The Whistling Thrush Bungalow at Nelliyampathy

The Bungalow

Now, that's what I call a name! So intrigued was I with the images of this little bungalow, tucked away in a sleepy hill town, surrounded by woods, birds, meadows and fresh air, that I dragged my unsuspecting husband and son to the hamlet of Nelliyampathy in Kerala and on to the Whistling Thrush Bungalow!

This is not recent, its another 2006 story, but I'm bored with work, the weather outside is conducive to story-telling, and so the regurgitation.

Getting there

Nelliyampathy is a Kerala hill station, a plantation town really, with coffee and cardamom plantations. We took the train to Coimbatore, though Palakkad would've been closer. We were picked up there by a cab, accompanied by the estate manager Mr Subramaniam Pillai, a serious gent - more about him later, though. Anyway, the driver Razzak was quite a speedking, and we all studiously looked out through the side windows!

From Coimbatore to Palakkad was about 45 mins, then without getting into the city, we drove straight on via Kodayur, Nemmara to Nelliyampathy. The hill drive was about an hour, from the Pothundy dam, which was very scenic, and Japanese-like.
Vistas on the way up

Pothundy dam

The hill road was pretty dicey, with most places only allowing a single vehicle, though the PWD was at work trying to broaden it. (I wonder if its been done now.) We saw one vehicle in the ravine below ... pretty hairy. Anyway, in the hills, Mr Razzak drove more cautiously, while giving us a cheerful commentary on all the various kinds of accidents seen along the way!!

I think the local Keralite has a penchant for the gory, and recount such stories with great relish!

The Bungalow is named after the Malabar whistling thrush, not a very impressive looking bird, very shy, but with a lovely call that makes you go looking for it. When we visited, the staff included Justin the cook, Vishalu the housekeeper and Sunil, our guide on walks. All would rattle off in Malayalam, while we grinned idiotically not having understood a word of what they said. We occupied one room, which had an attached bath, with running hot and cold water, a clean double bed, large windows which looked out into the garden. We also had use of the sitting room, a verandah, and our meals were in the dining room.







The garden of the bungalow had lovely crotons, flowers and a little enclosed lawn, where my son practised his diving catches and many a mini cricket match took place in our stay.

A grey wagtail would come every morning while we had coffee and rummage on the lawn for its breakfast, its tail furiously bobbing up and down. The bungalow was in the midst of a coffee and cardamom plantation, and tree pies, malabar parakeets and langurs would make a racket all through the day.








Workers were busy with cardamom harvesting as well. The pods are found at the base of the plant, and the workers have to root among the thick undergrowth to get at them. The humidity of the pantation makes if a happy hunting ground (quite literally) for leeches. The red berries of the coffee vines also looked ready for picking.

Above in the trees, a paper wasp colony had built a nest. When we looked at the nest through our binoculars, we could see the hive teeming with the wasps, which convert dead wood into these hives, mixing the material with their saliva.

Uh oh, leeches!
Morning came and Sunil decided to take us for a walk of the estate. He made us apply a mixture of tobacco and coconut oil and dettol on our legs, to keep the leeches away. My husband, like a hero decided not to use this, and on his son's advice they both tucked their pants into their socks and felt very safe from the leeches!! (For your information, Sunil was in a lungi hitched up over his knees, so bare legs and chappals!! Claimed he had used dettol.)

So we set out through the plantation, looking around and enjoying the amazing variety in shades of green. A mushroom-laden log lay by the side of the track, and down below we could see a little stream, through the trees of the plantation.



At this point, I happenned to look down at my shoes and let out a yelp - my shoes were crawling with leeches. And so were husband's and son's - and not one on the bared legs of Mr Sunil! Anyway, he calmly flicked them off us, even took a few and carefully put them away among the leaves in the undergrowth. I thought to myself this is the height of environental friendliness, I mean why doesnt he just kill them off? Only later did I realise that they cant be killed off by stepping on - I did try it - or bashing them! They need to be drowned in salt! My first encounter with these creatures.

I must say our ten year old son took all this with great equanimity, saying how he had already been through this in Coorg! After that, the walk was never the same - nervously looking at our shoes every now and then, and the husband urging us to move on and not stop and stare.

So we quickly went past the waterfall, where 2 men were bathing in their chaddis, while the wives looked on very unimpressed, up to the cardamom curing unit - where we got some respite because it was all bricked up and leeches dont like bricks you see. Then up to the top of the little waterfall, and onto the check dam.







Sunil then decided to bring us back through the wilder part of the estate, and we literally ran back, as the undergrowth was just crawling with leeches!! To further my belief about the locals sense of gore, Vishalu proceeded to tell us about how the plantation workers get bitten by leeches near the eyes, on the head, etc. Anyway what a way to earn a living, its no wonder they're having labour scarcity. I shall respect the yelakkai much more from now.

On our return to the bungalow, we all removed our shoes, which were crawling with leeches, Sunil calmly comes by with some salt that he puts on the ground, adds some water, and then one by one puts the leeches in it. Can you believe they were dead in less than 10 seconds? Inspite of all this drama, my son and I escaped unbitten, but husband, who had refused to put repellant did have a bite, and was given a lecture by Sunil. I must say, my good stoic husband did not enjoy it in the least, and declined all further invitations out of the estate!! Our son "comforted" him, and said dont worry daddy, it will stop bleeding (leeches inject some anti-coagulant so the wound bleeds more than a regular hurt).

Hungry after our walk, Justin and Vishalu gave us a sumptuous lunch. Post lunch,
I did go off, smeared with repellant to do some birdwatching - identified atleast 20 species I had never seen before - some really spectacular ones. It was all quite thrilling as my husband had just acquired a new Nikon binocular, which opened our eyes to the world of birds. Small minivets, white-cheeked barbets, racket-tailed drongoes, Malabar parakeets and bank mynahs and tree pies were in plenty. I did have one sighting of the whistling thrush, and a yellow-browed bulbul.

The brave men of my family stayed put in the house and its garden, only coming out for a jeep ride to some view points the next day. There's a place called Sitalakundu, which is like Coakers Walk in Kodai, spectacular views.


Then Sunil proceeded to give us graphic accounts of the various people who've fallen off the cliff! See, what I did tell you!

Mr Pillai saw no humour in our situation, and was rather indignant at our dislike of them leeches. I think he'll make a good president for the Society of Leech Lovers, or a Save the Leech Foundation or some such. For my anti-leech views, I earned a lecture on how leeches only suck the bad blood, are used for traditional medicine, dont pass on anything contagious, etc etc. If you have the stomach for this kind of thing, maybe you should watch Extreme Healing: Leeches in India from National Geographic. My son is fascinated with the clip and watches it over and over again!










While the leech was the primary "adventure", we city slickers also faced a stormy night, without power, and the winds howling through the estate trees. I was glad when morning came, and brought with it some respite from the rain.

The large malabar squirrels also came out, and their call pulled us into the garden.  Lovely, brown coats with a lighter coloured belly, we were lucky to spot a pair of them as they went from tree to tree above us.

Soon, it was time to leave. Our driver going downhill was quite the opposite of Mr Razzak, and we cautiously wound our way down to the plains, reaching Palakkad where there was no power, the roads were full of potholes, and the station had its familiar stench. Armed with freshly fried nendram and tapioca chips, we returned to Madras.

Of course, the veteran MNS members listened in amusement to our first encounter with leeches, having been there done that. And though the whistling thrush bird was a bit of a let down for me, the whole trip, the bungalow and the staff and the mountain terrain of Kerala will draw me back I'm sure.