I live in Kerala. There are no mountains here. Only the hills. The evergreen hills of the Western Ghats. As November approaches, the rains have departed and new life has already sprouted. The rubber plantations are greener than ever and the tea estates have new life and vigour in them. Soaking in all these, December lulls by and you are in a festive mood. Christmas and new year beckons you and its family time. Cousins and aunts will come to our ‘Tharavadu’ – the ancestral home – and here we would be spending time making merry and goofing around. Officially the winters are upon us but there is no snow or cold associated with it. The mornings are chill and there will hang a mist till eight in the morning on some days.
And every year at this time, we travel to the hills nearby. There are lots of options available for us and we explore a new one everytime. Here we experience a bit more cold, we have to wrap ourselves in shawls and sweaters that some of my cousins have brought from the North from their travels. The grown ups would be wearing their jackets and as kids we would be covered in colourful sweaters and beanies and even monkey caps.
In the evenings we would all sit together for the evening tea and hot snacks. Our mothers would make ‘Pazhampori’ – banana fritters – and it would be a fight for who gets to eat the maximum. Our enthusiasm would be quelled quickly as they would be piping hot and we would be blowing on our tongues and shooing away our burnt tongues. This spectacle would always invite great laughter from the elders and it would become a routine on these trips.
As the tea and snacks come to an end we would be wrapped in a sudden envelope of fog that had floated in from the valley below. The valley which was lush green and exhibiting all the shades of green, would suddenly be engulfed in this white mist and soon enough you too are engulfed in it. The mist seems to be fondling you – it plays with you, teases you and makes you strain your eyes to see who is near you – and the temperature starts to drop steadily. The mothers would now come rushing with the shawls but we would dismiss them and enjoy the mists and would run around in them, soaking all the pleasure it has to offer.
We were bereft of the mountains or the proper snowy winters here. But we made the most of it by heading it into the hills. And this emotion has always stayed with me. The peace and harmony and most importantly the unity this season brings is something I can never say no to. It has become a tradition of sorts in our family and as I write this, plans are being made for the Christmas holidays. Another memory in the making, in our beloved green hills.
#HillsOverBeaches
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