Drive to Ooty, Coonoor, and Wayanad (Part 1 of 2)

Being driven to…, rather than Drive to…, will be factual.

Chandru, my co-brother, was at the wheel in the newly acquired Honda Amaze. Yes, Chandra, my sister-in-law, had gifted it to him (themselves?) using partly her retirement-settlement amount, as a token of gratitude for having driven her to innumerable places in their earlier Wagon R. I would have given Chandru a helping hand in the drive. But his is a gear version, and I am accustomed to automatic transmission.

“So, we start at 6 in the morning on the dot,” proposed Chandru at the end of our preparatory meeting the previous night. “Should be no problem, since all are adults,” seconded Chandra.

And lo, next morning, there we were inside the car right earnest - at 6.35. Yes, at the last minute Chandru chose not to inaugurate the new pair of shoes his son had brought for him from US, and stuck to his trusted old pair. Chandra cashed in on the extra moments to quickly change her dress to one that fitted best the occasio. (No wonder she is fondly called the trendy lady among the six sisters.)

Aunty didn’t want to lag behind. She prepared extra cups of coffee to all rather than let the excess decoction and milk go stale on return. And you, Uncle? Well, under the spell of obsessive-compulsive disorder, I checked all over again if the windows and doors were closed, electrical connections switched off and, above all, if I had kept the wet-waste bin outside, so that it didn’t stink as last time.

What started off initially as a group-chat during the drive unwittingly dwindled into two groups – the two ladies at the back, with volumes deliberately getting low on occasions and, Chandru and I in the front, on the inevitable Modi Vs Rahul.

Gradually lull took over. Everyone except Chandru had begun to doze off, courtesy early morning wake-up. A sudden brake on the way brought Chandra alive. “Oh, my God, it’s time for breakfast,” she alerted. “How about Kamat, asked one. “Or, A2B,” suggested another. “Or the nearest one, because nothing works on an empty stomach,” suggested Chandru. And there we were in the nearest restaurant enjoying steaming Idli, crispy Vada, and coffee to down them.

With stomachs full, Chandru declared that Ooty would be the next where we would stop. “Unless,” amended Chandra, “we stop for a while to stretch our legs and have a cup of coffee on the way.”

“How about some soothing music, for the rest of the route,” asked Chandru. And, without waiting for a response he began loading the album, Solid Gold, featuring the best songs composed by Madan Mohan.

These numbers have a knack to take you down the memory lane. “One such,” I said, is “Jalte hai jiske liye that Sunil Dutt sings over the telephone to Nutan, in Sujata, directed by Bimal Roy. This was an SD Burman composition, though,” I added.  Chandra took on, and said, “I can’t forget another scene of Bimal Roy’s in Bandini, where Nutan poisons her lover’s wife, only to repent inconsolably.

And that led Chandru, singer of a sort, to hum a few numbers as he drove, till a 10-wheeler monstrous truck behind us racing at 120 kmph to meet his delivery schedule, repeatedly honked, and Chandru had to give in meekly. Moral: Don’t get involved too much in activities other than driving when on a highway.

Now began the signboards, “Ooty ….km,” to give us relief. Soon Chandru was serious, engaged in the most arduous task of negotiating an uphill drive with 36 hairpin bends. He did it admirably. He clarified that he had done it several times at several places. That gave me great relief that we were in safe hands.

There we were, in the home-away-from-home Ooty lodge with the amiable owner greeting us with an infectious smile.

Part 2, Touring Ooty, Coonoor and Wayanad.