Baba Budangiri was a Baba for no mere reason. He knew he had found gold in the dark beans, that he carried to the Mullyanagiri peak years back. He held the pouch with a heart full of hope and planted the bean with gratitude.
He knew the Chikmagalur rains would allow the beans to blossom. Then one by one as the berries ripened, the aroma created madness in the forests, and there came about the strongest brew, found in entire Karnataka.
Facts like this and more is abound in this land of coffee and conversations.
In Chikmagalur the cicadas constantly hum the tune of melancholy as you sit on your chair overlooking the town ahead, you look up to the darkening skies and hear the roar of a promise. It is the promise of a good honest rain.
Slowly the fat drops fall one by one on the brown gravel below, till it soaks the water in its moist rain-drenched rapture. The leaves, the silver oak trees sway in tandem and you can sense that they have confluenced together in a sweet gentle frenzy.
The bluebird from Bukowski’s poem is found free on the branches ahead, as it shakes its feathers and twists its little head to look up to the sun rays and again flits away into oblivion.
Don’t search for it! It won’t appear if you seek the magic again. If you let it go, it will fly right back on your window sill and chirp the lost tune of nostalgia.
As the rain pounds your heart, play the song of love and allow the rain to kiss you like your first flush of romance.
Monsoon in Chikmagalur is a soft dream with retro songs, piping brew and warm muffins.