SRI EXPLORES: COUTRALLAM EP03

From November 2021 to March 2024, I lived in Coutrallam, just 1.5 km from the main Coutrallam Falls and the Thirukutralanathar Temple, which is adjacent to the falls. While one might assume that residing in such a picturesque area, surrounded by waterfalls and iconic tourist destinations, would be a constant source of enjoyment, the reality is more nuanced. Although I had a wonderful time, as you might already know, experiences are subjective. Living in Coutrallam year-round is challenging due to the harsh weather conditions. Residents endure extreme heat waves in April and May, turbulent winds in June and July, incessant rains from August to October, and chilling, wet conditions in November and December. January and February offer pleasant weather, but the high radiation from sunlight reflecting off the mountains can be intense. By March, dehydration and humidity become significant issues. Additionally, mischievous monkeys create disturbances throughout the year. Surviving in this region requires careful preparation to face these obstacles. From what I observed, only business owners, outcasts, and individuals like myself chose to live in this unique area. During my two precious years there, I cherished the taste of the water, the scent of the herbs and flowers in the air, the touch of the Thendral winds from the Western Ghats, the sight of the Agastya muni via Podhigai hills, and most importantly, the beloved people of Tenkasi. The natives are never too busy to ignore anyone who approaches them for a conversation. Everyone was more than willing to sit and chat about the random things they had learned over the years, much like talking to my grandmother. People in my area knew who I was before I even introduced myself, making it easy to engage in conversations without the need for small talk. The villagers, who closely monitored the area, were pleased to have a non-alcoholic person around. They felt safer having bachelors in the vicinity, as long as they were not troublemakers.

Every morning, I would wake up at 4 am, take a bath, and spend time at my work desk until the first light arrived. With no neighbors nearby, I enjoyed the sounds of insects chirping, roosters crowing, and peacocks honking. In Coutrallam, an age-old panchayat system is still in place. Every day, at specific hours, the panchayat siren would wail to alert everyone to the time. In the farming society, people from various tribes worked in fields and forests, using the siren sounds to guide them throughout the day. At exactly 6 am, when the first siren sounded, I would go up to the terrace. Monkeys would emerge from the nearby forest and start entering human-occupied areas to scavenge or steal food. The bird activity in Coutrallam is diverse. I would see eagles visiting the land in front of my home to pick sticks for their nests. Common kingfishers would arrive and sit next to my window if I played nice Ilayaraja songs. Red-rumped swallows flew in an enchanting manner, and mynas would sit on my bike, checking themselves out in the rear-view mirror. Many other species, whose names I don’t know, would fly around singing songs. I would sit on the terrace, watching the sunlight slowly change the colors of the Agastya hills as the clouds moved away. The birds’ orchestra began at 5 am, lasted until 10 am, and then recommenced at 4 pm, lasting until 7 pm. Around 7 am, I would leave my home for a ride through the tranquil green countryside roads to reach Tenkasi for my early morning breakfast. On the way, I would stop at a roadside soup vendor’s shop. RamaLakshmi akka would be ready with two types of soups every day. The varieties included horse gram soup, balloon vine soup, drumstick leaves soup, pepper-garlic soup, Tanner’s cassia flower soup, and occasionally, vegetable soup. People who wanted to heat up their bodies or clean their intestines would drink the soup for ten rupees per glass. For those who wanted to cool down and heal their stomachs, she offered coconut milk, sugarless beetroot juice, carrot juice, pumpkin juice, and banana stem juice for just 15 rupees per glass. However, juices and soups were not the only things she offered. She also made other food products like groundnut laddu, millets laddu, sesame seeds laddu, black gram pudding, sprouted lentil salads, and boiled cassava. Some days, I preferred to eat what she had made and skipped my breakfast altogether. If she didn’t set up her shop, I would visit Venkatesh ayya’s soup shop, where I could get special Ashtapathy soup, which could heal a sore throat effortlessly. Both vendors would invite their customers with wide smiles and freely converse while doing business. They took an interest in learning new things from their customers. The symphony of the birds continued up until their shops and until I reached the main traffic zones.

In Tenkasi, my go-to breakfast spot was a small shop called “Eegai.” They offered a variety of delicious and affordable items: Idli and Poori for ₹7 each, Aloo Masala for ₹10, Pongal for ₹30, Medhu-vadai for ₹10, Vegetable-vadai for ₹15, samosa for ₹10, onion bonda for ₹15, and masal-vadai for ₹10. You couldn’t find better-tasting food at such low prices anywhere else in Tenkasi. Located near the Tenkasi Vishwanathar temple, you can find “Eegai” by walking down the road next to “Bombay Stores” until you reach the dead end. The owner, Kathiresan, is a 40-year-old man with a grumpy demeanor but a deep knowledge of engineering and spirituality. He treats his customers like family, but he has a strict no-phone policy while eating, often scolding or even taking away phones if used during meals. Kathiresan is dedicated to providing good food at nominal prices for the working-class community and keeps his shop open every day except Sundays, as he dislikes serving the tourist crowd. I had breakfast at “Eegai” 80% of the days during my two years in Tenkasi. If I skipped breakfast, I would visit for lunch, enjoying their variety of rice dishes and vadais. Since Kathiresan didn’t serve dinner, I would head to “Moorthy Tea Stall” near Oppanai Pillayar Temple around 7:30 pm. Their Chappathi and Channa Dal were town favorites, and they also served various dosais, idli, pongal, poori masala, curd-vadai, and sambar-vadai. On Fridays, they had Idiyappam and vegetable shorba. Despite its name, this place did not offer tea or coffee. They too were closed on Sundays. On Sundays, I would visit the “MS Dhoni” restaurant in Melagaram. They served dosais, idlies, parotta, and Chappathi. Master made excellent Poondu Dosai, Mushroom Dosai, Onion uthappam, Kothu Parotta, and Kothu Chappathi. I often took my friends there when they visited. In Coutrallam, most eateries were tourist traps with low standards, except for “Dilli Kadai,” run by a man from the Saurashtra region. They offered great South Indian breakfast and dinner, with an unforgettable coconut chutney and the best garlic dosai I’ve ever tasted. The shop is located next to the bridge in Coutrallam. Towards the end of my stay, a new high-class vegetarian hotel called “Sri Madhuram” opened in Melagaram. It reminded me of the early days of Saravana Bhavan, targeting tourists and devotees who struggled to find decent pure veg options in Coutrallam. Most hotels in the Tenkasi region are non-vegetarian with low standards, and I hope this trend changes soon.

