India: Travels between Chennai and Cochin

I cannot begin writing about my time between Chennai and Cochin without first thanking Preetha, the woman that made it all happen. A mere week before arriving in India, my mom made the connection that I would be visiting the region of India where Preetha, one of my mom’s coworkers, is from. With that spark Preetha and I emailed back and forth to set up transportation, accommodation, and places to visit. I know that I would not have had such a phenomenal experience if it had not been for her.

 

Two of the girls on the RIDE trip, two girls who had stayed in Chennai, and I planned to leave Chennai together the second night in India around the same time the ship returned to sea. However, one of the girls who had stayed in Chennai had gotten food poisoning and was completely unfit to travel. So we left with four: me, Abby, Bekah, and Andrea.

 

We met Prakash, Preetha’s uncle who lives in Chennai, outside the port. Walking out of the port was an experience, though. As I said earlier we were docked in an industrial port so everything was very hazy and dirty. We left the ship after dark so the fifteen minute walk to get to the entrance was illuminated by lights that glowed ominously. It almost felt as though we were walking through Inferno. Every once in awhile a truck would pass by, but other than that it was eerily quiet.

 

As soon as we reached the entrance, however, Prakash was waiting for us. He was extremely friendly, and he talked about his upcoming trip to America and his children. He said he had two children, one boy and one girl, and when I asked if they were friends he laughed and said, “No… they are worst enemies! The boy is quiet but the girl is ferocious!” He then went on to say that many girls are becoming more independent and outspoken, despite old customs.

 

Prakash showed us some sights, and we drove down a street that he called “one of the most beautiful in Chennai.” We saw the new government building which controls the state of Tamil Nadu. It was bright with lights, and Prakash told us that its inaugural day was tomorrow. Prakash then took us to dinner at a very nice private club, and ordered us some Indian food we hadn’t yet tried. One was a brownish color with some peas and spices that I thought was really tasty, and I also really enjoyed the paneer again. We ordered naan even though Prakash said it wasn’t traditional southern Indian food but it was still delicious. I have to say though the best naan I’ve ever had was at Tandoor in Lexington.

 

After dinner Prakash dropped us off at the train station where we were to travel overnight. He boarded the train and made sure we found our seats, and waited with us until it was time to go. We said our thanks and goodbyes and headed for Coimbatore.

 

The man who sat across from me was quiet at first but then we began talking and I realized that he had a lot to say. His name was Mr. Angou and he was a businessman who worked in making specialized steel parts in India and then selling them abroad in the states or Europe. He told me that recently due to the recession, combined with the growing Indian economy, he has been looking at selling his products in India. We also talked about his daughter, who was on a full scholarship to an international grade school in Singapore. Mr. Angou seemed to realize that his family would likely live all over the world, and accepted this with both sadness at the distance and happiness at the opportunities his children would have.

 

I also asked him about the differences he found between America and India. One of the things I remember him saying was about rudeness and traffic. He said that Americans were polite to each other on the roads but then when they got home they were mean to their family, whereas in India people are terrors on the roads but are always respectful to their family. I thought this was very interesting because first of all many Americans would not consider their traffic habits to be polite (by the way, American drivers are prim and proper compared to Indian traffic) and second of all I wondered about the types of experiences Mr. Angou had witnessed in the American home.

 

We arrived in Coimbatore around six, and Mr. Angou waited with us while we called Adhavaraj (whom we called Raj for short), a family friend of Preetha’s who worked in the tour business. Raj found us right away, and he led us to the car and our driver, Vijay, who would be with us for three days. We went straight to Preetha’s mother’s house in Coimbatore for breakfast. She had a lovely home on the second and third stories of a house in a very beautiful neighborhood. I was out on the balcony for a time and could see huge mountains in the distance. It was wonderful to meet her and have an opportunity to wash up and have breakfast before we left with Vijay for Coonoor, where Preetha’s sister-in-law lives.

