A funeral and calves that ran away.

Yeah death features prominently in one more post after the previous one. 

This time, the gentleman who died peacefully in a coma - while the care givers stood aside wringing their hands in frustration, confusion and consternation - was claiming his right to be buried in the church grounds. But for that, first his body had to be released from the mortuary where it was lying in state (quite a pathetic one at that) after the post mortem.

The gentleman’s brother was on his way to the mortuary to transport him to his final resting place. Then he received this call “Mr. V, someone has untied your calves from their peg and they are not to be found since morning”

“Bloody m*#*#* f*#*##s”, Mr. V cried. 

The 4 calves were one of the precious investments from his meager income. These calves would be left to wander around his house (and his neighbours’ too) eating whatever and whenever they wanted (thus saving precious money on cattle feed). In a month’s time, they would have blossomed (?!?) into young, meaty bulls who would then be sold to prospective buyers/ butchers. While the calves where inexpensive to buy, the grown bulls were highly priced and would have earned him a handsome amount. While the calves were left to satisfy their wanderlust in the day time, at night, one calf was tethered to a peg anywhere on the grounds of the house. As if taking the cue, the remaining calves would automatically go into a huddle around this tethered calf and stay put for the night. In short, there was no need to chase and tether each calf independently, thanks to their herd mentality.

On this not-so-very-fine morning, some miscreant overcome with jealousy at Mr. V’s potential prosperity in the near future, had let loose the one calf which was tethered. The net result was that all the 4 calves had run off in 4 different directions, making Mr.V rush home spewing the choicest expletives. His brother could wait; after all, the dead were dead and they can comfortably bide their time, but the living were condemned to running around to make ends meet and feed mouths and had no time to waste.

Thus Mr. V deputed a few of his friends to escort his brother to the cemetery while he set about to chase his runaway calves. These new set of gentlemen, down on their luck (& finances) presented their blank looks and empty pockets to the morgue attendant who demanded money to give our original GentleMan a fresh makeover with a new set of clothes. These gentlemen now waited, sharing their cup of woes with each other while Mr. V went about chasing his calves. Finally, when the 4 legged lads were all tied up together, Mr. V turned up to redeem his brother from the cold confines of the freezer and take him to the hallowed grounds of the church cemetery for the customary RIP.

*** THE END (pun intended) ***

Family is fun & cranky!

This seems to be the season of family get togethers. I just attended 2 in 3 days.

Two conversations from either side of my family:

We were all gathered with my uncles, aunts and cousins from my mother’s family. The occasion was my grandfather’s 12^th death remembrance. One of my uncles expressed his desire that next April my 

 grandmother is turning 80 (i.e based on anecdotal evidence; even she doesn’t know which year according to the English calendar she was born), so we should have a grand celebration of her 80^th birthday.

Grandma: “Who knows, I may not be alive till then. No need to plan it now itself”

Uncle: Don’t worry, if you’re not alive we will celebrate it as your adiyanthiram (the 7^th day of death commemoration feast)!

Laughter all around as my grandma looks comforted.

                                ************

A get- together on my father’s side of the family. My cousins are spread out in various cities of the country, in US & UK. This made me remark to my niece,

Me:  “If you want to go anywhere in the world, just let anyone of us know, we will take care of everything”.

My niece (without blinking): I want to go to Africa

Me: Err…. Sorry, I’m not coming with you.

My sis: Don’t worry, we will drop you at the airport.

                             

                                  ***********

The Crowd Commentary

In the US consulate for Visa interview; some sights:

A lady in her late thirties dressed in a green sari. She had a gold chain around her neck comprised of two thick strands which reached till her tummy. May be she wanted to impress the Visa officer with her show of plenty. May be that would keep him/her from enquiring about the financial affordability of her visit to US!

The young wife who sat next to me, who will be flying Etihad with her hubby to Chicago. Thanks for making that small talk to me which soothed the small wannabe butterflies in my stomach. Also, it made me feel better and confident when I saw the response in your face when I told "Harvard".