Sometimes, my routine would change slightly. During the rainy season, I would wake up at 4 am, work until 6 or 7, have some groundnut chikkis for breakfast, and then go back to sleep. There wasn’t much to do when it rained heavily, so it was best to stay indoors. Getting drenched in that rain could be quite overwhelming. However, riding, driving, or cycling during the drizzling hours in Coutrallam was a refreshing and cleansing experience. On drizzly mornings, I enjoyed heading to an “Appam Shop” run by a grandmother. She would make as many appams as you wanted, served with her iconic spicy sambar and chutney. If it was drizzling in the evening, I would go for some sukku kaapi and small vadais. Durga Tea Stall, a roadside shop in Melagaram near the bus stop, made Ulundu Vadai with various types of locally sourced spinach, served with a glass of sukku coffee (without milk). The homemade recipe, using local herbs, was perfect for the weather. Everything would be so wet outside that we had to regularly clean the house to prevent fungus. It rained continuously for three months, making cleaning a habit. Regardless of the season, regular cleaning made the rest of the day better. Clean floors felt pleasurable to walk on, fresh air made the space productive, and we became more aware of where everything was located in the house, like a 3D room in a computer. Being conscious of everything in your space is a great feeling. I believe that hidden secrets in one’s space can fuel unresolved conflicts. So, when sharing the house, we communicated daily about any changes made when the other person wasn’t around. Verbal conflicts were seen as opportunities to better understand each other’s minds. Each person took responsibility for their respective areas without expecting rewards, making cleaning a territorial affair and a great pastime during incessant rain, especially during power cuts. In peak summer, Ramalakshmi akka sold pearl millet koozh and ragi koozh for just ₹20 per chombu at 10:30 am. It helped me stay hydrated and take a much-needed rest in the afternoon. Every laborer took that one-hour nap, understanding its importance for generations. The intense sunlight made our heads hot and confused, but a nap for an hour or two balanced the body temperature and refreshed us to work extra hours, as the sun set only at 7:30 pm. Routines changed as per nature’s demand but never due to laziness.

Winters were perfect for bathing in the waterfalls, especially at Five Falls and Agastyar Falls near Papanasam. These spots were less crowded, and the cold water provided a refreshing massage. Occasionally, sudden rain on the mountaintops would cause the waterfalls to surge. News of these sudden floods would trend on Twitter before we even woke up. My mom would call me in the morning, worried about the floods in Coutrallam Falls, often knowing about them from TV before I did, despite me living in the area. When it rained on the mountaintops, the waterfalls would flow for over four days. The water came from the Sitraru River, originating from the top of the Coutrallam hills. A large lake at the top would overflow, feeding the waterfalls and eventually the streams and anicuts on the plains. The water passed through a jungle area known as “Thaenn Aruvi,” famous for its honeybee hives. It’s said that drops of honey occasionally fall into the water, giving it a unique sweet taste. The river then flows through thousands of herbs growing along the Podhigai hills, imparting a medicinal flavor to the water. The stream flows through Shenbaga Devi Waterfalls, located above the main Coutrallam Falls. Every full moon day, devotees trek to the ancient Shenbaga Devi shrine in the forest. I visited the shrine once and enjoyed a breathtaking top-down view of the lands surrounding the Coutrallam hills. Only tribals and forest officers are allowed to trek past the temple. Drinking the heavy water of the Sitraru River was invigorating. An open pipe outside the Thirukuttralanaadhar temple brought water directly from the stream, which we used as drinking water instead of buying canned water. The temple’s architecture is stunning, but I’ll discuss the temple in another post. Most of the time, Coutrallam was calm and serene, but during June and July, tourists flocked to the region, bringing noise and pollution. Few visited during the heavy rainfall months of August to October, when flash floods could be deadly. Winter was a beautiful season, attracting mainly spiritual tourists on their way to Sabarimala. The Sitraru River feeds all nine falls on the Coutrallam hills: Main Falls, Five Falls, Shenbaga Devi Falls, Thenaruvi, Chitraruvi, Tiger Falls, Fruit Garden Falls, Old Falls, and New Falls. It also supplies water to the Gundar Dam. The Gudar region has multiple private falls that families enjoy visiting.

Living in Coutrallam costs an individual around ₹12,000 to ₹15,000 per month if expenses are shared with another person. If not, the cost rises to ₹18,000 to ₹20,000. This estimate is for outsiders; locals would have a different perspective. While ₹20,000 may seem modest compared to city living expenses, the lack of community support makes individual living costs higher. Just as the Sitraru River sustains the waterfalls, my friends in India and abroad have supported me in pursuing my dreams. In the post-COVID era, my community is a global network of individuals connected through the internet. I’m reaching out by sharing the stories I experienced without withholding any information or knowledge gained. I hope you enjoyed this episode. There’s much more to explore in the Coutrallam Travel Series. In the next episode, I’ll write about Thirukuttralanadhar Temple and Chithra Sabha on the way to Five Falls. Thank you for your continuous support. Stay connected.