Beyond The Tourist Trail: Unearthing A Haunting Legend In Wayanad

The invigorating scent of the spices still wafts through the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of rain-soaked soil and the sweet fragrance of blossoming coffee blooms. The smell of coffee blooms can rival jasmines or honey locks. This quaint hill station is unusually hot. Temperatures are touching 28 degrees in summer, something unheard of in these parts. I am on my usual sojourn to Wayanad. I set my eyes on this beautiful slice of earth for the first time as a boy of ten. I still remember my first visit with my sister. I was accompanying her to her husband's home. My brother-in-law's family had dwelled in this place for three centuries. They lived amid a coffee plantation, and for a person born and raised in the coastal city of Cochin, this new home was a magical world for my sister. It was love at first sight. I decided to own a piece of this paradise then, but it took me another 23 years to achieve it. I have my own home here now, nestled in the valley of the towering Chembra Peak, and this is where I come every month to write my stories.