When Mist Moves Your Heart: Journey to Wayanad

Location:
India

By Sreelesh

Throwing off all the week long job headaches, incessant mobile rings, coffee chats at the cramped cafeteria, and the advices of the workaholics, I decided to have a change, though for a few hours time. I laid aside my lap top and took a travel book that was lying abandoned on my table top. It had been long since my wife forced me to pin down on a place in this bizarre book for a couple of day’s trip for a newly wedded couple that we were. Cities, we did not like at all; the same lukewarm scene of eateries and shopping malls and people in designer over alls. We wanted something exotic and different. In a trice we reached Wayanad, a hilly terrain lying hogged in the mist with gurgling streams running down from ghostly rocks thatched by ever green forests. The warbling of birds from their hidden nests strikes an alto and is punctuated rhythmically by the periodic baritone growl of nightly birds even at the bright day time. The cool wind sweeps through the banana groves while the brown-skinned human toil hard. The weak ray of sun was vertical and thus was drawing pigmy shadow of the considerably big body of us when we reached Pukode Lake; the sparkling water body with no bends or wrinkles. The lake was in round shape hedged by lush growth of natural garden with a whole lot of smiling flowers. Like gems at a jeweler’s green velvety show case .The tall trees stood forlornly on the over looking hills spreading shifting shadows, now here, now there, as the sun progressed its course to horizon . The most fascinating thing about the hills is the solitude stamped on every thing one sees and experiences. Perhaps you are the only unnatural thing there. Everything around you would be in mirth and so you can not remain vapid any longer. You must either strive to be part of it or pack off to your hideous nests at the city. Our next destination was really a worth –see and must-see place. It is a water fall cascading from an age old hill almost 9 km from Pukode Lake. The way up to there will bruise your soles in spite of your iron-hard-sport shoes. The graveled country road is shouldered by hefty boulders will throw uphill challenges at every twist on the road. The shanty houses of hill dwellers. As we sweated heavily out of breath, a man visibly coming from that background shot a benign smile on his craggy face that was sunburned. He accosted us to provide the cool harvest of mountain water in an earthen pitcher. The cool water chilled my spine. My wife already tired limping along the way wanted to sit somewhere to cool off. The scrawny man stood to give us his humble hospitality. We accompanied him. The winding path led us to several folds of small mounds that ended up in front of a hut. A bent over woman from inside screened her palms over her shaggy brow to have full visibility of us. She might be suffering form cataract; a woman with cataract lives beside a cataract. We got inside the hut. It was barely neck high so I feared whether my head might be propped out if I stood erect. In order to avoid any such mishap to the poor man’s abode, I consciously kept my head bowed. They were in a pernickety to provide us whatever precious treat they could get; perhaps their storeroom did not have much to offer. We were terribly hungry and it was visible to them on our face. Soon the bent over lady reappeared with two bowls of Tapioca boiled with fish that wafted a succulent smell. Though I was an avowed vegetarian I began to dig my fingers in to the thick of tapioca and fish. At first I avoided touching fish but it did not go longer as the tapioca began to be disappeared. I decided to break my vow food celibacy. Pungent smell of fish deepened. But I did not care. Food is basically a survival material and choice of likes and dislikes depends on plenty. The refreshing bowl of humble food kept us going for several hours to come. So we expressed our gratitude to them with a smile as they refused our money. We felt abashed to do so for everything in city is all about money but in village things mostly go free of this pollution. They soon invited us to several of their kith and kin who were perching on different locations of the hillocks. They had no out side experiences except for the weekend buying and selling at the village market. The produce from the hillock sold while the outdated fashion items and grocery products were avidly bought. Almost a barter system. They began to tell certain anecdotes from them sprung the names of several places. They are like what you have in Aesop’s fables. The eerie stories of ghosts and demon Gods wooing earthly dames, the cannibalistic ghosts used to wait for lonely travelers in the night; each of such locations took the name after the haunting spirits who have special reigning spaces. No other spirits had right to cross. During the special nights the villagers offered sacrifice to these spirits to spare humans from being eaten. After spending several hours with these simple people we bade farewell and returned to our city abode. The return journey was not as vapid as it would I feared, Thanks to the steamy stories and tapioca of these simple people.

Further Information

Other helpful information: Going by bus is a low cost option. But a private vehicle can give more sightseeing opportunities.

Must see/do at this place: Pukode Lake. Water falls at several places, the deep forest, the habitats of the jungle dwellers.

You should avoid here: Dont be city slickers, so merge with people.