the mist of the mountains
I recently spent two days (essentially my weekend) at a beautiful home-stay in Mudigere, Chikmagalur known as Flameback Lodge. As we climbed up the foothills and slowed to a halt by the open air pavilion, a deep happiness crashed over me. Inhaling the fresh mountain air laced with the aroma of rain was heavenly, combined with the beautiful scents of the lodge in general. We were taken to our room–a serene cottage facing the rice paddy fields and decorated in a homely, spacious way. The balcony offered up a close up of the paddy fields and the lake in the distance, fringed by the luxury villas.
We spent our first day relaxing on the couches in the pavilion and savoring the gorgeous views of the valley covered by rainforest. Thick blankets of rain enveloped the foliage, curling into strands of cloudy mist. The trees swayed to the wind's song that soared and fell, intense and mournful yet thrumming with passion. Spending chilly days by the valley cocooned in a blanket, nibbling snacks and drinking hot mugs of tea. The meals were also wonderful–a seafood pasta for dinner and a lovely batch of dosas for breakfast.
Our second day was also relatively relaxing except that we embarked upon a drive in the mountains. We climbed higher and higher into the seductive mist as she pressed against our windows and blinded our eyes. Eventually, we drew to a halt by a mud path leading up the mountain and fringed by greenery. The wind roared ferociously and surged at us relentlessly. I could feel myself tipping sideways and off the mountain by the sheer force of it as the mist whirled around us. We eventually reached a small water temple where a petite crab scuttled across stone steps, eyeing us beadily. The lake rippled calmly, a peaceful contrast to the savage beauty we previously witnessed. We remained there for fifteen minutes then headed back into the jeep and returned to the lodge whereupon we were greeted by the sight of a flying peacock.
After eating our dinner of egg fried rice and prawn curry we retired for the night then departed early in the morning. It was a lovely, scenic trip which allowed me to recall some old ideas and plots for future stories.
x
tanisha
Labels: chikmagalur, mountains, travel, writing
droplets upon swaying palm trees (bangalore)
As the monsoon season blesses Bangalore with even more beautiful weather than usual, raindrops kissing windows and settling on swaying palm trees. It is truly a beautiful time to visit my Indian home; the wind cooling my cheeks, rain caressing my head and the cool floor against my toes. Returning to Bangalore is always wonderful as I get to visit my relatives, my godson, my favorite restaurants and so much more. However what truly attracts me to Bangalore is the spirit of the place combined with the personality of the city as well as the people within it.
The people are welcoming, interesting and diverse in terms of character and nationality. There is also something familiar, something comforting about the city that I have spent four years in and continue to visit at least two times, if not three, a year. Many memories have been forged within its lands and lakes–the birth of my godson, the year I finally began getting along with my cousin, the restaurants we frequent and my mother's studio. These remembrances only scratch the surface of the things I hold dear to me which are housed in Bangalore.I have spent this week in a very relaxing way, rising at six thirty to exercise and then breakfasting on either dosas or poha. Then there are a multitude of things to do–restaurants to eat at, people to see and time to simply relax on the veranda with a good book gazing at the palm trees outside with the aroma of rain in the air. We have visited two amazing restaurants called the Fatty Bao and The Monkey Bar, both new places that have great food
As I finger the one of the pictionary cards strewn around the bedcover I feel so incredibly blessed. Blessed to be spending time with some of my favorite people, indulging my taste buds at wonderful restaurants and simply being in such a lovely place. I can't wait to spend my next week here revisiting more old haunts and travelling to Chikmagalur for the weekend to reside in a beautiful
mountain lodge.
Labels: bangalore, culture, friends, memories, travel, writing
in the name of wanderlust
It is difficult to determine the most desirable quality of traveling; perhaps it is the food, the people or the historic values of the place. For me it is the culture or more aptly, the soul of the city. Each city has their own unique characteristics, their own personalities and quirks. It is as if each city, each place, is a living being with culture running through its veins and intensifying its soul.
This sensation leaps at me at various times. It is when Bangalore welcomes the rain as she cleanses her streets, fills the air with her lullaby and laces it with her aromatic scent. It is in the sway of the palm trees as her winds swirl with abandon. The drops decorated on windowsills and on flushed cheeks as fingertips grip mugs of hot chai.
Or sometimes it is Vienna and the sheer essence of her artistry. She is an interesting city indeed–an artist's haven and with good reason. Elegant, refined yet an aura of mystery or perhaps an aura of creation. The city's café's, filled to the brim, as people converse and relax. The lavender-grey cigarette smoke curling through the air in graceful wisps. The clop of horse hooves against cobblestone and the kiss of lipstick against a wine glass.
It overwhelms me in Singapore at times, a city where some declare that culture is void. However, I disagree with this notion for culture is everywhere. There is not a standard nor a expectation for culture and that is what makes it so unique, so breathtaking and interesting. It is in the hawker centres; a communal gathering as I listen to laughter and the discourse around me. When the wind howls and the sky is illuminated by a magnificent crack of lightning. The graceful yet terrifying thunderstorms fading into beautiful firework displays. The restaurants we discover with friends both old and new and the beauty of discovery that awaits behind the obvious.
These little moments, these instances, attract me in cities both new and old. In countries unheard of and small foreign towns. The soul of these haunts are its most wonderful quality and there is a wondrous beauty within.
Labels: cities, culture, soul, travel, wanderlust, writing
within yellow fire of the sun
A delicate wing of a butterfly, veins twining along velvety spots, as its legs land on a leaf. The cheerful petals of a primrose, youthful and singing of spring. Thick, decadent honey rolling lazily off a spoon and outside, the encompassing shape of the sun shines. The sunflowers in my grandmother's garden and patterned on my mother's morning dress; a cheerful contrast to the stark black. The stripes that accompany the black on a bumblebee and the peel of a banana. The shade of the butter you carefully select to make custard pie and the shiny exterior of the cab you hailed home. It is the fur of the Winnie the Pooh plushie you buy your daughter for Christmas and the paint she splatters across a smiling sun, laughter bouncing off chipped mugs of chrysanthemum tea.Labels: color, colors, musings, prompt, writing, yellow
Name: ☾ tanisha ☽
seraglio she says has been my official personal blogging site since 2013; you can find all my personal musings, thoughts and writings on here. i do try to update regularly but occasionally school conflicts.
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