The old grandma Vasantha Bhoopathy, whose name I know because I filled up your passport delivery form. Hope you got your passport. Mine is nowhere in sight.

The young girl who came out dressed in the chic office attire of beige trousers, black top and a bright red necklace. I'm sure the VO was distracted by the red of your necklace.

The men, boys and guys. Who notices them who are dressed in drab trousers and shirts?! One however did not escape notice -it would have been difficult not to notice - when he was dressed in a blazer and tie in the sweltering Chennai heat.

All those young guys and girls who came out smiling and were received by their moms and dads with warm embraces and proud faces.

Those hapless fellows who were swamped by auto drivers the moment they stepped out of the consulate with the bewildered look on their faces like prisoners who came out of solitary confinement.

A confluence of dreams, dejection, aspirations, prayers.

A Yahoo moment

I did a small Yahoo!! Yippee!! Hurrayy!! in my mind last day when I read this announcement in the newspaper. The Indian government has announced the development of an indigenous Rotaviral vaccine which can be made available in the market at just Rs 50, that is just US$1!!

As a public health persona, I can't help but contain my glee and excitement at this most welcome piece of new. This is most welcome news when you consider the fact that the currently available vaccine costs approx. Rs 1250, that is 25 times more than the new one!

It is definitely a yahoo moment for Indian science and technology, the India government's biotechnology dept having played a significant role in its development. I hope sincerely that this vaccine comes out with flying colours in all its trial phases and gets licensed fast. Yes, a vaccine is not the answer to lack of sanitation and safe drinking water. But it can definitely play a role in plugging the holes, to whatever small extent possible. Now that it will be available at a lower price, a lot more children who were kept out because their families could not afford it, can be brought into the safety net. At Rs 50, it is still out of reach to a large sectino of the opulace who subsist on less than $1 (Rs 55) a day. Lets hope that the govt can induct this vaccine into its immunization schedule and make it available to everyone free of cost.

Travel travails

After a tiring journey, I din't have enough energy to even pick up my bag from the floor. Looking at it lying there, I felt it kind of reflected my state of mind (& body) too. Well, we where just waiting for the doors to open. the swipe cards given by the reception were not quite working. So I had all the time in the world to click this picture. (Well, the ulterior motive was that I wanted to show off my bag desperately).

My bag crumpled up, jus like me....

Blues and reds

 I have been kind of obsessed with this blue bottle since I saw people drinking from it. It gives off a 'I'm cool' vibe.So I've been trying to photograph it from all angles and all situations possible, yeah , even if it is uncalled for. so this is a pic of it sitting side-by-side with two red apples. I wanted too put a green Granny Smith apple in the pic, but it happened to be resting cozily in my stomach at that moment, so that plan didn't quite take off.

Then I again clicked it sitting quietly by the hotel window. Well , you might have to look that extra bit hard to spot it. But it's there, right in the middle...

Spot the bottle?

Yeah, the answer to the pic above!

The transition from winter to spring is not really a pretty sight for me, who come from places with evergreen forests. The sight of bare trees with not a single leaf on them is depressing at times.

Looks like they are sending up prayers to the sky

‘The Bad Girl’ at the interview

They were just about to let me go when, may be for lightening up the mood, the epidemiologist in the interview panel asked me “What are your hobbies?”. True to my soul, I replied “I read a lot and I love quizzing”’. 

Suddenly she asked, “Tell me the name of the last book you read”. 

 I wracked my brains for 5 seconds and stammered the only name which came to my mind at that point of time, “The Bad girl”, I told. 

“Who is the author?”, she persisted. 

I was in the dilemma of my life now. I told,  “Mario…(Vera? Varga? My brain hit the search mode with no luck)…...ehh, um,... I’m not getting the rest of his name”. 

Pause. 

