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Kemmannagundi
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(Karnataka)


A Monarch's retreat

The way to Kemmannagundi is planted with enough compelling road signs to waylay innocent tourists into some other, seemingly more tempting holiday. But if you stick firmly to your path, skirting the tangential charms of Halebid and Belur, the Chikmagalur coffee estates, and the distant road to Kudremukh, you'll reach a hill that was once preferred by a monarch.
Kemmannagundi is actually a single, secluded hill that's been successfully posing as a hill station ever since King Krishna Rajendra Wodeyar IV made it his summer haven in 1932 from the mercurial British, who kept giving and snatching Mysore from his family.
Kemmannagundi's compact charms views, waterfalls, gardens, all in a day's work make it one of the most fun-filled short holidays from Bangalore. Despite the fact that it has few amenities, and food that breaks the dam on hostel memories, every Saturday morning nuclear families and those loose electrons called college students burst upon this royal getaway that still carries the grand title of Krishna Rajendra Hill Station.
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Tiger or no Tiger
The secrets of the jungle open themselves as you journey through Bhadra Tiger Reserve. The first dusk peeled one layer off the sanctuary like the outer layer of an onion, revealing many more underneath. We had spent close to three hours on the safari ride and hadn't seen much barring the occasional herd of deer. Our water bottles were empty; our minds kept darting fitfully to visions of hot, steaming tea. Huge flies buzzed ceaselessly, their peek-a-boo with the van's sliding windows jarring on our nerves. Our guide told us that these flies can kill an elephant in seven bites.
When a dozen metrophiles go lumbering in, the jungle somehow marches to a different beat. That's not hard to understand; the clatter and din of urban feet can butcher the skeins of stealth that otherwise wrap around the jungle. A tiger would have to be either daft or a man-eater to be conspicuous when wannabe Mowglis come tramping into its territory.
When we finally got back to the Shigekhan guest house in Muthodi, the tea, smelling of wood-smoke, seemed to us like a royal spread. The air was getting nippier and the view from the terrace was spectacular. To the north, along our line of sight, was Kemmannagundi atop the Baba Budan Range.
The woodpecker's steady tap-tap-tap woke us in the morning. As we trekked, the forest panned out gracefully, revealing itself tract by tract. We didn't see anything to brag about, not even a snake, but the forest has a way of insinuating itself into your system. Of revealing itself to you layer by layer.
The gracefulness and charm of Bhadra Tiger Reserve owes not a little to the plentiful bamboo trees. The green-and-yellow clumps are everywhere, spare and straight. Very rarely, we were informed, the bamboo flowers to bring forth grains that resemble wheat; these can actually be milled to make rotis (bread). It's when you are admiring such sights that a flash of wilful and tantalising jungle magic can happen, like a flying squirrel darting across the thick foliage; the suddenness of it peeling off yet another layer and showing you that there is so much to be uncovered.
Content Source: 
Outlook Traveller
Contributed by: 
Anurag Mallick
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