May 7, 2012 § 5 Comments

Vehicles seep through the roots of these hills, steadily eating through their innards and feasting on the sights. They bring in gold, it is said, making all forgivable. Living in a tourist destination ensures summers breeding traffic, garbage and crowds. Bus routes change, exhibitions and festivals spring up, smiles flash from police faces stationed at every corner; we accommodate, we tolerate. All movement is monitored, we are on display.

Unlike Ootacamund, the queen of the hills, we remain an occasionally popular town with more leopard and gaur visiting. Still, sounds of the forest are replaced by those of festivity and street food stalls popping up overnight, as a vegetable show becomes a weekend of visitors for an otherwise quiet hill.


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§ 5 Responses to

  • A beautifully written piece gently suggesting the trials and tribulations of living in a wonderful part of the world that others wish to experience

    • ruthpinto says:

      Thank you, Polly. What is troubling is when tourisms aims to make people feel at home, especially when tourists come from such diverse landscapes. The actual destination is often treated insensitively.

  • That’s often the case – it would be perfect if we could balance the income from tourism with the desire to retain the ethos of the environment, which, after all, is what is attracting the tourists

  • Don Scrooby says:

    Every now and again one stumbles on to gem. Your blog is such a gem. Your expressions are sheer beauty and such a pleasure to read.


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