The Backpacker

Let nature take over

Yes, to begin with you can be forgiven for not having heard of Horsely Hills and also if you have mistakenly thought it was a part of English countryside. Once we have established that, it is only fair to tell you Horsely Hills, though not many would agree, is a nice hill station in Andhra Pradesh, in southern India. It is perched high above the dusty plains of Madanapally a bustling mango and tamarind town.

I was amazed to have heard of this place. Imagine how impressed W D Horsely must have been when he rode his horse right into this place over a century ago!! Well, he was the collector of Chittor then and eventually named this place after him.

In the footsteps of Horsely, the collector chump, I followed to rediscover his paradise.

Make no bones, this place is well connected. But who has heard of a backpacker arriving in style? A bus deposited me at Madanapalli (from Bangalore, 175 km away) and I was left to myself to figure out the best way to reach Horsely Hills. That people took pride in speaking nothing but Telugu was frightening seeing that Telugu is not my language-of- expediency. (Meantime, engaged in the task of seeking information, I failed to see one of the only two buses heading to the hills slip away!!)

The next best thing to do was go half way to the hills. One road takes you to Hyderabad from Madanapalli and after following it for some 10 km it branches off into a smaller, narrow, less used roads which winds up to the hills. I forget the name of the place although you can identify it by its lone tea stall and a dilapidated bus stop facing a field of tomatoes and chilies.

So, through the dusty plains I sped to this fork-in-the-road and alighted in style. The conductor, a cheeky red nosed fellow, raised his cap revealing a bald head and wished me luck. (That explains the cap) Hitchhiking was an option, along with walking and cycling 10 km up the hill. A cycle because the lone-tea wallah had an ancient cycle which he was willing to “loan” me. But after tasting his tea, his cycle lost appeal. I started on foot and inched past obscure villages and mango tree lined ribbon-roads, humming and sometimes even singing. Whistling was beyond me even in the best of times. I spoke to a few pale, brown buffaloes and dogs on the way and munched raw mangoes and got thirstier. Then lo and behold, the sound of an approaching car reached my ears. It was thumbing or walking. I resorted to thumbing.

An old white ambassador car came into view. I stood beside the road respectfully and waved. It passed me by in a cloud of smoke and then stopped. A face appeared out of the window. Taking that as an encouragement I dashed to the car. How nice they looked __ the old couple smiling contentedly and their younger driver looking pleased as though he had led his masters to some secret treasure!!

They even spoke English!!

Off we went like a happy family. Nature suddenly turned kind. With each turn in the road, it changed colors, turning first from light to darker shade of green before bursting into a riot of colors, as though a rainbow had spread itself on the tree tops. We were on the hills. I was surprised to find a school, a hotel and a telephone booth there, although one is required to place an order for a meal two hours in advance. I walked about a bit, feeling the Hills.

Three things I noticed at once. The weather, the sight and the smells. The weather in pleasant, in fact salubrious is the word I like better. It made me want to smile more as it added color to my city-cheeks. Cool breeze blew up the valley kissing the rocks in their upward journey and depositing the fragrance of the plains on the hill top. The place smells of coffee, eucalyptus, sandalwood, mayflowers and bamboo giving it a sweet, tangy mind boggling flavour. I lay under a tree inhaling the smells for a long time.

Then I saw the rocks. There were rocks as far as eyes could see down in the valley, with little pools of water and birds having a time of their lives in it. I watched patiently and was rewarded with the sights of deer drinking from the pools. That sight must have mesmerized me because I did not see a snake crawl over my boots. I saw its tail as it disappear into the bush. Heck, there was no point in screaming either. I stayed the night on the hill. The lodging is fine but usually one must have advance reservation. I was lucky.

The night even more beautiful and haunting. If you are quiet, you can hear the wild dogs, bears and panthers. You are lucky if you see them and VERY lucky if you don’t. The restaurant fellow had told me eerie tales concerning them. One thing about Horsely Hills is that one should not expect anything from it. The whole area can be covered in less than three hours including the time spent staring at the 150-yr old eucalyptus tree with gnarled branches which you cannot climb, alligators in a tiny enclosure, a small park with sad looking birds, a temple hidden under the overgrowth and the museum with a stuffed tiger, a bear and a giant snake.

Here you must let nature take over you. Only then you will be glad to have left behind the cable cars and the discotheques far away. Again in reposed under the blue skies, eating vada and chili fritters and drinking coffee (kaapi) made from buffalo milk and then managing to shoo away the local children and taking their place on the swings. High in the hills, a thing such as a swing made from vines is a blessing.

It allowed me to touch nature.

Luckily I got the last bus back.