When I was much younger and my universe was constrained by the city limits of Calcutta,
Coorg was a little squiggle on the map of Karnataka, its shadowy presence acknowledged
by half-remembered geography lessons, coffee and by a certain gown-like drape of a
certain Mrs Mundappa’s sari. The latter especially stood out in its uniqueness, eking out
a visual cue for Coorg. Many years later in college, Coorg was one of the many places
that people called home in the multicultural melting pot that was Delhi University. And
almost all of them came from homes set in sprawling estates growing coffee and had an
unbelievably high tolerance for alcohol as well as fiery meat dishes. This naturally led to a
conversation about the Pandi Curry or the famous spiced pork curry of the region. Some
Coorgi folk actually believed that this dish was the sacred rite of passage for all meat
lovers. Since a good Pandi Curry eluded me and those I sampled remained greasy blots
in my food memory, just like the dish, with time, the place faded from the memory. Five
years later as I crossed a bridge over the Cauvery in a well-travelled car, with the familiar
highway markers announcing ‘Welcome to Kodagu District’ in my line of sight, I felt a
sudden rush of excitement as all these half-remembered impressions flooded in.
In a few kilometres after Kushalnagar, the gateway town, the run-of-the-mill state highway
suddenly transformed into a winding hilly road with unending swathes of green on either
side. Monsoon is not regarded as a favoured time to visit this region and yet, whenever I
have travelled across South India, it has been under the aegis of the rain gods. Somehow,
I have always enjoyed this off season experience which drives away the tourist hordes
and returns the place to its serene quietude. The rain-washed land shorn of its summer
dust has a fresh and dewy sheen. Coorg was no different and my first glimpse of the lush
and wild forested tracts interspersed with the vast coffee plantations, was through a gap
between passing rain clouds. As the sun cast its errant late afternoon beams across the
road, the coffee bushes glistened, cementing this as a lasting snapshot of the place.
An interesting fact about the Coorg or the Kodagu district is that it is the least populous of
the 30 districts of Karnataka which make it one of the few places where the wilderness per
square kilometre is far more than the human population around these parts. Also, since
large tracts of this district are privately owned by the coffee planters (Coorg is India’s most
important coffee-growing district), that ensures that the forest cover remains unspoilt and
thus the region supports an extraordinary biodiversity. This also prevents any unnecessary
development in an area which draws hundreds of holidaymakers to its lush hillscapes. As a result
there is the growth of a new hospitality industry -- one which thrives on homestays
and extremely luxurious boutique properties usually the brainchild of the plantation owners
themselves.
As we made our way through the bumpy non-roads a little above Suntikoppa into the Old
Kent Estate, the Coorgi terrain enveloped us in her musky, squelchy and coffee-scented
bosom. An idyll in the middle of 200 odd acres of coffee, cardamom and pepper crops,
the Old Kent Estate is a renovated version of quintessentially English coffee bungalow.
century comforts like sunken tubs and spa treatments are juxtaposed against 21st
coffee plantation walks and traditional Coorgi food. This is the template for most Coorgi
homestays as well as boutique resorts which are a far cry from big banner hotel chains.
We spent our days walking around misty hill roads. Like many other places, Coorg has
also been more about the 'in between' journeys rather than the popular tourist spots. An
initial sightseeing experience at the Abbey Falls left us a little scarred. Buffeted by the jet
spray of the fairly impressive waterfall and trampled by nearly five score camera-happy
tourists who braved precarious rocks and moss-sodden perches in order to get the perfect
shot, we did a quick about turn just as we got a glimpse of the waterfall. The tourist
legions had left in its wake reams of orange Haldiram bhujia packets and green-capped
Bisleri bottles while the excess of water seeping out from every single crevasse had led to
a proliferation of leeches and you were lucky if you left Abbey Falls without a bloodsucker
in tow. Thereafter we drove around aimlessly, tracking the natural beauty of the rolling
hills and stopping where we pleased. Lured by ambling cows, little bridges over gurgling
streams and picturesque sunsets, we were masters of our own itineraries.
A strange fact I discovered is that although this is the land of coffee with green beans
hanging from every bush that you see by the highway, a good cuppa is not all that easy
to come across. The best coffee of the region is actually packed off to the auction houses
and sold off to foreign buyers. They return to India via the circuitous international coffee
chain route with a 100 percent markup and are served in branded cups or as freeze-dried
packs of Arabaica and Robusta with esoteric descriptions on their labels.
Apart from the plantation homestays, it is rather unlikely that one will find Coorgi coffee
at a roadside stall. A single ambitious shop in Madikeri has forward integrated into a cafe
and this was where we had our first traditional Coorgi coffee, made with local beans and
sweetened with jaggery - a perfectly heartwarming brew that kept away the rainy day
chills. However, we managed to wrangle many a cuppa made from the home-grown beans
from the kitchen in our estate. And while we took in the changing light across the coffee
bushes and the colourful profusion of rain-drenched flowers, we drank deeply of the brew of the land.
While coffee is an integral aspect of Coorgi cuisine, a plentiful bounty of the land, so
is meat. Traditionally the Kodavas (the indigenous locals who had settled in the region
thousands of years ago, inherited the land and set up coffee and spice plantations)
were fierce hunters who subsisted on game that they caught and the produce of the
land. This included a limited number of vegetables like plantains, jackfruit and coconuts.
This resulted in meat becoming a central feature of meals. While chicken and fish were
commonly consumed, it was the meat from the wild boar hunt that formed the greatest
delicacy -- Pandi Curry. While we tasted our delightful Pandi Curry in a restaurant with a
jaw-dropping view across a valley, most Pandi curries are best had in traditional homes,
over crackling fires and accompanied by snowy akki rotis. The complex blend of spices,
the varying textures and the fiery edge, made this a meal worthy of a royal repast.
Dotted with a handful of one-horse towns, I discovered that the true beauty of Coorg lies
outside human settlement and in its fragrant coffee and delectable food. Everything is
born of the soil, including its people, who are fiercely independent with a culture that is
as ancient as it is predominant in the region even today. They guard their natural bounty,
local myths and old family secrets with equal zeal.
It rains as I walk under bulbous jackfruits, hanging from mossy branches. I pick an
occasional green berry off a shiny coffee plant and watch kingfishers create a sudden
gash of blue across the green canvas. This is a Coorgi monsoon. And it is like no other
that I have seen.
This was published in the New Indian Express, Bangalore on 18 September 2014
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