Is it ever possible to reverse time or, just relive a moment from your past? A moment which turned your life from something to something else, a moment which when thought about sends a chill and all this without anyone who were a part of your life year’s back when it occurred. I was thinking about October 2008, as Visteon’s shuttle bus was speeding past a church with sun set forming a beautiful formation behind its Cross lit in bright red. The view was so powerful that it broke the impasse between my responsibility and insanity and gave the go ahead to the later. It was a decision taken under emotive circumstances and I very well knew it was going to be an overpowering trip when I reached home, packed up and began the long drive to Sultan Bathery. Though the fear of an extremely emotive trip was slowing me down, heart stopping incidents from couple of years behind and ironically, the blissful hours that succeeded the incident forced me to press the accelerator hard to reach Sultan Bathery early next morning. Forced me to break the resistance offered by my inner fear, forced me to see it all and go through that timeless moment again, with no proof to reveal how weak I’ll get though, when time was wound back by 24 months. Certain events in life make a huge brunt that, when thought about years later they would force us through an emotional rush and push back to the time which was the cause. It obviously would be a dream that we could go through every night. Each incident preceding and succeeding Oct 2008 happened in sequence and so fast, I hardly had time to feel them and didn’t feel a pinch when the unexpected happened. I gained that stubborn attitude and decided to sacrifice everything for the sake of my real purpose. If I were to melt down and think about the loss, I would be the biggest loser for all the time I have invested in learning the unexplored portions of life. Ignored chapters which most could have missed, chapters which contained some beautiful explanation for the real meaning of breathing in air and breathing it out. It came at a price though and I paid for it.
Visteon had declared a long weekend for Diwali festival and my inbuilt manipulating creativity didn’t allow to sit idle. Few weeks ahead of the confirmed vacation I had begun to chalk out the plan to drive 630 Kms west in pursuit of Sultan Bathery, a place so special in my diary that I wouldn’t hesitate to set my grave there. But the plan was rendered weak as my usual trip partners were either married or, occupied with their money earning roles on the stage called by their respective organisation names. I was wondering if ever I would make it through when fate brought a character into picture to add to the evocative effect this trip was about to impart. I had ensured two of my companions Dave and Pipa, who were also a part of my last trip to Jog in Shimoga, and when I was searching for the fourth buddy Vijil’s name stood strong. I had been yearning for quite some time to do a trip with him, but his demanding and manic schedule with Nissan kept him out of radar and it was for this jaunt we were able to rope him in. I felt lucky in his company, for he would be renouncing his stag status in 2 months time. Myself, Vijil and Dave were part of a much bigger gang, whose partner’s are in different parts of the world and in different phases of life, which used to be a hilarious faction unmoved by anything, right from starting the preparation for fluid dynamics exam the day before to undertaking the risk of sharing the answer papers and falling in love with the same girl. Those were the days when heart ruled and brain obliged. My last outing with Vijil was to Manali, way back in Feb-2003, as a part of our final year tour and the feats performed by him takes me back in time just to enjoy that laugh one more time. I would quote “the way he attracted the armed CRPF guards in our railway coach by lighting a cigar, which is prohibited by Indian railways, in the middle of a freezing February night in the Chambal ravines and the struggle he put up against them to prove his innocence before my intervention” as the best iteration of such feats. When we search back into our closed pages, we find them more interesting than we found when open and accessible. Now I can just turn back the pages but couldn’t edit them. Where I missed it hurts and where I capitalized, it evens out. We never know how big our books could be, but the lessons read in previous pages firm up one point - there are opportunities in every page and we need to read carefully to convert them. And, oops I forgot Pipa, he’s officially Prasanna and my friend since I learnt the meaning of that word. He’s as simple as a pretending Indian politician and as committed towards his family as an Israeli Mossad. With this introduction and my beloved friends, I kick off the 14th trip which could be rated as my best ever in terms of photography.
