Coonoor - Misty Blue Mountains

Coonoor is a rather sleepy tea town - at least , that's what the usual description of this small town nestled in the Nilgiri mountains says. To me, it wasn't sleepy at all. As a child, there was always so much to do and discover. I traipsed around the place without let or hindrance, much to my mother's disapproval of my skinned knees and windblown hair. I climbed grassy hill sides, ate berries, plucked ferns, played with friendly calves or goats and went flower-picking with my friends. Coonoor was a safe place then and thirty years later, it doesn't seem to have changed in that respect. But lower Coonoor has gotten more crowded and jaded, the traffic has increased manifold and where once, a gentle quiet reigned, the raucous honking of cars fills the air.
Upper Coonoor hasn't changed very much, thank God! Both St. Joseph's Anglo-Indian Convent for Girls and Stanes High School are still the same. The familiar sights of the chapel and nuns' living quarters at the first and the logo of 'Nisi Dominus Frustra' at the other were welcome to my eyes. The principal's cottage where we once stole strawberries from, was shut but evoked many memories - rotund Mr. Wood and his beautiful daughter Anne, his fat Labrador, Simba, basking in the sun. Funny how childhood impressions are so strong!
The Ritz Hotel is now Velan Ritz and wears a tired look. Its signature stuffed bison is gone - I hope to a far gentler place than on earth. The Raja of Chettinad's summer dwelling is still shrouded in royal mystery behind forbidding gates. The green expanse of the Golf Links glitters in the afternoon sunshine just as it did thirty years ago. Wellington's Defence College is still a stern off-limits place. How can a town stand still in time and yet change so much in other respects? It was undiluted pleasure for me and my family to see that the ghat roads still gave on the most incredible views. The roads were bad in parts but motorable. The road repair gangs fight an eternal battle against the incessant rain that turns many roads into slush and gravel. But once you grit your teeth through that ordeal, journey's end can be a heart-lifting panorama of valleys and blue peaks shrouded in the shola forests with microscopic roads winding through them.
And the names! Exotic, decadently Victorian names. Hill View, Orange Grove, Clovelly, Llanelly, Pleasant View, Glendale, Wallwood Garden, Hampton Court, Quail Hill, Figure-of-Eight Road. If it wasn't for the steady hum of Tamil and Malayalam all around you, you would think that you were back in the Raj and even now, a sola-topee clad English officer will ride out from the hidden bend in the road. I know that as a patriotic Indian I shouldn't say this - but I have to give those long-forgotten, intrepid Englishmen their due. They persevered in a strange land far from home and laid roads, railways, gardens and churches that even today give Coonoor its unique flavour. God bless their memory!
Next post - Places to See!