Not one to give so easily, I blabbered, “He is Argentinian, He’s a Nobel laureate too. He’s actually a contemporary of Gabriel Garcia Marquez… I’m sorry, I don’t remember the rest of his name”. 

The bibliophile in me would never pardon me if I got his name wrong, so I could not and would not lie about it; that would be blasphemy. But I would not back down without a fight, so I thought it better to give pointers about who the author may be by mentioning his whereabouts. May be the interview board would have thought that I would go on with his biography if they din’t stop me right there and then. So they told me politely, “You can go now.”

I came out. I took two steps in a disoriented fashion. I had let myself down by not remembering the name of the author. I was a shame to the quizzer community of the world. Screw the rest of the interview.

Suddenly, in a flash, it came to me, “Llosa. Vargas Llosa. Mario Vargas Llosa ”. “Yippee…!!” my mind did a small somersault to itself. I turned back to go to the interview room. I had to redeem my pride, I had to tell them that I knew. 

Just then, one of the panel members emerged from the room. He din’t look like he cared. He hadn’t blinked when I mentioned the book’s name. There was no flicker of recognition when I mentioned Argentina or Nobel prize or even Marquez… For him and the others in the room, The Bad Girl could have been just another Mills & Boons book for all they knew, as the title seemed to suggest.

But for me, it mattered that I could remember, that I did not forget. I had redeemed myself in my eyes. I walked out feeling good, thinking of the actual Bad Girl that Llosa wrote about, about Marquez, One hundred years of Solitude and Love in the times of Cholera….




PS:It also didn't matter that later Llosa turned out to be a Peruvian and not from Argentina as I had claimed!




 

The Different colours of Spring

Spring has announced its arrival in Bangalore by breaking out into a melange of colours. The few trees that have managed to survive the onslaught of man;s greed as well as that of the metro rail construction have trumpeted the turn of time by bringing forth the colours they were harbouring in their bosoms around the year.

s

The yellows and pinks of Spring

This is just outside my office. The trees are almost bare , no leaves, only flowers adorning their squiggly branches.

The entire ground has become carpeted with flowers...

Floral carpet

Demystifying psychiatrists/ psychiatry

R has 'officially' been awarded degree as a qualified psychiatrist. 'Officially' because I believe he has been doing that since time began (in retrospect, yes, even while we were courting). Just that, now he is legally licensed to do it! Oh, I can't believe that I am married to a psychiatrist; me - who once hid behind a newspaper so that a psychiatrist in the room would not see my face and read my thoughts straightaway! Well, that was way before I got into medical school. Once in med school, I saw that our psych. profs were just normal looking people; they are not mind readers of any kind; they don't hypnotise people at will; they don't look or dress weird; these were just myths which society and media had perpetuated. Now I get irritated when people make supposedly witty comments about psychiatrist also having gone mad having treated so many mad patients. But then psychiatry is not about being 'mad' per se... Aren't we all mad at some time or the other - with anger,  grief, dejection, jealousy?

In the layman's perception,  psychiatry = treatment of madness. But in reality it is concerned with the treatment of many mental conditions like mood disorders, anxiety disorders, eating disorders, OCD etc... What we title as 'madness' may be schizophrenia or any other of those psychotic disorders. The patients who seek help from a psychiatrist aren't always 'mad'- they may be depressed or delusional or obsessive or anxious individuals who need medical help.

The slogan I saw on a billboard near the bus stop recently was " Depression is treatable". It is a matter noteworthy because, what we were taught in med school was that "TB is treatable"; no one even bothered to mention about depression or  psychiatric disorders and the stigma associated with them. In that light, it is really commendable that the Ministry of Health & FW has woken up to this huge problem in India and started taking the baby steps towards sensitizing the public about the condition. The stigma associated with going to a psychiatrist's clinic is so huge that people will rather prefer to suffer in silence than taking their loved ones to one.

Bottom line: 
Psychiatry is not equivalent to being 'mad'.
Psychiatrists are normal people too... (oh yes, ask me).

Stir fried Potatoes

Yellow, green, brown...

