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Kerala in the monsoon
Somewhere between tongue twisters and heaven lie Idukki, Ilaveezhapoonchira and Thommankuthu.
Text and photos By Letha Jose

The leaves that carpet the ground are wet from the previous night's rain. It's six in the morning and pitch dark except for the light from Rajappan’s torch. We had coaxed him into taking us along to the rubber estate where he collects latex – tapping as the process is called – from hundreds of rubber trees. There are many others like him who have already fanned out across the estate collecting latex from the bowls attached to the rubber trees. It is hard to imagine that these few millilitres of viscous white liquid will soon turn into a multitude of products that we use in our everyday life, from car tyres to shoe soles.

We are in Kerala, a state in the southwestern tip of India, which has successfully marketed itself over the last few years with the catchphrase 'God's Own Country'. Monsoon is not the tourist season in Kerala, but if you want to romance the rains there's no time or place like this. A thousand and one waterfalls dot your way and hundreds of underground springs come to life tickling your feet as you walk the land which takes you by surprise by the different shades of green it has to offer.

A land of great natural beauty, with the Arabian Sea on the west and Western Ghats towering 500-2,700m to the east, Kerala is one of the most densely populated, culturally mixed and politically unusual states in the world. It's the size of Switzerland and supports a population of 29mn people. That's 747 people per sq km compared with 234 in the UK, 160 in Switzerland, 26 in the US, 21 in Canada, 12 in New Zealand and just two in Australia. In 1957 Kerala also became the first state in the world to bring to power a communist government via democratic elections rather than revolution. From the majestic heights of the Western Ghats, the state undulates westward, presenting a vista of silent valleys clothed in the richest green. Kerala, selected by National Geographic as one of the 50 must-see destinations in the world, is networked by endless backwaters and the deltas of 44 rivers that glide across the plains to merge their waters with the Arabian sea. And, nestled in the lush green forests of the Western Ghats are 14 wildlife sanctuaries. Skirting these exotic destinations are some of the most delightful trails in the country. Some of them exciting for their adventure prospects, others enchanting in equal measure, all washed in the spice-scented air of endless acres of plantations – tea, coffee, cardamom, vanilla, rubber, pepper, oranges, mangoes....

Coming back to the rubber estate, we follow Rajappan as he empties bowl after bowl of latex into the container he has tied to his waist. But then, why are we here, following Rajappan on this damp July morning, instead of being on a houseboat cruising the backwaters as most would? Of course, a cruise is one of the best ways to experience Kerala, but then there is so much more to the land than what has been marketed zealously. This region is not just about houseboats, backwaters, ayurveda and kathakali, as most would imagine. It is this realisation that seems to have propelled the authorities into repackaging certain aspects of its marketing of the state.

For a land known around the world for centuries for its variety of spices, it is only recently that the authorities have come up with a programme called the Spice Tourism Circuit to tap this potential. Designed to give tourists an opportunity to have a first hand feel of the propagation of spices, the Spice Tourism Circuit is a project that offers memorable visits to various spice plantations in Kerala and the nearby state of Tamil Nadu. The project makes sense when you look at the estates that dot Kerala. Most of these have spices like cardamom, nutmeg, cinnamon and pepper as well as cash crops like coconuts, cocoa beans, vanilla, coffee and rubber. Under this joint initiative of the Ministry of Tourism and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), local people are encouraged to provide accommodation for tourists so that they get a real taste of Kerala – home cooked meals included.

Kerala is a tiny place, just a slender green sliver of 15,003 square miles, but trying to cover it in a few days is criminal; it won't do justice to either the place or you. That's why we decided to confine ourselves to some of the less explored areas of a less explored district in the state – Idukki. Despite being one of the most beautiful places in Kerala, Idukki is relatively unexplored thanks to its comparative inaccessibility. Idukki translates into 'narrow gorge', but it is the land of majestic mountains, wondrous valleys and spectacular streams and waterfalls.

Rubber estate explored, we turn to Rajappan, our reluctant guide, once again. "Where can we go now?" "Thekkady, Munnar, Iravikulam National Park, Peermedu," he reels off the names of the well documented tourism circuit. "Please show us some place which won't be crowded," we plead. He gives us this 'where have you nuts come from' kind of a look but finally acquiesce, suggesting tongue twisters of two places – Ilaveezhapoonchira and Thommankuthu.

Two days later at nine in the morning on a rain soaked day we are at Melukavu village, the base point from where you have to go to Ilaveezhapoonchira. That the people there are not used to outsiders wanting to go up "that godforsaken place where nothing grows" is obvious from the curious looks we get. But there is no dearth of help forthcoming. "Your car won't go up. Either you have to trek up the four kilometres or take a Jeep (local synonym for any four-wheel drive)," we are informed. But then, where's the Jeep? "Call Kesavan from home," a grocery shop owner directs his assistant. Soon we are sitting in his shop, sipping piping hot tea from the neighbourhood tea stall, with curious schoolchildren waiting for the local bus giving us those amused looks as we wait for Kesavan and his jeep. Rajappan is clearly uncomfortable with all the attention he's getting and is grumpy. "You should have gone to Thekkady, nobody would have bothered," he told me at least ten times in the 30 minutes we waited for Kesavan.

