The Beauty of Ooty (the laziest and worst title in my blog's short history)

In the last of the evening light, I pass through the rolling hills of the Nilgiri district of Tami Nadu. Tea estates cover the hillsides. The dense, dark, rich leaves of the low-lying plants contrasting with the string-thin trees marking the patches. A gentle sunset fades in the back as the mountain road switchbacks push my stomach into battle. My well-picked seat helps save the day as the comfort of the semi-sleeper and open window balance my equilibrium enough to get me back to Coimbatore.

It’s a night bus and a good time to write and listen to music. After some waffling, I passed on Explosions in the Sky’s “How Strange Innocence” for Radiohead’s “Kid A”.
I can’t help myself. I’ve been on a massive Radiohead trip these days.

My trip south is closing down. It’s been amazing. From crazy faith adventures in Pondicherry to leading my first college course, it’s been a time for strange experiences, bug episodes, new relationships and wild travels.

This weekend I spent in Ooty, and old hill station built up by the British for retreat in the days of empire. Coming form the hot plains of Coimbatore, the cold air smarted as we climbed the mountain. Dropping from mid 80’s days to below freezing evenings. Packed for the Southern tropics, I thank God it was only an overnight. Our quick visit reminded me of a few critical learnings about India that will instruct me well for the rest of my life.

Hospitality is the greatest gift of all. When it can be given, it should be done so generously in physical, spiritual and personal terms. We arrived here on Saturday morning to the warm smile of Mr. Chandren. I’m still not sure how he is exactly connected to my crew, but he showed up dutifully in front of the Tata Motors storefront at Charring Cross with his two lieutenants in a well-worn white jeep (that we later learned needed a rolling start every morning [a la “Little Miss Sunshine”]). Without a moment hesitation, we were ferried up to our guest house at the top of a hill looking over the town. We dropped our bags and were off on a tour of Ooty by the number 2 man from the district’s horticultural department.

Yes, the number two man in a town known for its forests, gardens and fresh air took us on for 24 hours without even knowing who we were or what we were all about. He got us in gratis at the world’s largest rose garden, the 150-year old botanical garden, Doddabetta (the highest point in South India) and even at the town lake. His patience and duty unwavering throughout, we developed a nice relationship with him as he welcomed the strange family that my team has become in these past 6 weeks of traveling.

We all felt a sad goodbye when we left on the bus this morning. He had been a ready guide and friendly companion. Laughing with us at our group dynamics, bargaining for scarves and fleeces, picking up the odd ear of roasted corn off the street and handling our endless questions with informative authority. A true gem of India. We call this kind of man a champion. The one who makes your life incredibly better by the simple act of service. I honestly believe that a good dose of hospitality can change a person’s life. That may not have happened in Ooty, but there’s no question that we all had a blast because of his step forward in that spirit.

Homemade things are always best. At the top of the Botanical Garden (way at the top beyond the last tier where no one goes) there is a small village called Thodamund. It’s home to a few remaining “tribals” who still inhabit the area. (Tribals is a term given to those Indians that live deep in the rural country and have very basic infrastructure in terms of water, plumbing, etc. It’s still a term I’m trying to understand as it seems unrelated to a sense of “tribe” as I typically relate to indigenous people.) We arrived to see a few boys preparing the ancient temple for evening prayers. A couple of the older gentlemen spoke with us about the village that looked over the cascading hills of the Western Ghats in some kind of timeless landscape. A shame that its now losing literal and figurative ground to the more rampant consumerism of modern India

Speaking with the men, we noticed their spectacular shawls. Hand-threaded needlework on a vast canvas that covered the upper-half of a grown man’s body. One man proudly announced that it took his wife six months to make it. Covetous, I asked if he had any available. The large throw seemed off limits, but he said he would look for some other items. He returned with an exquisite scarf and a wall hanging. They will arrive on two of your doorsteps someday.

Walking out of the garden with my handmade loot, I walked past a store with a sign for homemade chocolates. Feeling the timing right for a culinary celebration to accompany my feeling of the epic garden, I purchased. Real chocolate in India overwhelmed me and my friends. We forgot the dropping temperatures for a moment and welcomed the cocoa intoxication.

When with a group, pay for an hour of fun, even if it seems over priced or a bit ridiculous. Showing up at Ooty Lake, a nice, but clearly man-made pocket of water in the mountains left me wondering. Tourist trapped to the max, the attached amusement park didn’t do much to add serenity to the natural surroundings. But we fought through the carnival and cotton candy to the boat dock, where we quickly split into two groups of three and boarded row boats that looked like they were built during the Mughal Empire and last restored at Independence.

Regardless, I felt a gasp of excitement in the thin, cool sunlight as I took the decrepit oars with a sense of pride belonging to the grandson of two boatsmen. Wielding the wood I took us halfway out before we all noticed that the other crew were struggling behind an ever-changing captaincy. We let float and watched as the sun and water collected at the treeline. The deer came down to eat the vegetation by the shore; the rock of our boat resonating with the sublime afternoon’s melody.

Our friends eventually found their sea legs and joined us in the afternoon radiance. I never thought an hour in a rowboat would do us all so much good. We beamed as we left to go grab our lunch banana leaf lunches topped off with sweet paan.

I think this short overnight in Ooty will change the rest of our trip. We haven’t looked this relaxed since we left. A real affirmation of good lessons put into action.