered to see them in their maroon and yellow robes walking, biking, travelling in autorikshaws, chatting in restaurants, shopping in market places, and everywhere. In fact, when we reached the Namdroling Monastery, there were not many monks inside! To understand this exodus, I thought it would be only fair to ask one of the monks about their lifestyle. To my luck, I found one who didn’t know a word of English or Hindi, but only nodded his head and smiled. I knew I wasn’t going to find any answers there, so I bid my smiling monk goodbye and headed out to the marketplace.

It was almost lunch time. The monks on a usual day ate their meal after a day spent in prayers and rested during the afternoons before getting back to their routine. Somehow, this day was far from usual. I walked into the market place feeling a bit intimidated to be the ones standing out amidst a sea of yellow and maroon. We entered a tiny eatery called New Olive where monks seemed to be lost in conversation over lime sodas. The owner of the eatery seemed surprised to see us come in. He offered us a delicious Tibetan non-veg thali consisting of Tibetan bread, salad, beef curry, fried chicken, bitter gourd, rice, dal and sweet curd. We ate hungrily and soon the eatery started to dwindle in its population, until we found ourselves alone with its young owner. He sat down, smiled, introduced himself and the conversation began.

Bhikma, cleared my confusion by informing me that since it was a Tuesday, it was a holiday for the monks! It was a day they moved out of their disciplined lives, mingled with the people and enjoyed time to themselves. Entertainment seemed simple – discussions, debates and laughter in any of the many eateries lining the road, spending the day with their families, window shopping and communicating with their people. They would return to their monastery by evening and rise again early the next morning to their austere life of prayer, study and meditation.

What a paradox Tuesdays seemed and yet, it brought me to think that even they understand the meaning and need for the human body and soul to break away from routine and community life and descend into the plains to mingle and unite with the rest of civilization. 

There is no enlightenment for a soul distracted by the life in this world. Neither can a soul that blocks itself away from the world find enlightenment.

Man must look beyond himself into the hearts, needs and sufferings of people around him in order to find enlightenment.

Tiny Travel Tales entry by – Deepti Menon

As the jeep travelled up the mountains from Tezpur to Tenga, in Arunachal Pradesh, the river sparkled alongside as the sun rays  glanced off, creating little silver droplets that flashed like dragon flies in the breeze. On one side, the mountain wall rose, grey and forbidding, while the valley dropped away in all its glory, on the opposite side. Tiny wild flowers grew in nooks and crannies, creating a colourful tapestry in hues of sunny yellows, blood-hued crimsons and blushing violets, reminiscent of poet William Blake’s evocative images.

By evening the mist moved in, casting a pall, imperceptibly growing in intensity, till the road seemed to disappear! The clouds had descended to almost ground level, and the driver could hardly see where he was going. My husband got down, and walked alongside in the dark, guiding the jeep by following the luminescent road markers that had been put in by some canny soul in the past!

After a night’s stay in Tenga, we drove on, crossing the Sela Pass at a height of 13,921 feet, the highest point of the trip. The drive was spectacular; the view took our already depleted breath away, even as waterfalls gurgled down the rock front at regular intervals, till we reached Tawang, which bordered China. Our eyes were caught by whole areas covered with chopped down tree stumps. History had it that, during the 1962 Indo- China war, all these were cut down by the Chinese who had wandered all the way into India, felling trees in their wake! So what we were looking at was a graveyard of trees, as it were!

The Madhuri Lake, so called after the movie Koyla was shot there, starring Madhuri Dixit and Shahrukh Khan, was an expanse of light grey, striking against the deeper grey of the sky, and its waters shone like a mirror, with little herds of yak that grazed by its banks. The scene was ethereal, almost like a mystical painting in hues of grey, ivory and silver. Gazers on had forgotten the actual name of this picturesque lake, which was Shungetser Tso, preferring to use its more glamorous counterpart. The pine groves that encircled the lake gave it a quaintly picture postcard appearance, casting their balmy fragrance around as well.