As expected the mad festival rush created grid locks at major intersections delaying our arrival at home and departing from there to go through three days of unforgettable happenings. This time though, I didn’t want to repeat the blunder of driving through Bangalore-Mysore, despite trying to relive a moment, as I did way back in 2008. Since my drive to Masinagudi through Anthiyur, Sathyamangalam, Chamrajnagar, Gundulpet and Bandipur in Aug/2009, I was determined to take the same route to Sultan Bathery. It’s a kind of route which mesmerizes with its high speed single lane state highways and rustic landscape. Finally, when we met after overcoming all accumulated chaos, it was the beginning of an irresponsible, manic weekend and our brains were shut down. It was fun time after many years and Vijil exuded the same hilarious character that characterized him through the college years. Symptoms of an overwhelming trip was obvious and we headed west on the super smooth NH4, to begin a super hot jaunt. Strangely, I was entirely hooked with the present and couldn’t get my thoughts back to 2008. Maybe more time was needed and more distance needed to be covered - my prediction at that juncture. Vijil’s presence was the turning point and his every single joke overpowered my attempt to establish contact with 2008. Nevertheless, the recently drenched NH4 and the fresh tarmac kept the drenched past fresh in my occupied mind. Only events needed to be pulled back and I was just few hundred Kms from the place which would help do that. November night was cold and the drive was comfortable except for the slight nervousness induced by a drained out battery and a blown spare tyre. Intense work induced pressure was showing up in the form of frequent yawns and a tea break was obvious, soon. Just before Ambur, we pulled out of NH4 into a dark tea shop just adjacent to the Chennai-Salem section of the Southern railways. Surprisingly, it was busy for that time of night and its distance from the city displaying the tremendous growth in intercity travels. I would attribute this growth to world class highways, modern cars and ever increasing incomes. It indeed contributes, indirectly, to various sections of the Indian society deprived of opportunities and exploited, through the meager spend incurred on the road to their homes, employment opportunities and not to mention, their fun filled vacations.
After the tea break it was a serious, monotonous and a quite drive till Thopur Ghat. Krishnagiri was passed by without a halt, which we usually do, and so was Dharmapuri. NHAI has transformed NH7 into bliss and major towns were passed by without ever being noticed. Thopur is a small town on NH7 located on the Dharmapuri – Salem Southern Karnataka . I was about to embark on my favourite road when its state, rendered useless by the same element that adds romance to my trips – the rain, shocked me like never before. It was extremely broken and I couldn’t press the throttle more than a couple of inches and moved inch by inch, just an exaggeration to express my frustration. With nothing to be done, I remained glued to the extreme left allowing the over-laden trucks and the Volvo coaches to speed by, spewing mud and smoke on my face well protected by the wind shield. Had it been in a favourable state, it would have been a different story and I would have enjoyed reading every sentence of it. Time flew by with no substantial increment to the trip meter and it was imminent I would not make the Stretch between Ammapet and Sathyamangalam under the cover of darkness, a main agenda for this trip. Respite came in the form of an ultra smooth stretch between Mettur and an unknown village 15 Kms ahead after which it was again 20 Kms/Hr till Ammapet Junction. From there onwards it was a blast, though the ambience was spoilt by the emerging dawn and I drove cursing till we reached Sathyamangalam. Day light exposes the imperfections and the thrill darkness imparts is eliminated by the cattle and people inhabiting the countryside. Sathyamangalam was passed by with an annoyed mind and I was looking ahead to enjoy the seclusion the ever seducing NH209 was about to offer, no matter which part of the day.
