Your Monsoon Malabar coffee Ma’am,” said the waiter placing the frothing hot cup right under my nose. A spicy, musky fragrance wafted up my nostrils, smelling of damp earth after the first rains, imprisoning me in its smoky hold. As I sipped it, the liquid hit about 50 notes on my tongue and I inhaled deeply, not willing to forgo this tiny piece of heaven.
Whistling Schoolboy
I am perched on the railing of a balcony in Club Mahindra’s Kodagu Valley Resort in Coorg, gazing down at what looks like a rain forest. Spread over 32 acres, the resort is a botanical haven. Scarlet and purple tropical flowers glisten with dew and set trees aflame as birds fly making an assortment of trills and chirps.
One vividly coloured specimen, locals call it the Whistling Schoolboy, flies to the railing and looks down at my omelette in evident disapproval. Then tilting his head disparagingly, he emits what sounds startingly like a human whistle.
At once, answering whistles reverberate through the forest. Distracted by the call of his mates, my feathered guest decides he has social visits to pay and nose-dives into the ravine.
Coorg is manna for the tired urban dweller. The dense forest cover is fiercely protected by the Kodagus because they believe it is sacred and destroying it will invite the wrath of the Gods. Sometimes, superstition can be wonderful, because Coorg’s natural beauty is completely unspoiled.
At 5,000 ft above sea level in Karnataka, your lungs go into a state of shock at receiving such clean, pure air. Even in the hottest months of the year the evenings call for a light shawl or jacket. The rains make their presence felt through the year, falling with a quietness in the summer that belies its lashing thunderous intensity in the monsoon.