Rendezvous with silence.......

That’s what I shall call it. Far from the hustle bustle of B'lore, amidst the serene hills where clouds descend in gallons and winds roar in tandem, and only silence prevails. At times it’s good to go by a whim, at least that’s what urged me to take a break and be myself. Once bitten, it’s indeed very difficult to restrain one and off I go in pursuit of silence. Now, why babble so much on silence? Rather gibberish, but it is really something all of us miss, at least I do. Be it the din in office or on the road and not to forget the electronic instance, it is just nowhere to be found. All these, coupled with a long weekend make me board the 10:45 bus to Chikmanglur. My colleague is to accompany me, but finally his camera does. Armed with a backpack, a camera and few notes on the place (courtesy Google) my journey starts. NH4 is in tatters now, with diversions all over, it takes more time than usual to hit Tumkur road. Gradually, city lights fade out, highway widens and the bus gains speed. Blessed with a window seat there is the entire star studded sky for me to gape at. A thin crack on the window pane makes way to the chilly air, but not to mind, it goes well with the journey. We cross hamlets, coconut groves, barren moor, roadside dhabas and Canara bank ATMs (a must find all along the roads in Karnataka, as it is with Andhra Bank in Andhra Pradesh)!

Journey by bus never allows me to sleep and I befriend the night and the stars, so that they are my companion all the way, and they haven't disappointed me till date. It must be a no-moon night, our entire existence seems so tiny, and the stars appear to be distant spectators patiently watching our moves, as we the mortals take on the elements. We fight, kill, and go beyond all bounds of cruelty, ravage the planet for resources, blame each other and yet are perfect hypocrites, but we are clawless when it comes to fighting nature. Even our combined weaponry is miniscule to the prowess of the million suns lying light years away, for they are hot on our trail and we have to succumb to their pull someday. A sudden screech and the 'Rajahamsa' (category of the Govt. bus) halts for a tea break by a highway side restaurant. 15 minutes of halt and we set out for the next leg of our journey.

It is 5:15 in the morning and the bus finally reaches Chikmanglur. Chilly gusts of wind welcome me to the sleepy town nestled among hills. A cup of steamy coffee and am back to my spirits. The fellow on the other side of counter turns out to be a good samaritan and guides me to the hotel I have contacted earlier. But, life is full of uncertainties, and as usual there are no rooms vacant in the hotel, courtesy a film unit that has checked in last night all inclusive of a heroine from Bollywood and a local hero! So, I stand no chance. Now, life smiles a bit, and here too the receptionist turns out to be kind enough and offers me a toilet to freshen up (possibly my B'lore connection amuses him, after all a visitor from the capital)! Just cannot let go of this opportunity, so I request him to arrange for a taxi. This time it fails, as the hotel does not run any tours. Amidst the discussion, a local transport fellow walks in looking for a room and on listening to my plight immediately arranges for a Maruti Omni! The car would be there in half an hour, so I rush to freshen up and in no time I am into the Omni heading for Mulayangiri, the highest peak in Karnataka.

The driver is a young chap, who makes his living out of short trips to B'lore and neighbourhood towns. Gradually, roads become narrow, shady bowers welcome me to the coffee estates of Chikmanglur. My first stop is at Sheetalayangiri, a perfect place to be for the sunrise. One sneak peek into the deserted temple and off we go to Mulayangiri. Gajendra, my driver cum guide, takes the Omni as far possible and then we start to climb the rugged steps. After a taxing climb, we reach the peak. The surrounding hills look heavenly; the sun rays glisten on the waterbodies far and reflect on the clouds atop valleys. The summit is deserted except a dilapidated temple and the lone Nandi Bull guarding the shrine. Snaps captured, we start the descent and meet the next group making their way to the top on the way.

Now to the next destination, Dattapeeth. Gajen explains me the significance of the shrine. Centuries ago, a Muslim saint Baba Budan came to Chikmanglur and sowed the first coffee seed that later grew by millions and made the place a coffee hub. Sadly, the saint’s shrine is out of bounds to public, courtesy a communal brawl few years ago. Meanwhile, we reach the place and I have to satiate myself with a view of the 'Dargah' from this side of fence itself. There are others too, from far off places, who have come for a glimpse of the holy shrine and spend few days in the humble rooms next to the Dargah.

