Few places in the world have the rare quality of making you feel at home while at the same time providing an escape. In all my journeys, I’ve looked for places that speak to me in a way that transcends language, places that make me feel connected to some strand of the universe. I yearn for newness, to experience feelings unfelt. But I think what I seek most is a romance, one that makes you fall in love wildly with life itself, an affair that fills you with joy for having been lucky enough to have experienced it.
Pollachi and the Anamalais offer the romance that I’ve been seeking: the kind that puts a spring in your step. I don’t have to go to great lengths to find it; it simply exists. It envelops me as I sip my filter coffee under coconut fronds on the terrace of a village house. It flows through in the fluting of the Malabar whistling thrush as it hops on the forest floor. It hangs like the morning mist of the Anamalais that turns into a golden swirling fog in front of a car’s headlights. It kisses my feet as I dip them into the waters of a lake. It lives in the eager anticipation of seeing a rare bird or animal during a trek, in the curiosity that keeps my feet moving.
For a city-bred person like me, maybe the romance also comes from the idea of freedom that I attach to what I see around me. In Parambikulam, the teak trees reach out to the sky, their leaves forming kaleidoscopic patterns against the sunlight. Nilgiri langurs swing from branch to branch, and great Indian hornbills soar across the lush green valley. Peacocks sit pretty, seemingly without much purpose, in the coconut fields of Vettaikaranpudur and Kaliyapuram.
In the monsoons, leeches somersault on the wet leaves, and tigers call out to their mates, echoing the thunder. Children jump into ponds with carefree abandon. My own emotions are reflected in the gushing, uncontrollable rivers that spill into waterfalls. Swimming in the waters of Thoovanam, I feel like I’m a part of the landscape and the ecosystem, even though I’m absurdly alien.
Pollachi is also particularly special to me as it’s here that I first discovered the joy of birding a few years ago. I never thought I’d find myself looking through a pair of binoculars while sitting on a bullock cart, but that morning in the town of Samathur changed my life. And what better place to start this maiden voyage of bird-watching?! As I watched a Pheasant-tailed jacana walk among the pink water lilies, it seemed bizarre to me that I’d never really noticed birds before.
That’s the beauty of traveling with Papyrus Itineraries: their passion is infectious and it’s rewarding to look at the world through their lens. I have much to be grateful for: the introduction of birds into my life makes me feel like I’m never truly alone wherever I go. I now use birds as a color palette reference –” the green of an emerald dove”, or “the blue of a Nilgiri flycatcher”.
I think the sense of belonging I feel here calls me back. (Or maybe it’s that I desperately want to belong!). It’s enchanting and exhilarating, this discovery of a place far removed from your daily life that you so strongly identify with. I walk through the thickly forested islands of Parambikulam, unable to shake off the thrill that elephants and leopards have walked this path the night before.
Driving up the forty hairpin bends of Valparai, I feel like I should hold my breath as I look into the steep valley but I throw my head back and fill my lungs till I feel like they might burst. All this proximity to wild animals and being out in the great outdoors touches a rarely-explored vein; I can safely unleash the impulsive wild child trapped within. Looking at the view from Nallamudi Poonjolai in Valparai I could even believe the ‘Seen God man’ — it didn’t seem unlikely that one could experience some kind of surreal divinity here.
The romance continues in the area’s several villages, many of which are home to cottage industries like jaggery-making and handloom saree-weaving. My fondness for all things coconut, tapioca, and banana–which grow in plenty in this fertile land–only makes things easier. I’ve also been touched by the hospitality that comes so naturally to folks here. I visited the weaver’s village of Negamam unannounced in the pouring rain and, while I made awkward apologetic introductions, I was simply asked if I would like some tea. The majority of the families in Pollachi are agricultural families, who’ve got the collective wisdom and patience of generations who’ve seen flood and drought alongside successful harvests.
Pollachi and its surrounding areas promise the certainty of finding something beautiful, even if you don’t find exactly what you set out to. Every time I visit, I feel like I’m crawling back to the comfort of an old friend. Still, we leave space in the conversation to listen to each other’s new stories and find out what’s changed since we last caught up.
It’s difficult to express in words a place that makes you feel like bursting into song. I think I always circle back to the idea that life is held together by a soundtrack. Through melancholy and joy, adolescence and adulthood, passion and heartache, this piece of earth offers a magnificent orchestra.
For exclusive itineraries to explore Pollachi and Anamalais – https://www.thepapyrusitineraries.in/