NH209 connects Dindugal in Tamil Nadu with Bangalore Bangalore India Bangalore
Gundulpet hasn’t changed much in the last 2 years and since the last 2 drives through it, except for a road widening work by its municipality. Nevertheless, its prominence on the tourist circuit can’t be overlooked, for it lies at the junction which connects Mudumalai, Bandipur and Muthunga, all part of the much bigger Nilgiri biosphere reserve. As always, we got our beer cans and slid past the seats for a relaxing drink as Vijil was enjoying his drive, which in few minutes, would take him through Bandipur and Muthunga into Sultan Bathery as I was beginning to submerge into the beautiful memories of oct/2008. So must have Prasanna. David is the idle one then, enjoying his beer with no memories or worries and that’s exactly the way to unwind. Temperature was favourable, sky was blanketed with scattered clouds, vegetation was green, my eyes were wet and there were signs of recent rain yet, no rain to welcome us into god’s own country like in the recent past. NH212 was eroded badly, consequent of torrential rains, and we drove with a dejected heart fearing our trip would turn out to be a dehydrated addition to my gradually enlarging blog. Driving through a reserve forest must have been a long time dream for Vijil and his fervent look-out, with the wheels wandering off-course occasionally, for wildlife only endorsed that. First set of beer cans went dry soon and the mystifying Muthunga began to overpower me throwing chunks of scenes from its depths, from 2 years behind. I knew this was the moment and when about to yield myself to the offer, Dave offered me the second can which I accepted promptly to attain a distorted state. The occasional streams, that single exotic water Hole, the bridge were Gokul, Sunand and Prasanna posed for my camera 2 years back (7th photo in my 3rd posting), the sign board which showed 20+ Kms to Bathery, the check posts manned by forest officials and the thrilling aura were identified with ease and it felt like I was through this place just a week’s time back. The second can went empty and we were about to enter Bathery, a place which altered my life couple of years back, to learn the perspective of absolute irresponsibility. Still, the heavens were reluctant to open up.
Hairs stood straight on my hand as we entered Bathery and I drove eagerly towards the right, barely wide enough to let the car through, to reach my special place of stay – The Isaac’s Regency and if possible my special room, the Suit with the number 101 on its door. Our poor run with the rain was compensated, when the keys to 101 was handed over to my shuddering hand. It was truly a revival as settings from 2 years behind were pulled with brute force and put in front of my eyes. As I unlocked the door and stepped into 101, it was an uplifting moment for I drove 630 Kms, with a fragile hope, to redo something which was so special and close to my heart. Mind began scheming - the room remained the same, the settings remained the same, Gokul and Sunand were replaced by Vijil and Dave, the rain was conspicuously deficient and above anything else, I couldn’t hide my fear for age and time. Something which I even didn’t think about couple of years back when there was absolute contentment. Didn’t think because I didn’t know what it really meant to live, sustain and pass away with fulfillment. Now, few years later, when I’ve learnt to live the way am destined to; life also taught me more things that need to be worried about than things to boast about. Death was one among them and it drives me, beyond saturation, to see more than I could, write more than I really could and capture the creations in more ways than my creativity could manage to. It is an obvious run towards over burn and was only a matter of time before I called it a day, which I never want to. Everything else am doing now is only a means to help achieve my real purpose. Pushing aside the internal debates and concerns, I ordered for a cup of coffee and began to enjoy the wonderful time with my valuable friends. Ordered exactly the same lunch as I did way back in Oct/2008, maybe I was over nostalgic, and quenched my hunger with no idea of the developments outside. One after the other, we got ready in a couple of hours to see them all, the creations which we missed 2 years back, and on heading out we were taken for a pleasant ride as the rain was pouring down with significant intensity. Prayers answered, we drove towards Meppadi, a small hill station, in pursuit of missed opportunities. Rain was now pouring with substantial intensity and the wiper blade was moving with comparative velocity. Scenarios remained fresh and I drove if this place was my native. The rain which induced ecstasy, was also threatening to repeat the outcome we faced way back in 2008. Sky was darker than ever and the low light condition was about to spoil the photographic opportunities.