What amazed us was the sight of a row of tree trunks sticking out piquantly in the middle of the lake, casting an unbroken row of reflections that enhanced the mysticism of the lake.  Apparently, this lake had been created after a flash flood in 1950, when the waters changed their path and gushed their way around the trees in the adjoining areas.

The impression we took away in ‘our inward eye’ was one of a serene untouched land, dotted with colourful prayer flags that pointed us towards the world famous Tawang Monastery,  the tuneful sounds of the gongs, and smiling Buddhist monks in maroon robes, which made us feel that  ‘all’s right with the world’!

Tiny Travel Tales entry by – Mehwash

LUNACY OF A BOTTLE OF MARBLES SCATTERED ON THE FLOOR

I had so much fun it was almost lunacy. 

The location was Lonavala .A much traveled place but always bursting with life showing different horizons in different seasons.

Be it the milky waterfalls in rains, chills in winters or the sunny picnic spots.

Don’t forget the chikkis and lovely restaurants.

The strawberries, ‘buttas’ ,chats….the list goes on.

Sunset point, bushi dam.. all utter bliss.

The food too tastes great in the weather. 

Trekking ,horse rides ,great shopping, wonderful roads.

Hillls ,valleys define the highs and lows in one’s life.

Great place to write and read for the soul.

No vehicular pollution ,we enjoy so many bicycle rides.

Listening to the birds and their sweet music is a music unheard

Shady trees ,great vadapavs .

Oh my life seems a roller coaster ride.

Shopping for honey ,chikkis ,sweaters .

Well its a mecca for women.

A home away from home.

 A must destination for all visiting Maharashtra.

One should also visit its twin city Khandala.

The waterfalls reinstates one’s idea of milky rivers in heaven.

A very rejuvenating and relaxing place.

Great connectivity with major cities makes it easily accessible.

The moment one enters the hill station it seems that one has entered a beautiful scenery hung on a wall.

The beauty is unbelievably true.

A pleasure for the eyes with  sprawling trees ,deep deeper valleys and high higher hills.

The journey itself becomes pleasurable.

Beautiful flowers RAISING

and cattle GRAZING

from such a  pretty effect i am still REELING.

I  have the most amazing family picnics here but still we keep wanting to go again and again.

While Mussoorie and Dehradun are popular holiday destinations, the one place that  has much to offer and remains unexplored is Kanatal.  The city in Uttarakhand, Kanatal is located 78 km ahead of Dehradun in Uttarakhand and 38 kms to Mussoorie  [The Queen of Hills]. A hamlet surrounded by beautiful hills, Kanatal is an unexplored destination in the Tehri District.

The beauty of Kanatal is unpolluted and unexploited. Unlike other hill stations, we discovered Kanatal was well connected by road to other parts of the country.

 We headed to Kanatal by road enroute to Mussorie. To those of us living in busy cities, being in Kanatal is such a breath of fresh air. As we rode along the near empty roads, we spotted a temple high up in the hills. Our cab stopped at a point from where it was a good 2km uphill climb to the temple. Though we wondered if we should embark on this expedition, we decided to go for it. It was well worth the effort and climb. We had reached the gates of the Surkunda Devi temple. A man who was sitting near a wall told us a big of history about the place. Legend has it that Lord Shiv carried Sati’s dead body on his Trishul to this very point. It was nearly 11am, and we noticed the snow capped surroundings all around and the chill in the air felt in the early hours of the morning.  It was quite an experience walking on the snow inside the temple.

The view from the temple was breath taking. We got a 360 degree view of the hills below. We spotted a board that said this temple was at a height of 9995 feet. A lady passing by pointed out two peaks nearby saying they were Badrinath and Kedarnath. Being there, listening to the tales, feeling the chill bite into our fingers, this was like nothing I had experienced before. Cant be described in words, needs to be felt.

As we made our descent, we saw quite a few people sitting in meditation or practicing yoga. Hunger pangs beat us down leaving us with no choice but to march ahead back to the car park. We could not spot a single hotel and realised finding a resort or hotel was our only option.

After fueling our body and warming up, we decided to visit The Tehri Dam. Though the dam was finally completed in 2006, the initial stages of construction began in 1961.

