I rather enjoyed re-visiting India via my blog the other week. So I went and dug out the diary I faithfully kept. The events it describes have never yet seen the light of day. For the first ten days I was with the group of people my ex-brother-in-law had put together, to explore aspects of rural Indian life, focussing on small producers working in traditional and organic ways. We had no internet access during that period.
I’ve decided to share my diary with you. This will take several Fridays. I’m pleased that I kept such a detailed record of a piece of personal history, and of a country I’d never visited. I wonder how dated this account would seem to the current traveller?
Off to Gurukula
Thursday 15th November
Well, it’s only 6.20, and as usual I haven’t slept much. But the compensation is to hear for the last time the dawn song of the Whistling Thrush. Just the one bird, who at early dawn sounds just like some very contented man, hands in pockets, ambling down the street, whistling carelessly and happily without bothering to keep to any particular kind of tune. We sometimes hear it briefly in the evening too.
The thrush doesn’t start singing at the very beginning of this recording, so just hang on a few seconds!
8.05. We’ve had much of a day already – setting off in the minibus (late as usual) after affectionate goodbyes to Sujata and Ann and the staff such as Harish. Check the bald tyre on the spare! Stop off at Madekeri to photocopy our documents for the Kerala police, comfort break and so on, then … ever onwards. The roads were terrible and the scenery and towns were what we had come to expect and enjoy though we did seem to be descending. Finally, the Kerala border and frontier posts and all that goes with that, and a flurry of communist flags. Not too long before we stopped again for petrol, comfort breaks and chai. By the way, the scenery changed immediately we got through the border to forests of bamboo. We were straight into a National Park, briefly better roads and apparently a slightly better standard of living.
The road up to Gurukula was … worrying. Finding it was one thing. Ascending the single-track with sharp descent one side (my side …) another. The forest however was so lush. Once we arrived in this place – a Botanical Sanctuary – undeveloped for tourism in the way that, say Kew, has been, we were immediately welcomed to lunch (by now 2.30 ish) – 2 veg. curries, homemade yoghourt and poppadoms, twice cooked rice in the Keralan style, followed by yoghourt with wild honey. All v. democratic, so do your own washing up, and then down to inspect the simple accommodation.
A tour of part of the sanctuary in the afternoon (‘Please pee in the garden to nourish the plants’), then tea at 5.30: hunks of watermelon, local oranges, homemade savouries and sweetmeats, and meet everyone.
Then Supi took us up the water tower … one of the most magical experiences of my life. We watched the sun set over the Western Ghats, and the moon rise as the sky darkened and the stars emerged. Silence fell as the night sky intensified. It was wonderful simply to be there. Mullahs from two distant mosques did their Call to Prayer, admittedly using a microphone, but it still provided atmosphere. Others saw shooting stars, though I didn’t … it didn’t matter: I was still enveloped in enchantment.
Meal, as always, was wonderful- mountains of fluffy paneer curry, sourdough chapattis, red rice, dhal, veg. curries (two sorts). Then fill in forms for the Keralan police, and so to bed, if not to sleep …
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
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