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Two bikers brave the elements and bratty bus drivers to explore a land of myths and controversies. A ride that took them through the scenic landscape of Tamil Nadu while experiencing the state’s rich culture, heritage and way of life.

We planned a ride that would take us from Kottayam in Kerala to Dhanushkodi at the tip of India. We would cruise through charming agricultural villages watered by Periyar and Vaiga. What we never planned was the rain that became our constant companion throughout the journey.

Dhanushkodi is a land where myth and history lie entwined. It is the land spoken of in legends and commands an important place in the Hindu mythology. This tiny strip of land had become the centre of a tumultuous political and religious controversy that rocked the country not too long ago. The brouhaha surrounding the construction of the Sethusamudram Shipping Canal Project* has still not ended.

' Dhanushkodi is a land where myth and history lie entwined. It is the land spoken of in legends and commands an important in the Hindu religion 'When we started from Kottayam at 5:30 in the morning the road was slightly shrouded in mist. The town was in the lazy haze of a Christmas dawn with blinking Christmas stars shining from every corner. The road to Kumali was deserted except for a vehicle carrying Sabarimala devotees in their characteristic black attire.

Peculiar houses in Idukki hillsides

After passing the town of Mundakkayam there was a steep gorge on the left side. A number of small houses dotted the sides of the valley. A lone church stood amidst neatly arranged rubber plantations. Winding muddy roads ran up and down the hills. All these mesmerising sights are nothing but a natural part of life in the high range villages of Idukki. In the light misty morning the whole village looked like it had arisen out of the imagination of an artist, a beautiful painting.

We rode through the narrow side of a lofty hill. There were houses only on the left side and most of them had many storeys. This is a peculiarity of most modern houses of the mountainous villages in Idukki. The basement and other lower storeys basically act as props that hold up the top storey which is at road level. The top storeys are built with bedrooms, kitchens and other facilities and the lower storeys are mostly used as storerooms.

In Kuttikkanam town we were greeted by enormous mountains blanketed in lush grass. There wasn’t a single tree on those mountains. These grassy meadows and hills form the main attraction here. There were many tea plantations nestled between these mountains with dense clusters of coniferous trees mysteriously surrounding them. People were dressed in warm woollens and walked with an occasional shiver. It was cold and the mist wasn’t helping either.

Hot tea from tea gardens

From Pambanar onwards we were travelling through a series of flourishing tea plantations but when we reached the Peerumedu area most tea plantations were in a state of ruin. These once prosperous plantations are now closed.

We stopped at a small junction between Peerumedu and Vandiperiyar to have some tea. A tiny shack covered with a plastic sheet was the teashop. The woman there prepared tea for us. The tea she gave us was so flavoursome that it introduced us to the glorious days of the Peerumedu Tea Industry. It was unique in the way in which the tea was made; first she poured the tea in a glass and then poured more of the strong brew on top of the froth. Each sip brought a strong flavour that was refreshing to our palates.

Rain, rain and more rain

A drizzle had already begun when we reached Vandiperiyar. The rain was so light that we didn’t think then that it would accompany us throughout our three day journey. It was not a surprise as a rainy morning greeted us in Kumali. We stopped the bike near the check post of the Kerala state sales tax office. Here people were alighting from buses coming from Tamilnadu. There was a large amount of cargo bound to the top of those buses. Some were unloading and smuggling them over to Kerala through a small path through a cemetery nearby. We were astonished at this blatant illegal transfer that was taking place right behind the sales tax office.

We began to note the differences in roads and surroundings when we left Kumali to reach the Tamilnadu roads. The roads were comparatively better and there were signboards and reflector posts alongside. But there were shadowy woods as an ominous presence on both sides of the road. Soon we came by the Irachilpalam waterfalls. It is the main part of the canal from which the state of Tamilnadu takes water from river Mullaperiyar. If water is not available from Mullaperiyar the farmers in Theni and Kambam will not be able to continue farming. The water from the river has been used by these farmers for more than a century now and the recent disputes among the two states on water sharing and dam has put them in trepidation. Mukka is one such farmer whom we met in the village of Chellumpatti near Theni.

