Between Heat and Hills
By Snigdha Agrawal
Trading power cuts and humidity for silence, coffee, and cloud-kissed slopes.
Climate change stopped being an abstract idea sometime between the third power cut and the fifth bead of sweat running down one’s spine. April did not offer the sweet comfort of pre-monsoon showers this year; instead, it brought unrelenting heat, suffocating humidity, and erratic power, transforming daily existence into an ordeal. And it’s not just our lives being turned into a saga of endurance. What about the four-legged and avian creatures, unable to voice a protest? Cooped up in shelters, stables, and cramped crevices, they are devoid of even a semblance of comfort. Leave aside food and water—the most basic survival needs. The inconvenience to us translates into sheer vulnerability for them, an unsettling indication of how pervasively and universally climate change is now infiltrating every aspect of life.
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The mind made cartwheels, seeking an escape route. Not just any escape, but one to the hills. Coorg (or Kodagu, to those who favour exactness), known for its coffee aroma and as the "Scotland of India," seemed just the destination. Scotland may raise a suspicious eyebrow at this description, but Coorg comfortably occupies a mid-ground position on this geographical continuum.
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This time, the heroic attempt at a 257-kilometre self-drive from Bangalore was forsaken in favour of a hired taxi—a decision that, without exaggeration, changed our entire trip for the better. Free of the pressure of navigation and with the stress of honking symphonies silenced, all our energy could now be channelled towards more important activities, like eating and doing absolutely nothing at all.
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Two hours into the drive, the familiar city landscape melted into cooler, fresher air laced with the aroma of coffee, silver oak, and eucalyptus. We rolled down our windows, letting all our senses bloom. Fiery red blossoms of the Flame of the Forest, scattered amid the overwhelming expanse of greenery, appeared like random brushstrokes across the landscape, almost as if nature had dressed up for the occasion.
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The resort, cleverly tiered along the slopes, came as a pleasant surprise. Unlike the cosy homestays and the far more luxurious Tamara that we'd previously experienced, this felt... different. After a smooth check-in and a thrilling buggy ride, we found ourselves at our cottage, shaped like a hybrid of an army bunker built for sub-zero conditions and an igloo that had attended architecture school. As long-time Marriott Bonvoy members, an upgrade felt almost like an expectation, but we accepted it gratefully as either a reward for our years of brand loyalty or a generous gesture—either interpretation suited us just fine.
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Our cottage was one of those rare havens that made us question our existence back home and wonder about extending our stay indefinitely. Silence here wasn't merely the absence of sound but a tangible entity that enveloped you like a comforting shawl. Astonishingly quiet, even though the resort seemed almost full, it was evident that all the guests had mutually agreed to communicate in gentle whispers. Even the birds and insects appeared to be observing maun vrat (a vow of silence).
The resort has been thoughtfully designed into different levels along the hill. The uppermost terrace has the reception, dining rooms, bar, deck and pool. It is, quite clearly, the "civilised zone." Below this is the action zone where guests are treated to evening tea and snacks, live food counters, karaoke, Tambola with attractive prizes that even the shyest guests cannot resist, and an interactive amphitheater like set up. This is where strangers become acquaintances, and kids have free play.
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The resort offers more conventional avenues for the energetic: a well-equipped gym, guided treks, bird-watching tours, and an inviting Quan Spa to help convince tired legs that the plantation walk was their own idea. Families can enjoy a "Picnic by the Pond." Starkly impacted by the lack of rain. Shrunken boundary, murky waters, few fish, tell-tale signs of climate change. Those with a penchant for photography can hire professional photographers for an immaculately captured vacation.
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We tried almost everything on the extensive menu at the Madikeri Kitchen, which offered Indian, Continental, Asian, and local delicacies. Except for joining the crowd for Buffet Breakfast, as per our vacation mantra, we preferred the convenience of room service… who wants to get dressed and step out when you can dine like royalty in your pyjamas, watching television? Efficiency at its very best.
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Not everything about the trip was postcard-perfect. On the way, the town of Madikeri seemed to have quite a few shuttered restaurants and shops due to the cooking gas shortage related to the ongoing Middle Eastern war. Even at the resort, two of the restaurants were shut for the same reason, which translated to the obvious staff shortage and the reduced number of people at the restaurant. A stark reminder that even these seemingly secluded getaways were not untouched by global issues.
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And yet, even these minor setbacks could not diminish the overall brilliance of the trip.
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We spent five nights in what felt like a state of suspended reality where time crawled, and worries evaporated, where indulgence became second nature. Returning to the city felt jarring, like an alarm that you don’t remember setting, suddenly blaring.
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Some holidays blur and fade into memory. This one, however, stays with us like the lingering aroma of coffee in the air. Subtle but undeniably there, long after we've returned from Coorg and everyday life has resumed.
Snigdha Agrawal (nee Banerjee) has an MBA in Marketing and Corporate work experience of over two decades. She enjoys writing all genres of poetry, prose, short stories, and travel diaries. Brought up in a cosmopolitan environment, and educated in Convent Schools run by Irish Nuns, she has imbibed the best from Eastern and Western cultures. She has authored 4 books, namely Trail Mix, Minds Unplugged, Evocative Renderings & Tales of the Twins.