The Lotus Lake

Shivanasamudra.

Visiting the waterfalls on a holiday is not a good idea unless you get there early enough to beat the crowds. So, I set off at half past five in the pre-dawn and the light drizzle. At a little past six, Anjali was riding pillion and we were on our way.

The ride down Mysore road on a bike in a light rain is exhilarating. It wasn't so much fun for Anjali who was getting a pounding from the rain falling on her face. We were at Lokaruchi nice and early for breakfast, and we then turned off Mysore Road at Maddur towards Malavalli. A few kilometers past Malavalli a signboard directed us left to the Shivanasamudra bluff and Gaganchukki. It is getting close to Ganesh Chaturthi, and there were groups of children on the road asking for donations for their village pandals, adding more obstacles to the ubiquitous potholes.

Gaganchukki and Barachukki are magnificent in the monsoon. The water was white against the rocks. Swallows were flying about in the spray. Brahminy kites soared high over the falls.

A short walk past the 'Entry Prohibited' signboard took us away from the Sunday revellers to a quiet spot upstream. To our delight, we spotted a grey-headed fishing eagle alight on a branch on the other bank of the river. We watched it for a while, until a policeman came and shooed us off.

You can only stare at water falling down a cliff for so long, so we decided to visit Thalakad which was only a short distance away. Unfortunately, that short distance suffers from a certain lack of tarmac. My bike's shock absorbers and our backsides were severely punished on our way to this historical monument. It is surprising that a monument such as this is only approachable through such a pathetic excuse of a road.

The temples at Thalakad have long been studied by students of architecture. Sadly, the finer points of architecture escape me. The intricate carvings on the walls and the pillars do make excellent subject for 'abstracts', or so I was told. The temples are built on a huge sand bank on the Cauvery, and a little past the temple, on the banks of the river, hawkers were selling all sort of wares to the visiting tourists. A pesky little boy insisted on following us around saying that we would need a guide to tell us the history of the place and to save us from getting lost in the sand. When we finally got rid of him, a woman came up to me and told me the whole story of the place in Kannada. At least, I think it was the story of the place. Note to self: Learn Kannada.

Just a little past Thalakad, we turned off the road onto a dirt track that ended at the river. We sat there for some time, enjoying the sounds of the wind in the reeds and the water flowing by.

We'd asked the people at Thalakad if there was a better road back to Bangalore, and they'd replied in the affirmative. However, I suspect their idea of better just means longer, and a sterner test for the shock absorbers. The route is definitely more scenic though and we stopped more than a few times to identify birds we saw flying by. Blue-winged leafbirds and ashy-crowned sparrowlarks were firsts for me.

And then, as we were riding by a lake covered in lotuses, I casually mentioned that it would be great if a pheasant-tailed jacana were to walk by just then. And suddenly, there they were, pheasant-tails waving in the wind. Lots and lots of them! And they are so beautiful. And there were bronze-winged jacanas and watercocks as well. And coots and purple moorhens. I'm sure we'd have seen much more if we'd stayed. Perhaps even the snakes that Anjali had been hoping for.

Is there a word like brunch which describes a full meal at a time between lunch and dinner? Well, we stopped just before Ramanagaram on the way back and had that. There wasn't much else of note on the way back apart from two black-winged kites by the side of the road.

Quite a trip. I did forget to mention that it rained intermittently making the ride quite enjoyable. And yes, that we stopped many many more times to watch baya weavers and common flameback woodpeckers and scaly-bellied munias and rollers. And I am very happy that we didn't have a puncture.

No Black Panther

Dandeli.

It was pouring when we sleepily disembarked from the Ajmer Express at Londa. I could see the taxi drivers' eyes light up when they saw us descend the walkway over the tracks, what with two French women leading the way. With a start like that, the fare bargaining, expectedly, was most unfair. Anyway, after unsuccessfully haggling a bit, we drove off into the monsoon green and to our home for the weekend - two spacious rooms at the Jungle Lodges' Kali River Resort.

The Kali River, the boatman told us, is named after the black appearance of the water. The rains, however, had turned it into the colour of a light coffee. The crocodiles took the opportunity presented by the short break in the rain to drag themselves out of their lethargy by soaking in the cloud filtered sun-rays. Women from the village across the river took the same opportunity to wash clothes down by the river. They've always done this with no fear of the crocodiles because there are fish aplenty in the river.

The driver stopped the jeep suddenly and killed the engine. The silence of the forest is shattered by the shriek of a Crested Serpent Eagle. There he was, perched on a leafless branch looking over our jeep at a ripple in the pond. He shrieked again, gave us one disdainful glare and gracefully soared into the trees. Methinks he was mightily displeased by our interference in his hunt of the rat snake in the pond. The ripple that was the rat snake must have thanked his lucky stars. The other creatures we disturbed that evening were a herd of gaur, a wild boar, a malabar giant squirrel, some spotted deer, a few emerald doves and dozens of peafowl. The forest is clad in its thickest coat at this time of year, so I wasn't surprised at the meagre returns of our safari.

Screeching hornbills woke me up the next morning. Gathering wits and camera, I stumbled out into the grey dawn. Malabar grey hornbills and malabar pied hornbills adorned the higher reaches of the trees, squabbling about what I do not know, but kicking up one helluva ruckus to be sure. The racket-tailed drongos we saw on the morning walk, the noisy ones in any hunting party, seemed courteous and polite after the chaos of the hornbills. They were accompanied on their hunt by common flameback woodpeckers and scarlet minivets. The path we walked through the forest was netted by spider webs, most prominently those of the giant wood spiders. Frogs and grasshoppers leapt out of our clumsy way giving the forest floor a nervous appearance. A rufous woodpecker on a silver oak completed my morning walk.

The rest of the day was then spent trying to fool each other at bluff, and other card games. And then it was time for the bus ride back to Bangalore. Aurelie, Emilie, Manik and Dillu... merci beaucoup!