Mukka’s story

' He pointed to an area flooded by rain and said, "This is my farmland". We were dumbstruck as we saw the extent of the damage done 'After passing by Theni we veered off to a small path off the main road. Soon we reached a small tea shop with four or five people sitting around it. We were soaking wet with the heavy downpour when we stopped near the teashop. The conversation stopped when they saw us. An old man with a plastic bag covering his head approached us. His name was Mukka. Before he could speak we introduced ourselves. We explained that we were travellers from Kerala and wanted to visit a farm and know more about the cultivation in the area. Mukka was immediately excited and quickly led us to his farm. It was still raining cats and dogs as we walked to the farm. He had three acres of land under an earthwork. Two and a half acres dedicated to sugarcane and one acre for paddy. He pointed to an area flooded by rain and said, “This is my farmland”. We were dumbstruck as we saw the extent of the damage. The whole cultivation was under water from a single day’s rain and it will be completely destroyed if the rain continues for one more day. “Sir, everything is in God’s hands, some days he would drown us in rainstorms and some days with not a single drop to drink”, Mukka went on with his woes.

He led us back to the road grumbling all the way about the changing patterns of rainfall. There were signs of devastation caused by the rain that developed due to atmospheric pressure all along. In Tamil this kind of rain is called ‘Puyal’. We saw several flooded farmlands, overflowing canals and ruined mud barriers that were erected to regulate water flow in fields.

The soil in Tamilnadu has an adhesive characteristic which does not allow it to absorb water. This is a major disadvantage as all the precious rain water flows away without use. The farmers said that they haven’t seen such a heavy downpour in a long time. December brings in a little rain although the season ends in November. The newspaper headlines screamed stories of devastation caused by the torrential rain. More than sixty had died in the deluge in various parts of the state.

A mishap

The rain was still going strong when we reached Andipatti town in Theni- Madura road. Andipatti is the contstituency of the former chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, J Jayalalitha. Here the roads were deserted except for some Ayyappa devotees walking all the way to Sabarimala in Kerala. They had plastic bags covering their heads and their chants seemed to give them more energy to walk at a steady pace. Suddenly we saw two buses coming straight at us. In their race of death one tried to overtake the other and it would have crashed into us if we didn’t move away. The road was wide enough but if two buses came side by side not even a single person can squeeze through. The bus came straight at us with no intention of moving sideways and my friend Ajilal who was driving, quickly swerved the bike into the dirt track on the side of the road. The bike almost lost control and we crashed next to a bamboo outgrowth. The road was filled with puddles and potholes and we would have been under the bus if we had toppled over. The people in the bus did not throw a second glance at us and raced away. This was one of the problems we faced all throughout our motorcycle journey. The heavy vehicles couldn’t care less about the two wheelers. ‘Save yourself if you want’ seemed to be the general attitude of these brash drivers.

Follow the rail track

There were luxuriant green routes on the way to Madurai. The lush paddy fields and ripe sugarcane plantations were the wonderful sights on the way. Coconut groves dotted the landscape and we could see the mountains peeking out between them. Between the hills and the road a meter gauge rail was running parallel to the road next to the hills. This centuries old rail track connects all the little towns and villages between Coimbatore and Rameswaram. We saw the track for hours in this route but still did not see any train pass by. There was one train which had stopped at a village station, a quaint station partly covered by an umbrella-like Banyan tree. The train showed no sign of going anywhere for a long time.

' Death and festivities had the same rhythm of drums. A multitude of emotions in a matter of minutes. Some singing and dancing in joy while some dance in grief. Like life death is also a celebration here. 'On the way to Madurai chaos awaited us. We were unsuccessfully trying to move between scores of old trucks, bullock carts, a small religious procession and a herd of cattle ambling along for their grazing pastures. The whole atmosphere was pulsating with drum beats and other assorted instruments and heavily made up men and women were singing loudly. The road was crowded with folk dancers who did not seem to notice that there were vehicles passing by. We stood for a while looking at all this drama and finally escaped after a while. Before long we saw a crowd in front of a house near the road. There was a group nearby who was playing music. We slowed down and saw that somebody had died. Some people were dancing in fervour in front of the house. Death and festivities had the same rhythm of drums. A multitude of emotions in a matter of minutes. Some singing and dancing in joy while some dance in grief. Like life death is also a celebration here.

In Madurai

It was three by the time we reached the thoroughly soaked town of Madurai. Most of the roads had dirty puddles and stray dogs, pigs and donkeys were wandering around the streets. There were hawkers selling boiled corn and tapioca on the roadside and weary rain soaked vagrants were huddled in a group nearby. Another bunch of Sabarimala pilgrims walked past us with their loud chants. We could tell that they were heading to Madurai Meenakshi Temple which is a must-visit spot for the Sabarimala pilgrims coming from the north of Tamilnadu. Devotees coming from the states of Andhra and Karnataka also take this route.Continued....

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