Wayanad, though not as big as Idukki, is a district of energy consuming distances. Its rugged terrain and rain washed roads incur a huge stress on the vehicle and the occupants as well. There are hell a lot of places to be seen in this hilly terrain and a naturalist could easily spend a whole day at each of them. But being an average tourist, our agenda was to cover as much places as possible with the available daylight. Almost all tourist spots in Wayanad are loaded with people during the holidays but still, one has managed to ward off the tourist invasion for quite some time. It’s called “The Sunrise valley”, and to me “The valley of Mystery Sunrise Valley Sunrise Forest officials did my heart slow down and before it could rest, the mighty Sochipara aroused it again. It was only 5 PM and already, the mist and rain have rendered visibility to such a low level that I could shoot the flowing beauty only with a very high exposure. I wasn’t satisfied and gasped my way up to the base. I was sure I’ll be coming back tomorrow and not two years later, like I told to myself two years back. That night was spent with planning, past memories and an unadulterated sleep induced by fatigue, cold rain and Martini.
I’ll now clarify what’s so special about the bottom of SunRise Valley Calicut on the Malabar Coast . The explanation seems good, but how does it define the SRV?? Simple, SRV has a vantage point, a single slippery rock some 2500 feet above mean sea level, from where you can watch the Chaliyar pierce its way through dense tropical forest. It’s a sight that will take your breath away and an exaggeration even wouldn’t describe the view close to reality. My agenda was to see them all, and in the same day under broad daylight, which may seem to be a blatant greediness. But it’s possible, with proper planning and proper Vehicle we had the targets fixed and were ready to take them on, one after the other. Our Off Road Vehicle (A FWD jeep) picked us up at 9 sharp and we were at the entrance to the Meenmutty 45 minutes later. An off-road vehicle will help conserve the valuable energy you would need to hike the demanding slopes leading to Meenmutty for the first, almost 1.2 Kms, stretch from the entrance to the forest check post can be covered with ease. We could see a lot of people panting their way up the rocks as we were sitting in the comfort of the jeep and in the process, saving a hell lot of energy. A lot?? Only the path ahead would determine and remember, never attempt this stretch with a Sedan or a hatchback, at least till the tourism department levels it. Entry fee is INR 300 for a small group and the initial impressions wouldn’t project the reality ahead. The path, at the beginning, meanders through tea gardens and mist adds to the charm. You could occasionally hear the distant falls and the eagerness makes you walk fast, burning the valuable energy. Towards the end, especially when it’s raining like during our hike, conditions can get from worse to dangerous in a matter of minutes. Though there are ropes to hold on, your body would be sliding from end to end over the frictionless wet red mud, slippery to the extent that you lose the entire confidence. My case was even worse, with only one hand available to hold to the rope and the other one holding my valuable DSLR as I was making my best ever attempt in imitating a cat, which is nothing but a fine coordination between speed and agility. I would say this was my toughest photographic session, at least for getting back my camera with no damage from the rain, massive spray from the Meenmutty and the red mud. Satisfied, we began the hike back to the base and this time we had a much bigger challenge to face - exhausted body Vs Gravity – consequently, the attempt was nerve bursting. But the agenda kept us enthusiastic and we were relentless, until the base was reached and the Jeep was cranked. With the same intensity Kathampara was explored and Sochipara was visited the third time and this time around, it couldn’t escape my frame. Most of the photographs in this posting are its gift, and I feel grateful for the patience incurred. Evening was spent with cups of hot tea in the cozy tea stall just opposite to the ticket office, as the FWD vehicle was waiting for our departure under the placid drizzle and annoying darkness. The drive back was horrendous with lumps of mist inhibiting visibility to the first 2 meters and I was never sure if it was a corner or a 2000 feet drop. Got my breath back after hitting the main Ghat road and thereafter, it was a romantic night drive under torrential rain. So romantic that I was aroused, physically, for the first time during a jaunt and I was eager to reach the room as fast possible for that rare sleep. That night was spent with darkness, crazy dreams and an unadulterated sleep induced by the three tiring treks. I’ve already called it a day and was laughing with myself hearing my friend’s plan for a morning drive to Muthunga, which cheated me two years back. I never wanted to see the early hours of next day or the Muthunga, all I wanted was an extended sleep.
