‘Once a Hyderabadi, always a Hyderabadi’, they used to say.
No question, it was the favoured metro city in India, with its ‘ganga-jamuna’
culture. But times are a-changing, with urban sprawl, cancerous growth of
pollution and garbage, noise, dust and
irritability all round. When little Azad arrived, we started a determined
search for a haven – but where? We first thought of Quebec’s eastern townships,
of New Zealand’s south island, and Ireland’s west coast. Then a serendipitous
thought struck us – why go far when the Nilgiris are just an hour’s flight from
Hyderabad? Everyone of us has a special fondness for these hills. The oldest is
reminded of his happy Central-Indian childhood in the midst of jungles and tribals.
The North-Indian son-in-law has loved Nilgiri wilderness ever since a school
trek in the stunning Upper Bhavani region. The daughter is a mountain person,
happiest on a hill, sitting under an ancient tree, looking out at vast green
vistas. Her Telangana mother, who resisted leaving Hyderabad, is drawn to the
healthful tranquility of the Nilgiris.
A serious start was made among the beautiful undulating blue
hills just east of the Western Ghats and its ‘Silent Valley’ rain forest. Our
first base was the 3000 acre Craigmore tea estate. In present times when much is
written about the woes of tea plantation workers this estate is a model of
thoughtful care of workers and their families. Craigmore is also a haven for
wild life, ranging from elephant herds to inquisitive bison coming up to the
guesthouse, and if you are lucky you may even see a tiger! Later, we set out on
our search from the hoary Ootacamund Club, with its parquet flooring,
wood-panelled walls, strict dress codes, and photos of bygone days. English
lords and ladies glared down on us seated on horses of the famed Ooty Hunt.
Though foxes and jackals are no longer chivvied about, capable lady riders are
still honoured as Queens of the Hunt!
We discovered an engaging history of these mysterious hills
written long ago by Frederick Price. The Nilgiris were unknown to the kingdoms
of south India. Only the reclusive Todas and a few other scattered tribes made
their home there. News about this hidden mountain was dismissed by the people
of the plains as myth. The only one who took it seriously was John Sullivan,
Collector at Coimbatore in the early part of the 19th century. His
discovery of the Nilgiris led other English officials to trek up on foot and
horseback, away from the sweltering heat of the plains, to this paradise that
was even better than their fabled Lake District. Ooty was founded at a higher
elevation than Simla and became the summer capital of the government of Madras.
The 100-year old toy-like Nilgiri Mountain Railway still collects passengers
from Madras, and takes them meandering up the hills, through Coonoor, at the
heart of the tea estate country, and past Ketti in a long beautiful valley, to
its terminus at Ooty.
Maharajahs built their palaces in these heights, and
manicured tea estates grew all round. Its famous garden was laid out by William
McIvor in 1848 to a plan prepared by no less than the Marquess of Tweedale.
Every year its flower shows bring tens of thousands to Ooty clogging the roads
for hours. Several schools were established in the salubrious area, the best
known being Lawrence School, named after Sir Henry Lawrence; Breeks after the
first commissioner of the Nilgiris; and Stanes, after Sir Robert Stanes, the
coffee planter. The Lawley Institute
boasted of ‘Assembly Rooms,’ like those in Bath of Regency England. The oldest
in our family still remembers the magic of sixty years ago when he and a girl
took a pine-scented evening stroll to see a 1930’s classic film there!
Post Independence, Ooty and the Nilgiris have suffered much
the same fate as many other beauty spots of India. Land grabbing coupled with
unscrupulous political conniving led to much destruction of the original shola
forests. Fortunately, good sense has now set in and strict environmental
regulations are in place. The same cannot be said about urban planning.
Unplanned growth of ugly structures has been thoughtlessly permitted. The
tourists who come up every weekend, from Coimbatore to the east or Kochi to the
west, do not see the Ooty of their parents but a clustered township. However,
some of the past beauty may still be recovered. Switzerland, which was a
poverty-stricken environmental disaster in the early part of the 19th
century, has reinvented itself as a tourist paradise through strict planning
and community action. Strong citizens’ groups now exist in the Nilgiris and we
shall play our part.
We had almost given up all hope of finding a haven in the
Nilgiris when by a fortunate stroke of luck we happened upon just the spot near
Ketti. The sunrises and sunsets were magnificent with the valley shelving away
to the woods around the old St George’s School and rising on the other side
towards the majestic Doddapetta peak. The place is conveniently within twenty
minutes drive from Ooty or Coonoor, or the Wellington Gymkhana’s picturesque
golf course. The pace of life in the Nilgiris is unhurried, calming to the city
dweller. The people you meet are courteous and friendly, and we are reminded
how enjoyable real community life can be. The historian in you comes to life as
every old bungalow has a charming story to tell, and if you are not yet a
photographer, you will soon be, for a walk down any road is like a stroll in a
park. And we are learning to appreciate the varied fragrances of all the
different kinds of tea there are, and how exciting it is to make your own
cheese. Here, the fruits and vegetables unpolluted with chemicals bring back a
taste we had forgotten.
To keep us cheerful company, we are building a boutique
guesthouse for travellers looking for peace, beauty, and gracious living. We
have light-heartedly named it The Clive
& Curzon, in acknowledgment of the British strand in our colourful
history, which above all helped us rediscover the enchanting Nilgiris.
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