It is nearly 9 in the morning and time for breakfast! Couple of 'parathas' served on a not-so-clean steel plate in a dimly lit eatery by a very old man in tattered clothes, and we are ready for our next destination. Manikyadhara is a place by the slope of a hill, where water falls after passage through thick foliage. People flock to bathe in this water as it is considered to be pious. Here, something worth mentioning catches my attention. A look around the point shows heaps of clothes, old, new, worn out, torn to bits, all among the rocks. Gajen explains me that according to custom people must throw off a piece of cloth after bathing in the waters and that continues to this day irrespective of the notice put up by district administration banning the act. He points to the worn out board that speaks of a 50 rupees fine and the clothes that adorn the notice itself! A little away from the falls, I come across an old man decorated with beads, stones and well maintained white beard. He greets me with a smile and I cannot just avoid taking a quick snap of his, for he is the custodian to my shoes, which I have to leave before visiting the holy waters! Possibly from my Hindi, he makes out that I am not from Bangalore and enquires about my native and then advances his palm for something in return to the service. Not far from the point, on a nearby cliff, I climb a view point and get mesmerized by the landscape. Far away Mulayangiri appears hazed behind clouds, the Chikmaglur town a distant maze and the houses liliputs. Gusts of wind blow away my cap and Gajen runs to catch it.

The sun is nearly at its helm and we advance towards Hebbe Falls, our next stop. The road gradually turns narrower and last patches of bitumen disappear among tufts of green foliage. Potholes, bumps and dry leaves carpet the path, bamboo shoots make up arches above, tall grass bar my vision on the steep side of the road. Occasional streams greet us and make their way down the deep gorge. There is an eerie silence all around except the continuous chirping of crickets hidden in the trees, the wind too seem to respect the forest's supremacy and pause for a while. Tall eucalyptuses, mahoganies, sals and other unknown ones stand in attention to the left while a thick cover of algae adorn the rock wall on our right. Our Omni slowly makes way through this trail at times stopping for a start after a sudden jolt from one of the innumerable potholes. Suddenly I see a swarm of colourful butterflies on a wet stretch on the road and ask Gajen to stop for a snap. Oblivious of our car, the butterflies seem to quench their thirst . A close snap and I am back to the car, when Gajen points to a yellow sign post barely visible behind the bamboos. It reads "Bhadra Wildlife Sanctuary Limit Starts" and just below it is the obscure figure of a predator. I am ecstatic, for we may come across some wild inhabitants if luck prevails. But my driver is not that confident. He blames the countless vehicles enroute that blare air horns, good enough to frighten deer and other animals. After much trouble, we finally reach a diversion and another signpost directs to Hebbe Falls. We whiz past a rusty board that reads "Kudremukh Iron Ore Mines" and the road ahead speaks of it boldly as it turns reddish brown by every turn we take. After driving for nearly 2 kms our Omni finally gives up. It is unable to take the boulders any further. Gajen spells out doom, that it is indeed risky to take the car any further as the road is worst ahead.

Once decided I stretch my otherwise worn out legs and start to trek. Gajen too leaves the car and follows suit. Approximately we will have to walk for 6 Kms to reach the falls. Cautiously we set afoot the slippery trail, jump over poodles, negotiate sudden downhill and continue the trudge. All along the route I can hear the soft mumbling of a flowing stream somewhere below, hidden behind thick vegetation of conifers and coffee hedges. Few Mahindra Jeeps and a motor bike dance past us and disappear over the hairpin bends ahead. The sun is on its way down now and long shadows cast a magical spell on the red trail ahead. The road goes uphill and next moment down followed by sudden strips of vacant land. Deep tyre marks on wet soil serve as our guide. Turn after turn we walk, only to see another turn in front. Long lost memories rejuvenate as I recollect a lesson we learnt some 14 years back in school; that of a chapter in our Geography book "Monsoon Asia" which read of " Kemmangundi in Bababudan Hills is the source of iron ore for the Bhadravathi Steel Plant.....” It's thrilling to see the place that I read of long back. The brown roads, greenery, streams, the sky above take me back to the ground floor classroom of my school. Sweet memories make the journey all the more merrier, I must say.