 

The drive took about three hours, and went through several villages until the road plunged into the forest and began a steep ascent. Even though a couple of us had drifted off initially, it was impossible to sleep once we started climbing—the drastic turns with unexpected tour buses around the corner were enough to keep us wide awake. In addition, Vijay tried to pass whenever he could, honking to see if anyone was around the corner because we really couldn’t see anything. A few times I was sure that we would run head on into another car, but somehow we managed to squeak by. I asked Vijay if he had any Indian music and he put in a CD that soon became the anthem of our trip. Every once in awhile we would see a family of monkeys along the side of the road, and the combination of forest, monkeys, steep switchbacks, wind in our hair, and Indian music made for an epic car ride. As we got further up the mountain we could see tea plantations which looked like carpets of green blanketing the hills. Sometimes colorful villages perched precariously among the tea plantations, including Coonoor, our destination.

 

Coonoor was larger than the villages we passed but it was still a far cry from a city like Chennai. One of the unique things about Coonoor and the region we were in was that it did not allow plastic. So while the rest of India suffered from the pollution of plastic, the Nilgiri mountain area was virtually plastic free. The word Nilgiri means "blue moutains" and we learned that this name came from the fact that lots of eucalypses trees, whose leaves have a blue tint to them, used to be planted in the mountains. However, they consumed too much water so now tea plantations are dominant.

 

We reached Shridevi’s (Preetha’s sister-in-law) house after briefly getting lost and met her mother-in-law, a very old but charming woman. After a short introduction, we all piled back in the car. Shridevi is a general medicine doctor but often finds more usefulness in yoga and meditation than surgery and medication. She also runs a mobile medical van that visits remote hill stations that do not have a resident doctor several times a month.

 

Shridevi took us first to a tea factory, where we got to see, feel, and smell the tea in different stages of processing. The manager of the plant was her friend, so he led us around and explained each of the steps. Although most of the processing was done by machines, the tea plants themselves were still picked by people because the tea leaves have to be handled very carefully for the flavor to remain intact. In addition, tea flavors are influenced by soil content, elevation, and water, so that even the same plant could produce a completely different result depending on the season or elevation. Therefore, blenders use tea from different growers at different times of the year in order to achieve a uniform flavor. The tea factory we visited did not sell directly to the consumer; instead it sold to the middlemen blenders. Shridevi explained that since the tea market was not as profitable as before, many areas were turning to growing flowers. Sure enough, this plantation grew lilies and sold most of them in Bangalore, a city in south-central India. The air in the factory was rich with tea smell—not exactly the smell I was used to for tea, but more of a combination of woody and tea scents.

 

After touring the plantation we had lunch with the owner of the land. His house was situated with a glorious view of the lush mountains and also had unique flowers planted everywhere. In addition to the owner, we also ate with a visiting businessman. The two of them had a very interesting conversation because the owner was Hindu and the businessman was Muslim so they had a lively, but friendly, argument about some Muslim traditions. The Hindu questioned the Muslim traditions of covering women, while the Muslim man defended their traditions of humility. I felt lucky to be privy to this conversation, especially since it reaffirmed that these types of things could be talked about without any violent clashing.

 

We thanked the tea plantation owner and continued on our way. We traversed narrow dirt roads, with no guardrails of course, and arrived in a village high up in the mountains. We met a man with the kindest eyes I have ever seen who led us around his home. It was simple and compact, colorful but not tacky, and most of all, peaceful. The village had a Hindu temple at its center, and Shridevi explained some of the symbols of the structure to us. Several people followed us around the village, and we also visited the home of some of Shridevi’s friends. They insisted that we take tea, balanced with milk and sweetened with sugar. Shridevi explained that sugar was a sign of hospitality, and as a result a disproportionately high number of people living in the hill stations had diabetes.

 

Shridevi led us to a small building on the outskirts of the village. She explained that this was the site where a famous guru had meditated, so now people make pilgrimages to the place to meditate as well. We stopped to meditate, or at least sit peacefully, ourselves. While I don’t have the experience to really comment on the values of meditation, I did feel very at ease with the world sitting there. I don’t know if it was by the virtue of just relaxing, since so much of the trip has been nonstop action, but I did feel a different emotion than I had experienced so far on the trip.