I am posting this just for the sheer fun in enjoying the colours in this photo.
The bright yellow of the potatoes (turmeric is the secret),
The vivid green of the curry leaves,
The various shades of brown of the fenugreek seeds and fried onions, and the coconut coated with red chilly powder,
The occassional black dots of the mustard seeds...

I had added sambar powder to this potato stir fry and it gave a wonderful spicy taste. The onions and the fenugreek seeds were fried to a crisp which gave the occassional crunchy texture too. We loved it and gorged on it.

Three women at work

All in a day's work

I saw them on my way to the office; three women who also were on their way to work. They were selling these long brooms, as you can see, mounted on their petite shoulders. The lady in the sari (the middle one), also had a baby sleeping on her shoulder (not visible in the pic ) while she deftly balanced the brooms on her head.
These brooms are often around 6 feet long. If you are wondering what is the use of a broom 6 ft long, it has a unique purpose in India. It is used for removing cobwebs sitting pretty on unreacheably high corners of the roof in houses, offices etc. Trust me, they are more efficient and easy to use than you vacuum cleaner for roofs. I have tried using vacuum cleaners to gobble up the spider webs and suck the runaway spiders into the vacuum bag with a wicked glee. In the first place, the vacuum tube will not be long enough to reach high  roofs. Secondly I have to stare up with my head and hands pointing at the sky to aim the tube at the runaway spiders till my neck and arm muscles ache but to no avail.
With this broom, its so damn easy. First of all, they are so light weight and user friendly, esp. for lightly built people like me. Next, the bristles are arranged in a fan shape so that you can cover a lot of area in a single swipe unlike the vaccum tube opening of a few centimeters. The thickly arranged bristles also provide for more efficient squatting of the wannabe runaways.
Thus in ways more than one, these three women carry a very useful and totally indigenous device for keeping your homes clean.
Oh, and more pros are coming in now; this broom will cost you only a fraction of what a vaccum cleaner will cost (Rs 20 Vs Rs 2000); they are totally environment friendly; consumes no electricity/ fuel; they are totally plastic free; you can also use them to pluck mangoes (when its mango season) or guavas or some such fruits from trees. Thus its truly a multi-purpose , user friendly and environment friendly device.

PS: I almost sound like an online sales rep for these women, too bad they don't that I'm at it. :(

The shoe repair man

At the bus stop near home, there sits a man who repairs shoes. He has appeared there since the last 1 - 2 months or so. Initially when he started sitting there, I wondered whether he would ever find any customers. But I soon realized my folly and why he was in the right place at the right time. He had very prudently picked his place. It was bang next to a busy bus stop which saw heavy footfall at all times of the day. It was close to a couple of schools and colleges. With that many feet in the vicinity, surely somebody is bound to walk around with footwear which needs mending, broken straps which need a stitch or two, worn out soles which need replacement. Proving his business acumen true, he is quite a busy man these days. Whenever I pass by, I see him stitching or sewing or applying glue, with a customer or two waiting patiently nearby. Even one of my shoes came undone at the sole one of these days and I found myself limping past him in my half-split-open-at-the-toe shoe trying not to catch his eye. Nowadays, it would seem like what our area was doing without a shoe repairer all these days.He has merged unobtrusively into the landscape.

He is a dark and wiry man,always wearing a white shirt darkened with time and dirt. He has a small cloth bundle next to him, which I always imagine contains his life's possessions. I have even contemplated where he was before he came to our area, whether he is remaining thin because of retro infection (stereotyping on my part; it could be a plain and simple case of  no-money-to buy-anything-to-eat), how much he earns per day and so on.

Today as I passed by him, I found my self remembering what someone told me some time back. When asked why we Indians cannot manufacture good quality shoes which wont get damaged within a month or 2 of use, one Indian retorted, "Then what would all the poor cobblers who make a living out of repairing our damaged shoes do for their livelihood?" So true, I found myself thinking today.

