This Sunday many weekend appointments and functions got canceled for the afternoon, with most chauffeurs reluctant to drive long distance. It was not surprising to find the reason. The palpable excitement in air was visible as India plays Pakistan in a cricket final which is expected to be seen by no less than 325 million peeps.
It was cricket all over the bulky Sunday edition of the Times of India which weighed at least a pound - the TV rights folks are ready to extract their pound of flesh in 10s of millions of dollars in advertising revenue.
Cricket between the two neighboring nations, the arc rivals who were separated at birth and fought 3 wars is no less than a war. One team is going to to end up getting Bouquets and the other brickbrats. The excitement is visible in all strata of society, probably a trifle higher in the lower middle class for whom it's fun with the prospect of additional income for some through betting.
Luckily, we were able to grab a cab which agreed to drive us long distance. On an excursion mode it was our turn to visit Coorg, a well known tourist spot of Karnataka. We passed through several skyscrapers scattered on both sides of the roads, with hanging Undies hanging out together with stripped NADAWALLA (stringed) Boxer shorts decorating their balconies.
Suddenly an eunuch came clapping towards us as we approached a toll gate. We pretended looking elsewhere, until our van rolled on towards the toll booth, diverting his/her attention to another vehicle. A guy was offering mineral water bottles at the toll gate to passing commuters, advertising for Godrej Gold county home fest. Consumerism has come a long way to India.
It was a good 4-5 hour drive from Bangalore amidst scenic rolling hills and small rivulets meandering through them with the bustling joy of a teenager. On the way we passed through the silk city of Ramanagar where the epic Hindi movie SHOLAY was shot. We stopped by at a road side eatery named NAMMA HALLIMANE (Our Village Home) which served us some homely made South Indian THALI (Plate).
We continued going uphills as the undulating road snaked uphill towards the Hill Station of Coorg. We took a break at a Buddhist Monastery called Golden Temple at Kushal Nagar, followed by another one at Nisharg Ghat on the banks of a fast flowing Cauvery. I noticed a slanting mango tree constipated with hundreds of mango unable to relieve itself of fruits where even monkeys won't dare. Lucky are those aquatic fauna and the folks downstream who can savor those organic tree ripened mangoes.
The mountain spring looked so pristine, it's bubbling sound musically so divine, as the spring dances it's way through the lush green flora. I now know why so many Bottled (mineral) waters are sourced from these. Springs to be marketed as pure and pristine.
There was magic in the Mountain air which felt very refreshing and full of fragrance - covered by a canvas of fleecy flotila of gray clouds sprinking light drizzle. Inhaling a lung full of air, you get a deep cleansing feeling. Coorg is so cool, literally. Didn't realize when I started murmuring the Odia song of Chitta Jena..
RE BANA JHARANA,
NAACHI NAACHI JAANA.
E MORA MAINA,
DHARAA DIANA..
O Forest Spring,
Don't go dancing.
O my Myena
Always escapes capturing. More later...
It was cricket all over the bulky Sunday edition of the Times of India which weighed at least a pound - the TV rights folks are ready to extract their pound of flesh in 10s of millions of dollars in advertising revenue.
Cricket between the two neighboring nations, the arc rivals who were separated at birth and fought 3 wars is no less than a war. One team is going to to end up getting Bouquets and the other brickbrats. The excitement is visible in all strata of society, probably a trifle higher in the lower middle class for whom it's fun with the prospect of additional income for some through betting.
Luckily, we were able to grab a cab which agreed to drive us long distance. On an excursion mode it was our turn to visit Coorg, a well known tourist spot of Karnataka. We passed through several skyscrapers scattered on both sides of the roads, with hanging Undies hanging out together with stripped NADAWALLA (stringed) Boxer shorts decorating their balconies.
Suddenly an eunuch came clapping towards us as we approached a toll gate. We pretended looking elsewhere, until our van rolled on towards the toll booth, diverting his/her attention to another vehicle. A guy was offering mineral water bottles at the toll gate to passing commuters, advertising for Godrej Gold county home fest. Consumerism has come a long way to India.
It was a good 4-5 hour drive from Bangalore amidst scenic rolling hills and small rivulets meandering through them with the bustling joy of a teenager. On the way we passed through the silk city of Ramanagar where the epic Hindi movie SHOLAY was shot. We stopped by at a road side eatery named NAMMA HALLIMANE (Our Village Home) which served us some homely made South Indian THALI (Plate).
We continued going uphills as the undulating road snaked uphill towards the Hill Station of Coorg. We took a break at a Buddhist Monastery called Golden Temple at Kushal Nagar, followed by another one at Nisharg Ghat on the banks of a fast flowing Cauvery. I noticed a slanting mango tree constipated with hundreds of mango unable to relieve itself of fruits where even monkeys won't dare. Lucky are those aquatic fauna and the folks downstream who can savor those organic tree ripened mangoes.
The mountain spring looked so pristine, it's bubbling sound musically so divine, as the spring dances it's way through the lush green flora. I now know why so many Bottled (mineral) waters are sourced from these. Springs to be marketed as pure and pristine.
There was magic in the Mountain air which felt very refreshing and full of fragrance - covered by a canvas of fleecy flotila of gray clouds sprinking light drizzle. Inhaling a lung full of air, you get a deep cleansing feeling. Coorg is so cool, literally. Didn't realize when I started murmuring the Odia song of Chitta Jena..
RE BANA JHARANA,
NAACHI NAACHI JAANA.
E MORA MAINA,
DHARAA DIANA..
O Forest Spring,
Don't go dancing.
O my Myena
Always escapes capturing. More later...
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