As the day wore on, we wanted to explore Chamba, 16 kms from Kanatal. If you thought Kanatal was u touched, Chamba is practically undiscovered. All these places have not been exploited and there are practically no signs of urbanization anywhere. That night we decided to camp at Chamba, under the stars with nothing but the mountains and music for company. We created a small barbeque to add to the flavor of the night. This was definitely one of the highlights of the trip and probably the most memorable adventure camp. Deep into the night, there was silence engulfing us and all we heard were the sounds of the forest.

Our cab driver told us there were few other places we could explore that were within few hours’ drive from Kanatal- Dhanaulti at 12kms and Shivpuri at 75 kms from Kanatal The later is renowned for the white water rafting and so we knew it was where we were headed. Eight of us piled into a boat, rafting in the Ganges, racing against the gushing water gave us such an adrenaline rush, we decided to savour the experience and visit Dhanaulti next time around. We were exhausted after the 5 hour ride and all we did was dig into the hot cup of Maggi we found. We were chill to the bone and soaking wet. As we warmed our bodies, we wondered what more was hidden in Kanatal waiting for us to explore.

Getting to Kanatal is quite easy, one can either drive down from Dehradun or Rishikesh, or alternatively enjoy a train ride along the mountains. If travelling by air; the nearest airport would be Jolly Grant Airport which is about 95 kms from Kanatal.

Club Mahindra has launched their new property in Kanatal. Set amidst serene surroundings, the resort will offer a view of the snow capped Garhwal-Himalayas ranges,  the town below and plenty of lush greenery. Booking into this resort will add to your experience and be the highlight of your vacation.

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

Tiny Travel Tales Entry by Ravi Kumar

They say you can rediscover love in the hills. Maybe that’s what happened with my wife and me. We had gone to visit my sis-in-law in Haridwar, and had learnt that Mussourie was just a few hours drive from the holy town. Also learnt that it was possible to go there and come back on the same day, after spending a few hours sight seeing and having lunch.

This short but very sweet sojourn took place quite a few years back, and therefore the details are pretty sketchy in my mind, but do remember visiting the Gun Hills and Camel’s Back

We started around 9 AM from Haridwar and reached Mussourie around 11 AM, a slow meandering ride, since we stopped for tea/bits/bites. The ride to Mussourie was pretty exciting and picturesque, what with waterfalls, narrow roads and steep turns, from where the valley views were particularly spectacular. Riding with us, were our disjointed thoughts, across between enjoying the lovely views and exploring our inner universes, where a churning of thoughts and emotions were riding along with us. Our tumultuous ties of the past few years and our collective inabilities to find a track that would bring us together was a hovering like a black cloud during the whole, physically delightful trip!

However, we finally managed to reach our destination, the Mall road, somewhat tired, both mentally and physically. We gathered our stuff, paid the driver for one-way, and  told him to wait for our return journey, adding that if he found someone else, he was welcome to undertake that journey, since return cabs were available a-plenty…!

We walked out aimlessly at first, since we had about 5/6 hours to kill, and then finally we walked towards our luncheon destination, Padmini Niwas Hotel, famous for its vegetarian stuff. We reached the Hotel around 1 PM. We had lunch at Padmini Niwas Hotel, a fantastic place with a huge lawn and big dining hall, serving piping hot and very tasty Veg Gujarati meals.

Next, accompanied by a guide and on foot, since cars are not allowed beyond a certain point, we walked along Camel’s Back and do remember reaching the most picturesque point after some walking and a horse ride.

Next on our agenda was the cable ride to Gun Hills, a fantastic yet somewhat scary ride. We stayed at the half-way point for about one hour, enjoying the sights and having a look around, while enjoying the chaats on offer…

Our visit to “Lal Tibba”, the highest point of Mussourie was the highest point of our visit too, where watching the panoramic Himalayan range bought out the ‘hidden’ romantic instincts as well as arousing the love of travel within both of us. It was almost late evening, I recollect, and time for us to undertake the return journey to Haridwar,

We reached Haridwar, late in the evening, hungry and pleasantly tired!

That trip probably was the starting point of our future travels…