PS: I wanted to take a pic of him and all his tools which he spreads out on a cloth in front of him. But I was not very confident of my clandestine photo snapping skills and abandoned the idea. On an ideological level, is it proper to make 'poverty porn' out of someone's struggle to eke out a decent living?

This is how we help our poor countrymen to earn a living!

In this Pic, I'm trying to show my only 6 month-old shoe which came off at the sole. [I'm also trying to show off my mint green nail polish ;) ]

The seedy Delhi (under)belly

It has turned out to be the incident that shook Delhi most since the Anna Hazare fast. Day after day, crowds are turning out relentlessly to protest the brutal rape and assault which happened inside a Delhi private bus. So much so that even my usually 'oblivious to any thing not trending in FB' BIL also voiced his concern on the heinous incident. What I want to write about it is not clear, all I know is, I should not fail to write about it. It is almost passe and mundane to write about how tough it is for women to walk on the streets or use public transport. It is so common that it does not even count as a mentionable expereince. May be what caused the outpouring of outrage over this particular was that probably it was gruesome even by Delhi standards. Rape is an everyday matter in Delhi and even as I write now, 2 cases of rape of a 3 yr child and a 40 yr woman is trending on news channels.

After the news about 'Amanat's' rape broke, for days together, R and I would talk about it with disbelief. We would discuss how those men could do this so cold bloodedly? We talked about how these thugs should be made to suffer for the rest of their lives so that every living moment, they would regret what they did. Even if you are drunk, how can you inflict so much damage so as to rupture the intestines? If they were these base animals when drunk, they could not have been any less filthy vermin when sober. The very thought of her physical condition was painful to me and I avoided thinking of the trauma she would have gone through.Over days, as she struggled on the ventilator, I wondered why she should remain after all this, for society would never allow her wounds to heal, atleast not mentally.  It was heartening to hear that she was a fighter and remaining alive and weaned from ventilator. But now septicemia is setting in and it will take all the prayers and miracles to keep her alive.

What use is tougher laws, dress codes death punishment for rape, removing tinted windows from buses and other token measures when attitudes wont change? Today this happened in Delhi. But this could happen anywhere in India. A mob assaulted a girl in Guwahati and few months later, the same has happened to a Manipuri theatre artist in Bangalore too. India is no country for women.

The search for Inspiration

There was a phase a few weeks back during which I was going crazy about nail polishes! Yes, and that's the same me who did not own a single nail polish for close to three years. Gasp. This time I decided to go online to purchase since the stores often did not stock up on the shades I liked. I decided to do some research before I actually decided to take the plunge and order them online. After all, I have to know if the red nail enamel I am going to spent my money on is actually going to scare me off when I see it the first thing in the morning.

Thus it was quite accidentally that I stumbled onto the huge online community of Indian beauty bloggers and sites like makeupandbeauty.com, peachesandlblush.com, where people have actually posted pics of makeup products which they have used on themselves. It amazes me that there are these blokes who would actually spent time & money buying these products, trying them on, take pics and post them for the benefit of others. It was quite a big help to me to see how the colours would come out, whether they actually resemble the shades as claimed online. After substantial research I went ahead and bought 3 shades (*gasp*), orange (remember, I was crazy), bright red and a beautiful pink. The same day I received the shipment, I tried on the orange enamel. Needless to say, it was as crazy and eye popping as I imagined, but I have loved every moment of having it on. It somehow reminds me of summer, sun, sun light, all things warm and cozy.
This is the pic I clicked of it.

Orange orange...

 For anybody who cares, this shade is called Laranja citrico, from Maybelline colorama series. I was quite satisfied with the result as it closely resembled the pics from real life users which I had seen in other sites I mentioned here.