 

After the village, we headed down the other side of the mountain to Mudumalai National Park. While we had experienced the moss-like covering of the mountain, this area was drier and browner, but really no less spectacular. In addition, if you can believe it (I hardly could), the hairpin turns were steeper and scarier. Before we began the descent, we passed a sign telling of all of the deaths and accidents of the previous three years. I remember that in 2008 fifty people died on the road. And I kid you not, some of the turns must have been at least 160 degrees.

 

When we finally got back to flat ground we were greeted with what I would think of as an African savannah—tall grass, small bushy vegetation, and the expectation that wild animals like elephants and tigers were lurking about. We checked into our hotel, the Blue Valley, but turned around shortly afterward because we were told that we could see the elephants. Sure enough, after a twenty minute drive we saw one. I gasped at the hugeness and gracefulness of the elephant, working side by side with an Indian villager. The elephant was moving logs with its huge tusks for the villager. Soon I realized that the elephant had a metal chain attached to its leg and I wondered about the true relationship between the villagers and the elephants, and whether the elephant suffered from its work. I kept quiet though, I think because I didn’t want to ruin the magic of seeing it move.

 

As dusk was settling, Vijay drove further into the reserve. The outlines of the trees were silhouetted by the glorious sunset, and the area seemed to be shrouded in a haze. However, we spotted a family of elephants: two babies and three adults. They were lumbering through the forest, slowly picking through the grass for food. They appeared as shadowy figures, and watching them glide around was truly spectacular.

 

Seeing the elephants reminded me of something I read about for class. It was an article comparing the progress of China and India. It said that while China’s growth appears fierce and smooth like a tiger, but its government masks underlying problems, India’s growth is clumsy and all out in the open as a democracy, like a stampeding elephant. But with my limited experience with elephants, I just saw their majesty and grace.

 

We had a satisfying dinner at the resort’s restaurant, which was steps away from our rooms. The restaurant was open and comfortable, and designed in a similar style to the rooms, which had high ceilings, brick walls, and thatched roofs. It was not ornate, and seemed appropriate for its setting in a mountain valley.

 

The next morning we left early for a safari. While we were waiting for the group to leave, an Indian family came up to us and insisted that we take lots of pictures with them. One woman in particular pinched our cheeks and then kissed her fingers, and was particularly taken with Bekah. One older man, who didn’t speak English, showed us pictures of people who were presumably his sons. Although we didn’t understand what he was saying, it was pretty clear that he was trying to set us up. In fact, they were so fascinated with us that you would think that they came to the wildlife reserve to see us, instead of the wild animals.

 

We boarded the bus which took us around for an hour. It was noteworthy more for its bumpy ride rather than its wildlife viewing, although we did see a water buffalo and a peacock very close to the bus. We also saw several monkeys swinging around in the trees, but overall things were very barren. There were clear indications that there had been a recent fire, although I don’t know if it was accidental or made on purpose. Shridevi explained that the area had been suffering from drought, and the park had in fact been closed a few weeks before and was closing again the day after we left. She told us we were very lucky girls, and I had to agree.

 

On the way back to the resort, we saw more elephants, maybe a half dozen, who were going down to drink and bathe at the water. They crossed the road so close to us, and were absolutely fascinating to watch. One man riding an elephant let us take pictures with him. Bekah was especially excited; it had been her childhood dream to see elephants so we were all really happy that she could fulfill it.

 

After breakfast and some relaxation time at the resort, we loaded into the car to go back up the mountains. It was still terrifying to go around those hairpin turns, though I didn’t involuntarily flinch at every single one any more. At the top of the mountain we boarded the Ooty sightseeing train and took it to Coonoor, where we met up with Shridevi and Vijay again. The train ride was beautiful, stopping at several mountain villages but mostly riding high above tea plantations. We shared the car with a family of three with a boy probably around seven and a couple from Bangalore who were all very nice. I worried sometimes that since we all were on one side of the car to see the views the train would tip over and tumble down the mountain. It was also funny to go through tunnels because the kids riding the train would yell as if we were on a roller coaster.

