Travelogues  
India Revisited – 9

Neria

We had safely reached Mangalore, against all odds, without any delays. A day later, we were on our way (yes, in another Toyota Qualis) to Neria, which is exactly 52 miles (you do the math in kilometers) from Mangalore. It is my ancestral village and the history of Hebbars in Neria goes back to the year 1130 A. D. The house there has seen many changes but has stood in its current location for more than 250 years. It is the only house of my growing years that I have grown attached to. During all our visits to India, the trip to Neria always is a highlight for all of us.

The rustic village setting with its rain forest, verdant valleys, the neat rows of trees of the rubber estates, and the mountains with dancing streams offer tranquil, soothing surroundings. For a city-worn tired ailing mind, the December air is remarkably salubrious. We always keep half a day for a dip in the river and nudge our heads against small waterfalls, which form as the water rushes over rocks and small boulders. The frothy water pouring over the rocks create a constant buzz in the silence of the forest.

A visit to the family temple gives me the inner peace that I cannot find anywhere else. Though we would have liked to hike the mountains, which certainly would have taken more time, we had to resort to a jeep ride to the top to see the view as well as the coffee estates. The view one gets from the top is as good as any I have seen in Western India, of rolling hills and large valleys. When we leave Neria, we always feel we have not spent enough time there. I used to get this feeling even when I used to spend my summer vacations there. With a heavy heart, we tore ourselves away from Neria and returned to Mangalore. The following poem will give you a better understanding about my feeling about Neria.

My vacations were spent in the quaint Neria village,
Surrounded by the mountains and hills of rain forest,
Where the farmers battle monsoon rains with courage,
Here I came to be rejuvenated, to relax, unwind and rest.

Hot summer days were spent cooling off in the stream,
Cooler days called for a peaceful stroll or a brisk hike,
Listening to the stillness of the forest, and its gleam,
Watching the flowers and birds, and the poses they strike.

Days well spent with introspection and forethought,
At nights, noisy crickets chirping, in my peaceful slumber.
At the crack of dawn, as the dew drops in the sunlight caught,
Came the glory of sun; the azure skies with shades of amber.

With all my worries, fears and trepidations resolved,
I reluctantly departed with my emotions churned,
To the city I went, with all my wits preserved,
Yet when seeking peace, to Neria I always returned.

– Continued

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