Yes, now coming to the title, I was going through one of the sites mentioned above and found that it is owned by a lady who also works in an office and has makeup blogging as her passion and hobby. (It is another matter that she appears to have deep pockets too). I was quite smitten by the fact that she could identify what was her passion in life and follow it diligently so early on, in her early 20s. This set me thinking what would I take up as a passion if I were in her shoes, what I would follow as a serious hobby despite all the demands on my time? Hard to tell as of now. Well, its never too late in life to recognize what could be your passion and inspiration. I take solace from the fact that Capt. KrishnaMenon was 65 years old when he started the Leela Palace chain of hotels! So I'll wait and be on the lookout :)

Shame, Shame Ireland

In India, women deliver at home, they deliver in the autos while on the way to hospital, in ambulances. Sometimes they deliver babies even on the doorsteps of hospitals because the hospital sentry did not allwo them to enter the hospital. We have a maternal mortality of around 250/ lakh which comes to a staggering number of 250,000 maternal deaths (well, I might have missed a couple of zeroes). So if Savita Halappanavar had died in India, she would have been only a blip on the map of maternal mortality in India. but unfortunately, she died in Ireland, where the MMR is 6/ lakh! And it is a country with a mere population of a mere 4.5 milliion. Are you kidding me?, Bangalore has 10 million people, and India has 1000 million.

A mother and newborn in a district hospital in Karnataka.

It is a tragedy of enormous proportions when a mother dies in a developed country like Ireland because of lack of medical care. And that too because of trivial religious excuses. "This is a Catholic country", is what her husband was told by the doctors who refused to terminate her pregnancy. I would consider this as a case of medical negligence. Any doctor is bound by the Hippocrates oath and the Geneva convention which urges you to save the life of the patient irrespective of religious or racial/ethnic concerns. If a doctor waited to terminate a pregnancy and endangered the life of the mother because of it, he/she is guilty of failing to provide the expected standard of care. They cannot hide behind the excuse of the country's laws and rules. After all, what law is there which outlaws saving the life of a person?

Will this happen in India? Yes, why not? Here patients lose eyesight after cataract surgeries in camps, women are sterilized by scamsters and ward boys give injections. Anything can happen in India. But no hospital waits for the foetal heartbeat to stop before deciding to terminate the pregnancy. It is plainly an outrage. As Savita's mother lamented "You sacrificed the life of my 30 year old daughter to save a 17 week old foetus".

Now the Irish government is on record offering all help for Savita's husband to rebuild his life. What are they gonna do? Provide him with women to date so that he can select a suitable wife? How does a government help to rebuild the vaccuum left by the loss of a spouse? A responsible government should have never let that happen in the first place. And to this moment, the Irish politicians are evasive and dilly-dallying about legislating to make abortions legal. How many more lives have to be lost for them to wake up and act? Shame on you Ireland.

What's (not) in my bag?

It is a common joke to contemplate what you may find in a lady's bag. They say you can find almost an entire house inside the hand bag! Initially it used to be funny for me before I decided to throw away my old bag and empty the contents so that I could transfer them to a new one I just recently brought. I had a mini-shock to see the things which spilt out of my handbag, stuff I din't know I owned, other stuff which I had taken for granted as lost. .

I found lumps of bus ticket stubs from journeys of yore. Bills from restaurants I ate few months ago. ATM receipts from god knows when. Old toffees which had flattened out with age and pressure of things lying above them A white hairband which I had never used and had turned brown with time.

Buttons from tops which I have forgotten how they looked like, broken off ends of zippers. A packet of face wipes (provided thoughtfully by R) which I always ended up using as hand tissues.

2 wallets (why? why? I keep asking myself), 2 mobile phones (geez). A plastic cover (I really don't know why I kept it there). A comb, an umbrella (ok i get it, when you are from Kerala, you are under a perpetual rain cloud in side your head). A notepad. 2 pens of which I can never find more than one at a time. A pouch with pencils, eraser, sharpener, scale. A set of head phones (what if I have a sudden urge to listen FM radio), well its another matter that they are always out of my bag when I really need them. A lip gloss, a spare sanitary napkin  (for the ever unpredictable female physiology, which has come in handy for a couple of my girlfriends). A bunch of keys from houses and rooms and almiras I moved out months ago.

