After the overnight journey from Bangalore, my eyes opened themselves to the greenest sight I had seen in quite some time. All around me lay undulating green hills, hidden in portions by fleeting clouds. It cleansed my strained eyes of urban grime and eyesores. And as the luxury bus rolled through the serpentine roads near Manipal, I stretched my hands out to feel the faint morning drizzle. It was a perfect reception to an unforgettable trip.
Maravanthe, even in the monsoons with the accompanying murky skies and choppy waters, is luring enough to make traffic pause on the highway. Standing on NH17, at the point where it cuts between the Sowparnika River and the Arabian Sea, you have a view that for long will remain unmatched. I can still see the waves lash against the shore, juxtaposed against the gentle ripples lapping at the riverbank in the same frame. Maravanthe does not fade from your mind, but lingers on.