As I was curling up inside the big blanket under the comfort of early morning chillness, my friends were gearing up for the much Hyped safari @ Muthunga. Human mind is so reluctant that it accepts reality after experiments and, I was no different two years back. Though I conveyed it they didn’t want to stop and proceeded under the early morning darkness, leaving me alone with the much needed comfort zone. It was an awesome sleep for the next three hours before the guys came back with an elongated face, and I ordered for the tea cups to share their awesome moment, awful to be precise. This was the last day of our wonderful weekend and we got ready for the sore departure. To suppress the hard feeling we decided to spend an hour in the lonely pool, splashing and diving, and ran out of time soon. I was now beginning to think about the departure 2 years back – it was a tender event and I still couldn’t override its effect, no matter which ever path the life takes. It was an irreversible dent and now, as I was reversing the car from the same parking lot, my mind was composed and solidified to an extent that no incident could blow a dent in my ever probing life. Bid goodbye to Sultan Bathery yet another time and drove towards the perplexing Muthunga, to cross it with envy and awe, and reach Gundulpet. From here our plan was to drive through Bandipur and Mudumalai, in quest of wildlife, and reach Charring Cross in Ooty by 20:00 Hrs. But unusually, this trip was very miserly in terms of wildlife sightings as we have driven through some of the best forest regions of south India
Each one of us who were a part of this trip, who made this Jaunt a side-splitting memory would have reached their respective dens and fast asleep too. But I was sitting in an inclined position before my personal computer and uploading the photos from the DSLR. MS photo manager was slowly transferring the data to the computer as I was thinking about the two years that had passed between my trip 3 and trip 14. Eventful years I should say for, I got a new job, more friends renounced their stag status, life was under more pressure than ever before, developed an exotic love over white rum and Mango juice, bought a SLR and learnt its time consuming to learn using it, craved every single day of buying a Canon L series lens, dreamt every single day of that mind blowing shot which could win me a prize from Nat-Geo, envied a couple of friends who got a Cruze and Jetta, added 11 trips to the blog, got rid of the lower abdomen flab, improved endurance and a lot of beautiful things which I couldn’t find place to insert here. Phew, the MS photo manager had done its job and it was time for me to take over. The steam from the hot black tea was grazing the monitor screen and the vapours condensed to give a nostalgic effect. I began looking into the photos of the same place shot under same geographic conditions, but during different years and with different people. I could feel like I was being pulled into a vacuum and it was overwhelming, powerful to be precise. The photos were 20 times better but the feeling? The past prevailed over the present. A calendar shows the future dates and the special ones are marked. If there was one that could run backwards, which days would you like to be marked? I could say it would be those days which were spent with your true friends, days which contained unforgettable happenings and which we do overlook as responsibilities consume us. It consumed me too and as I suddenly make an arrogant attempt and redo it, it didn’t offer me the same contentment as it did years back when I craved for everything I have now. Few people, in this exaggeratedly fast world, get a rare opportunity to relive a moment from their priceless past and very few identify that moment and still very few, capitalize on such an opportunity. I, with an unsatisfactory mind, consider myself one among them for I forced and manipulated circumstances to push myself into that lucky faction. Had it been an obvious opportunity this trip would have seen me emerge happier than I went into it. Nevertheless, I feel happy to have relived a moment which will haunt my dreams before I sleep forever. And I’ll continue to do so as long as I live - relive as much times viable before I cease to live!
Parameters
Route – Chennai-Vellore-Thopur-Mettur-Anthiyur-Sathyamangalam-Bannari-Dimbam-Chamrajnagar-Gundulpet-Sultan Bathery-Bandipur-Masinagudi-Kothagiri-Chennai.
Best time to visit- July to September, to enjoy the native ambience and forget the world, Nov to Jan, to walk through the mist and mysteries.
Specialties – Peak wilderness, multiple options, great roads, trekking options, affordable hospitality, that mesmerizing night downpour.
What you should do – Keep thinking what you should do, laze at that desolate tea stall, forget your origin, enjoy the rain or mist or both, try to locate a king cobra, get a glimpse of the sun rise valley.
Don’t Forget – Your camera, an umbrella, martini or white rum, to be robust, to hire a 4WD, get a perfect shot of Sochipara, to switch of your N8.
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