Given the clutter, I find it difficult to retrieve any given item at any given point of time. Visual inspection is useless and I often resort to stereognosis (thank god for that sensation!) to retrieve any thing. 
 Why cant I de-clutter ?, I often ask myself. But what if I go out and my hair clip gives way, then I need that old white hairband, so goes the line of thought.
 I sometimes envy women who can walk out of their houses with their hands free, like my mom, she as a matter-of-fact, hates handbags.The biggest drawback has been that if I want to go out with another handbag, it takes me 10 minutes to transfer the contents, after all, everything is essential! The solution I came up with - have a bag-within-a-bag, so that all you have to transfer is the smaller bag!!
Oh how so sweetly neurotic.

A Coorg Get away - Stewart Valley homestay

It was on a whim that I decided to stay in Stewart Valley home stay in Madikeri. The inner critic gnawed my thoughts day in and day out questioning whether it was right to risk taking my parents to a place which has not been listed in trip advisor or reviewed anywhere. “What the heck? Let’s go and see” I thought. All I knew when we drove into Madikeri was that it is a red painted house in which Mr.Ganapathy and his wife lived. The house is an old but tastefully re-furbished and well maintained ancestral house. He gave us directions to reach the house (past the TV tower) and was waiting outside the house to make sure we dint get lost (which of-course, we did). But even if he wasn’t waiting, I think we would have identified the house, after all who would miss a huge red-painted house bang on the road? 

The courtyard and garden

Gerberas in the garden

The moment we drove past the gate and stepped out of the car, somehow I felt very relieved. May be it was the sight of the smiling Mr. Ganapathy and his wife Veena, or maybe it was the sight of a beautiful portico and a beautiful garden with flowers, or it was the cool breeze brushing our  sweaty, grimy faces. Whatever the reason was, it was a really cozy, homely feeling that swept over me and I felt relieved that I had chosen rightly. The house is sort of in the middle of the town, just a 5-10 min walk downhill (yes, it’s kind of the highest point in Madikeri town) and you will be walking past Raja’s seat, Gen. Thimmiah circle, the markets, the bus stand, good hotels and everything else. Despite being so close to the town, you are never perturbed by the hustle and bustle, being far removed from the noise and dust of the city. You can simply laze around in the veranda surrounded by the garden and enjoying the view of the hillside, or you can sit in their back yard and do nothing and snooze. We stayed in 2 rooms on either side of the house. This was kind of good; being in a house and at the same, not unncessarily bumping into other people. The bathrooms were extremely neat and clean and modern (yes, we are fussy bathroom people), they had also provided soap etc.etc. The rooms aren’t that big as you would expect in a hotel, but then who would want to remain cooped up indoors in Coorg, when there is so much to see outside?

A what's- its-name climber in the garden with beautiful pink flowers

They give complimentary breakfast and we had kadubu, sambar and a delicious coconut chutney to go with it. R also had some bread and honey. It was a welcome break after all the hotel food we were eating from outside. Veena aunty was always ready with coffee or tea whenever we requested.

Kadubu with sambar

My father had interesting long chats with Mr.Ganapathy. My mother was happily doing rounds of their beautiful garden with vibrant flowers. R even managed to try his hand at Mr.Ganapathy's airgun. He gladly regaled us with vignettes of Kodava culture. He was more than ready to tell us how to drive to Abbi falls, Talacauvery and other places, where to buy wines from and so on. We also had a tryst with Blacky, the family dog who was in a playful mood and had to be dragged back into his cage. We had to leave at 5.30 in the morning and Aunty graciously offered to make breakfast that early also but we declined. I can confidently say that one of the highlights of our trip was our stay in Stewart Valley.

[ PS: the credit for the pic below goes to R, he hinted he would kick my a*# if I dint mention him in the credits ;-) ]

A night view of Madikeri from Stewart valley