A rainy retreat in the rolling hills of tea countryside

When unseasonal rains wreak havoc on holiday plans, relax with a view of clouds, tea gardens, and long walks amidst nature

- Anita Rao Kashi

The narrow road winds around hill-locks, dipping and rising amidst boundless carpeted greenery that is broken only by an occasional tree. At times the road twists and turns almost dizzyingly, but the surrounding greenery—unending tea estates draped over undulating land in the midst of the Nilgiris on the border between Kerala and Tamil Nadu near Wayanad—is balmy. In early November, monsoon rains have departed but unseasonal rains have other plans.

The sky is a patchwork quilt of grey and white clouds that hang suspended against pale blue. A mild, cool breeze blows through, jostling the clouds which sporadically release a fine misty spray that drops like wispy curtains. It is late morning but the sun stands no chance. Every once in a while, round a particularly tall hillock, a feathery cloud decides to descend and reduce visibility to a few metres, before lifting again.

This remote pocket of Pandalur is almost untouristed and the only traffic is the local variety that heads to and from Gudalur, which is perched far ahead on a gentle incline. More and more, Ralph Waldo Emerson's statement about the journey being the destination feels true. The road zigzags between the two states and a blanket of tea plantations. It passes by little hamlets and villages that are hidden in valleys, offering a montage of images: smoke lazily curling into the sky from an occasional chimney, a school yard with boys playing a raucous game of marbles, a plantation worker on his bicycle with his lunch dangling from the handlebar, a couple of women selling fresh vegetables and greens by the roadside at an intersection, a handful of men perched on a makeshift bench sipping tea at a little shack on their way to work.