The Jeep – a Mahindra Jeep Classic – arrives with Kesavan at the helm. "The road is bad, I can take only two persons," he declares without much fanfare. Rajappan is only too happy to opt out. The road up – if you can call the narrow rocky pathway that – is so steep and slippery and strewn with pebbles and boulders washed down from the top that we are surprised that Kesavan has agreed to do the trip. The drive up, at least during the monsoon, is definitely not for the fainthearted. Every now and then Kesavan pulls up the handbrake, gets out of the Jeep and removes a boulder blocking the way, leaving us precariously perched on his 4WD, sandwiched between a steep valley and a rocky mountain. There were times when we doubted our wisdom in undertaking this trip, breathtaking scenery notwithstanding.

Two kilometres up the climb we hit better land. The smell of lemongrass pervades as the tyres crush them underneath. "Oh that's just weed, not even cows eat that," Kesavan says dismissively. We are soon at the highest point, but can't really see much below as the rains have brought the mist with them.

Waiting for the mist to clear, we decide to explore the area. Lemongrass grows all around boulders polished to a mirror-like perfection by the vagaries of time and nature and the surreal atmosphere is heightened by mist hanging about pools formed by the rain. All that's lacking is a rainbow, we muse. All of a sudden the mist lifts and the panorama unveils itself. Surrounded by three hillocks – Mankunnu, Kodayathoormal and Thonippara – Ilaveezhapoonchira is 55km from Kottayam, one of the better known towns of Kerala. To get to Ilaveezhapoonchira from Kottayam, it is better to ask for directions to Thodupuzha, from where it is just 20km.

The next day we find ourselves on the way to Thommankuthu, minus Rajappan. He seems to have had enough of us. The grocery shop owner at Melukavu was all smiles as he handed over a note Rajappan had scrawled in Malayalam in his untidy handwriting. It simply stated: “Going back home, will have dinner ready by the time you are back”. Of course, dinner was ready, but there was no sign of Rajappan till the time we left for Thommankuthu. The drive to Thommankuthu, located 17km north of Thodupuzha in the Kaliar Range, up a winding road in the Thodupuzha Reserve Forest, is an experience in itself, with a stream here and a waterfall there and just intermittent signs of human habitation. We stop by a river, fascina-ted by eddies in the water, which has turned muddy due to the heavy rains. Despite the temptation to test the waters, we are content to watch from the sidelines, already warned about the dangers of these monsoon eddies that can suck you in.

We are hungry; a missing Rajappan translates to no food. As if by divine intervention, a wayside toddy shop surprises us in the middle of nowhere. Soon we are licking our fingers after a hearty meal of tapioca with meat and fish curry. Toddy shops are a regular feature all over Kerala and serves toddy, a drink extracted from the coconut palms with lip-smacking local dishes. A word of caution though: venture in only if you are capable of taking extra spicy food.

As we drive in the single lane road in the forest, letting the silence and solitude sink in, Thommankuthu takes us by surprise – by its abrupt appearance, sheer splendour and above all the roar of a million cubic metres of water cascading down a 200ft rock face. There's nothing tranquil about the place despite the seclusion. Legend has it that Thomban, a powerful tribal chief in the Adappan hills, died in the waterfall (kuthu in the local language) while attempting to cross the river, giving it the name.

Tranquility, we soon discover, is upstream. As we embark on a 12 kilometre trek in the forest that local people say will take you to a series of 12 waterfalls, we hardly come across more than half a dozen people. With no road mapped out for us, we make our own path by the river with its pools and waterfalls. When you are in God's own country, surprises never seem to end. Out of the blue, we stumble upon a tree house perched above the river, sitting pretty on a Mayila tree. Tree houses, also known as erumadom, are built on top of trees using coir mats, bamboo poles and hay straws. Earlier used as a safe abode by the tribals in forests, these tree houses now give a tranquil view of the jungle and its surroundings and are ideal places for a short rest.

Deep inside the forest, with no one to tell us where to go or which way to take, we are our own masters and guides and are overcome by a feeling of unrestrained freedom, as if we can map our destiny if we wish so. But this may change. The site is being developed by the government as an eco-tourism centre. An information centre is already up, though it was closed when we reached. There are also plans to set up bathing areas, bird-watching centres, medicinal plant gardens, promenades and boating facilities. Even then, the best way to enjoy the panoramic beauty will be the 12-km trek that takes one to the top of the mountain. As of now, only day trips are feasible owing to the lack of boarding and lodging facilities – the nearest is in Thodupuzha, unless you fancy spending the night in a tree house.

As dusk falls we retreat, worrying whether our guide has disappeared forever. We needn't have worried – as the car pulls up at the bungalow where we are staying, there's Rajappan, all smiles, serving us piping hot food, obviously relieved at the knowledge that we will be gone the next day. May his next guests be people who want to go to Thekkady and Munnar, we sincerely wish.

As our plane takes off, we take one last look at the greenery below. So much left unexplored, we muse. May be another day, another time.