We drive. Enjoying Almighty's garden. The roads are lovely, especially for a road less traveled. The hills are still unspoilt and hopefully remains that way. The winding pavement, the cardamom and coffee estates, the locals with their mundu and white sarees, all ascertain us that the world is not a bad place.
We are at the wooden dock. With a huge wooden barge in front of us. Richly decorated with humans of all kinds. With their life jackets and colorful outfits. We hop in, and the large vessel is carefully Maneuvered. Inch by inch. By pulling. And more pulling.
The island has more sights and sounds than we can imagine. Sound of the wind, the music of the leaves, the chirping of the birds and the buzz of the bees. All come together in perfect harmony. Much soothing for the ears. It's relaxing to say the least. Such is the beauty of this island that a stroll through the green forest can drive away the worst worries from one's life.
They bring us back to the mainland. We wish we spent more time on the island. But then, we were the last ones out. They had to push us onto them barges to get us away from the island. We never wanted to leave. Especially me.
On our way back, we talk about people from the big cities. People from the metropolitan. People who get so very engrossed in the act of making money that they forget who or what they started making it for in the first place. People who just have money and are not rich. You know what I mean. But then who are we to judge them.
We search for a local tea shop. And in our search for the local chaaya (that's what people over there call tea as), I try my hand in speaking Malayalam and fail terribly. When I say terribly, I mean downright terrible. But then who cares. I'm here to learn. In fact, we all are. I've got no regrets.
Its late evening and we are at the buzzing main streets of Kalapetta. Looking for something authentic to the place. Something native to Wayanad. Something which we don't find back home. But then, we can't find anything. All we can find is people of all regions and races. Much diverse?.
10 pm. We call it a night.
The next day.
I can see the light of Dawn. The everlasting darkness fading. Cold leaving my bones. And the warmth of hope filling them again. I stand alone watching the sun; Watching the sun rise over the mist filled hill station. Nothing is greater than seeing the god of light. Nature's beauty. Not appreciated by many because its free?. I'll never know.
8 am. We are wandering like crazy gambling lunatics. Looking for Kerala breakfast. And in our search for typical malabari breakfast, we end up in a local tea shop which also served Kerala's first meal of the day. We indulge in it. Face first. And gulp it down with authentic Chaaya.