Nilgiri Niche

by Maya Jayapal

It is night time and I can see the silhouette of the hills with their jagged peaks thrusting against a star-dusted sky. On the hillsides, orange flames glow from the huts of peasants guarding their potato crop against the predatory wild boar. The sky is a sheet metal grey with fleecy clouds limned by the light of the moon. The air is soft, hushed.

I am sitting in the veranda sipping coffee. Birds are everywhere on the tiled roof of the low slung, whitewashed plantation bungalow, hopping on the grass, courting each other perched on wires -God's own creatures, signalling that all is well with the world.

The colours in the garden are kaleidoscopic, the red of the poppy, the flaming yellow of the pumpkin flower, the purples and pinks of the asters, the vivid mustard of the sunflower, the deep crimson of the roses, the subdued hues of the alstromeria, marigolds, and the lilies. The sun comes up over the lake in a burst of light, scattering the lilac fronds of feathery clouds.

We are at the Red Hills Nature Resort, about 27 kilometres (45 minutes) from Udhagamanandalam, Ooty to most. In the upper reaches of the Nilgiris or the Blue Mountains, a seven-hour drive from Bangalore, Red Hills is a 118-year-old house built by an Englishman which came into the hands of the present owner's father in 1937.

My host is charming and suave, in his late forties and his lady, Bhanu, gentle and welcoming, with warmth that is at once dignified and soothing.

The house used to be big, Vijay Kumar tells us, it once accommodated 10 children. His father died young and his mother kept the family together until they spread their wings.

Most of them, however, still remain in the area. I look at his mother's portrait hanging over the fireplace in the spacious drawing room, and see the strength of character there. Their ashes are interred in two simple marble squares in a space just below the house, in full view of the lake.

The house has been made over, I am told. The huge dining room is now the kitchen, and parts of the house have been replaced by patches of lawn with flowerbeds which separate the back rooms from the main house.

There are seven rooms in all. Three in the main house, two bedrooms in a picturesque cottage which is the converted garage, one of which has a lovely bay window through which the lake can be seen and two rooms at the back.

The rooms were well appointed, light-filled and airy, with an eye for comfort more than sophistication, I loved the old furniture - the cupboards, the niches with baskets of dried flowers made by the lady herself, and the sepia tinted pictures of the family.

The staff was pleasant and saw to our every need. I asked for hot water in a glass the first day to dissolve my Ayurvedic tablet for an attack of gout, and didn't have to ask for it again. It was brought to me every morning and evening. Obviously the habit of hospitality has filtered down from the hosts. They did what they did, naturally and gracefully.

I quickly fell into the routine of the place, although it took me one full day to get used to the fact that I had no deadlines to meet, no shopping to do, no telephone to answer.

And due to some unforeseen exigencies, no newspapers were delivered while we were there. It was a blessing. Devoid of distractions, I spent a whole morning watching the antics of Prince, a magnificent Alsatian, his little Daschund companion, Becky and a cat, appropriately called Poocha.

Breakfast, is outside, al fresco, in the front lawns. The Emerald Lake is not full but is a sight to behold nevertheless, a clear mirror at the bottom of green hills. Behind, the hills rose, covered in their perennial carpet of trees and tea bushes.

A gentle breeze blows and we help ourselves to fresh fruit juice, toast and eggs to order, puri potato, soft idlis steamed with coriander leaves and mustard seeds, dosas and uthappams.

Lunch and dinner are served inside the dining room, sandwiched between the drawing room and the sitting room in front. A sumptuous repast: rice and chappathis, vegetable dishes made with home grown produce, and fruit for dessert, stewed pineapple fruit salads, and a mouth watering finale - an orange caramel custard.

In a little clearing below the house, nestled at the foothills, is a small round temple on a pedestal.

An adorable Nandi sits in front of it, though it is a Krishna temple and a mural depicts the blue god cavorting with his gopis.

We took long walks within the tea estate, along the tussocked hillsides, or just around the undulating hills to the next plantation. Our host recommended a trip to Upper Bhavany to the dam and to the trout hatchery. he assured us that we would see some game there and that he would provide a packed lunch.

One could also go down to Coonor or Ooty, but they would be full day trips, and the roads are not too smooth. A memorable ride would be on the nostalgic toy train (Nilgiris Mountain Railway) from Mettupalayam at the foothills to Ooty.

The route negotiates 208 curves, winds through 16 long tunnels and crosses bridges over ravines and bubbling streams at a snail's pace so that travellers can revel in the scenic countryside.

If I were to go back, I would stay two or three more days (we stayed three) and let the gentle ambience soak and work its healing magic on my city soul.