Tripping Across the Ghats: Sringeri to Udupi

The bus ride took me over thick green hills and more winding hairpin bends than I could count. Not that I wanted to. Me was more content listening to the bickering villagers in the tightly packed minivan and watching the unbelievably fertile countryside whizz by. The air was full of the scents of the rain past. The soil was green  everywhere with not a barren patch. Life was abundant everywhere. And it wasn't keeping quiet. The trees chirped and parroted and screeched and squeaked with each passing bend. The crickets had began their program for the evening. The fireflies were warming up for their performance and he in the van hurtling down the hill towards the seacoast was sleepy with the contentedness that comes from a day well spent.

The battered van was sardine packed with locals going home after a long day in the town. There were schoolkids and young collegians, office workers, and villagers with huge baskets and tin containers and cloth bundles. There was a withered wrinkled old gent with three members of the poultry race in a wire mesh box. The honorable members of the poultry race was dozing without any care in the world. And certainly not of the of the tumbling, rolling box of steel they and their master were travelling in. Pushed up against me were three schoolkids who looked more happy in the van than they ever would have in any school in the world. Hanging out of the door in the approaching sunset were two lanky youths in tight polyester, with a long notebook each in their hands, trying to look nonchalant and cool while eyeballing their long haired plaited college mates. And then there was the in-house music, a mishmash cassette of tunes i hadn't expected to hear in this part of the country at least. For the period of my journey, the ghats echoed with the sounds of Sajan Chale Sasural, Sukhbir hits from the 90's, Aashiqui, Mungaru male, Old Illayaraja melodies and even a Chiranjeevi hit which i dont remember the name of now. Thu on me anyways.

Agumbe came and Agumbe went. The famed sunset point was choc-a-bloc with sunset watchers with their SUVs and village folk trying to make a extra buck off the dumb city folks. The school kids were fast asleep, one of them almost in my lap by the time we made it down the hills to the plains. Reminds me of this one time  i took a bus ride from hubli to dharwad or was it the other way round? It was a pretty broken down Rajahamsa and my sole companions on the last seat of the bus were these 4 hyper active, desi ghee brand kids who owned the driver as their mama and were using the bus to kill time on a hot dry sunday. Needless to say, a good time was had by all. Me and the kids that is. Kids outside the metros are quite the real deal i would say. None of the snootiness, and all of the honest to goodness of  how a childhood should be. The trip ended with me taking a few decent shots of them kids and a promise to mail them their pics as soon as i got back to Bangalore.

Coming back to my trundling over the ghats in a van older than my youngest uncle - darkness became pitch black outside the van. The only light being from the fireflies and the LEDs of the ancient music system which was groaning out old Tamil numbers about being a loving hugging family and the virtues of village life. My co-passengers had calmed down, most of them snoring in various levels of decibel. The honorable poultry was awake, but considering the time of the day and the general mood of the van, thought it better to stay quiet. Good choice of action i say.

I had left Sringeri after lunch. Had reached there just around 7 am in an enchantingly misty morning. After finishing up with both the temples, i ventured a walk down the bride over the Tungbhadra, watching the people feed the giant salmon and dip their feet in the holy waters. Beyond the bridge lies the ashrams and all the holy mercedes and the holy elephants and horses and other holy stuff that modern day seers like to anoint themselves with. Beyond that is a unpaved village way that extends into the fields, skirting the river. I walk upto the river bank taking pics along the way of the river, of the temple complex, and of the kids having fun in the river. Of course, they would start waving out to me the moment they saw the camera. Well jumping into a river and having the time of your life isn't something we city slicks can do on a given day, except in a place like Sringeri.

The village path took me down into a thick little forest of bamboo and jackfruit and what not, houses with mangalore tiles, roofs with sun network dishes, newly shaved fields, curious dwarf cows, and
not a soul anywhere on the streets. Came back to bus stand and
took the above mentioned van to my next stop, Udupi, the temple,
and of course the beach there.

The beach was a revelation. To someone who's beaching experiences have been limited to the sand pits of Chennai, and the airy expanses on Varkala, and the sticky black sand of kovalam, Malpe beach at Udupi was literally a bottle of pure oxygen flavored with lavender and cinnamon. And the clear clear Sand. And the So Good Looking Water. And the Carnival with the ferris wheel and the air gun shooting range and the toy train and the weird exhibits and what not.