It’s more than an hour that we have been trekking, yet no trace of the falls. However, Gajen assures me that we are almost there, though a slight interrogation reveals that he has also never been to that place before!! Surprises galore, but I just cannot outdo his optimism, so we move along. Hey, what’s that? I see the Jeeps stationed at an open space and few huts around. Seems we finally reached the place! From there onwards, everyone has to walk to see the falls that lies further deep within the forest. The stream that has been playing hide and seek till now surfaces in front and we must cross it! With shoes in one hand and camera on the other I step into the waters. Oh!! It’s freezing cold! A few seconds in it and my feet go numb. Twice we cross the stream and I save myself from a fall once while trying to jump over a slippery rock. But where is the falls, it’s yet to be seen?? Gajen is ahead of me and I speak of my growing impatience to him. Suddenly he stands still and calls me aloud, "Sir, here it is!" and points above ahead. I rush to the rock where he is standing and in a moment is dumbfound! Within the canopy of high standing trees as if a drop scene lifts up and on the back drop of a strip of blue sky high above the hill the Hebbe Falls comes alive. For a moment I feel as if I am a worn out explorer on the lookout of a mythical beauty hidden in the labyrinth of nature. The stories and the feelings of explorers and what exactly attracts them dawns on me, something possibly us the regular city beings may never be able to realize. All the tiredness vanishes in a moment and an unprecedented ecstasy fill me, for all the effort has been rewarded.

The Hebbe Falls is neither that high nor is the volume of water that huge when compared to other falls I have seen. Yet, it’s so beautiful. Possibly, it’s the cascading effect of the falls that makes it so serene to look at. A single stream of water from high above the hills takes a steep drop on a huge rock and bifurcates into smaller flows before the final descent below. The rock restricts the wild force of the gushing stream and adds rhythm to it. Gajen's voice brings me back to reality and I advance near to the waters. A fine spray of droplets welcome me and in no moment I am drenched. Nevertheless, braving the ice cold water I manage to climb a rock and take few snaps before the camera gets wet. All done, it’s time to get a closer look and this time I slip and straight go into the pool next to the rock! Fortunately the pool is not that deep and no damage done to the camera and my glasses. Now, totally drenched, I prefer not to go any further and admire the spectacle from the rock itself. An hour goes by and I just don’t feel like leaving the place. My next trip plans are set and I must come back some time in future and possibly during monsoon for the sublime spectacle the falls will offer. A final look of admiration, and we set for our journey back. This time, we board one of the Jeeps that bring us fast to the place where we left our car.

The sun is pretty low now and another bumpy ride of 3 Kms brings us to Kemmangundi, site of the Krishna Rajendra Hill Station, developed almost a century ago by the Wodeyar King of Mysore. Our Omni takes a circuitous route to the top of the hill where riot of colours greet us. The state's horticulture department maintains a sprawling rose garden that’s home to some hundred varieties of roses in all possible hues and tints. From falls to flowers, my eyes feast on the wonders of nature. All around the hill station, man made gardens adore the steps with flowers in full bloom. We are just in time for the sunset and I climb the flight of steps to the view point at the summit to see the last rays of the sun die behind the hills. From nowhere clouds come down and cover up the entire horizon in an enchanting blanket of whites. The long day comes to an end. It's time for the birds to retire to theirs nests, for the flowers to fold their petals and sink in slumber. Nature sends in its emissaries for night, I look up to see the twinkling stars amidst the rising mist, all set to welcome the enchantress of night, the moon.

Gajen tells me that we will take a different route to Chikmanglur as the road is much better than the one we took earlier in the day. So we set off to a 57 Km long haul at 6:30 in the evening. The road is indeed better as it’s a state highway and my driver makes full use of it. At 60 Kmph our fog lights pierce through the pitch darkness and casts shadows on the surrounding coffee plantations. After around 10 Kms, the road again brings us to Bhadra Wildlife Sanctuary. This time the road is even steeper and hair pin bends appear too often, except that there are rails on its sides to prevent falls at turns. Gajen adeptly negotiates these turns and any occasional vehicle that comes from the opposite side. We blaze past villages, groups of home bound coffee plantation workers, herds of cattle and tiny dots of lights embedded on the hillocks. After a descent of almost an hour, the forest limits come to an end and far away I can see the lights of the town. The forest appeared completely different by night than in the day; the sounds have changed, so have the sights, all for the vagaries of nature. In few minutes, I reach the hotel. Still in a trance of the day long journey, I thank Gajen for the wonderful trip and for his accompaniment. His innocent smile just adds to the saga and he bids me bye wishing that I will visit again. Deep within, I am also sure that I will be back. After a quick dinner I take a stroll on the hotel’s terrace. On the backdrop of a moonless night, the entire galaxy seems to beckon me. My thirst is quenched; I have found the long sought silence.

snaps courtesy: The wonderful Canon camcorder generously lent by my colleague Mr. Sukhjinder Singh