 

By the time we reached Coonoor, it was about time for lunch so Shridevi took us to a restaurant in Coonoor. I remember enjoying the somewhat spicy prawn dish, and trying Indian ice cream, which was incredibly creamy and delicious. After lunch we all returned to Shridevi’s house. We met Shridevi’s husband, and reunited with his mother. Shridevi showed us albums of her daughter’s Indian dance performance and wedding. The sari’s for both occasions were gorgeous, as were the dance movements. Shridevi explained that every position held a different meaning, and every part of the body had to be exactly controlled. We also looked at atlases to see both where we had been on our trip and to show Shridevi where we were from in America. Abby was from northern California, Bekah was from Connecticut, and Andrea was from Vermont. It was amazing just to remind ourselves again where we had come from and all of the places we had seen. Shridevi’s brother-in-law also visited. He works in Dubai for an oil refinery but because of the health implications of his job he gets several months off a year to return to Coonoor and enjoy the clean air there. Shridevi explained to me later that many high-paying jobs exist in Dubai but Indians have to decide if working there is worth the lower education for their children and the separation from their home country.

 

Too soon, we had to leave Coonoor to return to Coimbatore in time for dinner. Shridevi had to take her car to be inspected, so Bekah and Abby rode with Vijay while Andrea and I joined Shridevi in her car. Shridevi was a much more conservative driver than Vijay, and it was nice to not have to grip on to the sides of the car the whole way down. But most of all, I enjoyed talking to Shridevi about issues I had rolling around in my head since I had arrived in India. I asked her about the caste system, which she thought should be abolished completely, about the role of women in India, about how Indians are responding to global warming, and about what I can possibly do to help people after everything that I have seen. Shridevi asked two things of me.

 

First, she said that when I establish myself and have extra money, I should mentor a child from a poorer background, and give them the tools that I had to help them raise themselves into a higher position. Shridevi said she had “adopted” seven or eight of these children, and the oldest were currently attending college and were finding people to marry. She said that at first she hesitated telling people about everything she was doing but recently she has realized that the best way to help the world as a whole is to spread the word and encourage people to do good works.

 

Her second request of me was to wake up every morning with the idea that I am a mother to the earth. I asked her what she meant by this and she said (approximately) “A mother loves unconditionally, even if her child does a terrible wrong. A mother can always forgive her children. We must forgive the earth for its past mistakes and everyone in it. With this love, we can finally have peace around the world.”

 

I loved hearing this kind and wise woman talk, and soon we were back in Coimbatore. After a quick stop we went out to look at saris and eat. We were joined by Raj and his wife, who we learned was three months pregnant. They looked very happy together and Raj’s wife was glowing. She had jasmine flowers in her hair which smelled amazing, and due to my enthusiasm of them Raj bought us each some jasmine flowers to put in our own hair. We ate at a restaurant and ordered these thin buttery things, I forget now what they are called. Some of them were twisted into the shape of a cone birthday hat. They reminded me of crepes, but were eaten with spicy food.

 

After dinner we returned to Preetha’s mother’s house. Her mother really was too generous and bought us all clothes to take back to America. Before bed, Shridevi taught us some breathing exercises. She was very practiced in meditation and woke every morning at 3:30 to meditate for two hours, and then meditated again around lunchtime and in the evening. She gave us a DVD about yoga and meditation from a famous guru, and also told me about a center in Nashville that she suggested I visit. After this we went to sleep, to wake up at four in order to meet up with the ship when it arrived in Cochin the next morning.

 

We said early goodbyes to Preetha’s mother and Shridevi, and headed to Cochin with Vijay. I tried but didn’t succeed in sleeping, but was fully awake, albeit groggy with experiences, when we arrived at the ship. After some confusion trying to figure out where to go for customs and immigration, we said goodbye to Vijay and embarked the ship. Vijay left us with something to remember him by—his Indian music CD.