I have been feeling a little sleepless. since i have been back to this city. I never really liked the idea of me leaving my place but then what the power of a fancy job can do to a young lass in early 20s and an aspiration to become a read and publish fiction writer. For me, this city had been a place of robots, no, not because i didn’t like it but because of how people are so busy in their little world and caring less about the existence of an intriguing southern part of India.
Historically, well established but there has been alot in it which is still undercover and the dirt hasn’t been removed from the treasure of facts and figures or i’d consider as ‘knowledge’.
It was very fine day, 24 degrees celcius Bengalurean weather, a lit bit humid and more of a shiny bright light striking of mirrors our motorvehicles. A perfect morning to start and kick off myself to begin my business day.
Around mid afternoon , i left for a place where i spend my 9 hours of my life everyday. while traveling i’d look at my surroundings. i believe that everything that surrounds us has a story of its own like an every individual residing in this beautiful world. I like to dig deeper and deeper in the stories behind an object, which could be a person or place of interest or linguistically a ’noun’, I work with alot of people, people of different tastes, people of different background and places. some places are known and some places are burried under the earth’s crust. some has histories and some has manipulated facts. i wonder why there is a need of altering the past of a culture!
i was bemused in my thoughts when suddenly I heard -“Hey, we need your arse over here, could you please have the benign pleasure by seating here’? said one of the boss to me that day. I was already in a messy mood but what can we do? when there is call of boss, chuckled my thoughts inside my brain.
Now i understand, how fate rolls its dies and throw you in a something very interesting situations. There is always something behind each and every twist. I know, many of you might be wondering what was a twist of someone calling me to sit in a different place but i will leave you at your opinions to judge.
My boss, Mr. K hails from kodagu district of karnataka, very famously known as “Coorg”. I know Mr. K since last year’s autumns. He has been very nice to me since the begining of my corporate career. I always wondered if he really has its roots from Kodagu district as his appearence has always left us in dilemna. He is 5’11, strong and widely built. A bearded guy, pierced from the left ear which would question us about its roots. As compared to average southie, he doesn’t fit in the criteria of a southern Indian human.
That very day, I braced my self and asked him, “Mr. K, i always wanted to ask you without offending you but is it possible by any chance that you could belong to the north western belt of north india?” smiled Mr.K and proudly rose from his seat and described his native.
Coorg, a place where many people have visited on bikes, cars and have taken photos of the beautifully hand crafted environment by mother nature, herself but unfortunately not all of us are aware of the this place and the hidden history.
That moment i realised, how naive i have been. I urged Mr.K to detail us about the untold stories and he has promised me that he wil unveil the untested fact of his and other lass and lad appearance of coorgie origin, the untouched crust of coorg by innumerous kings who ruled Indian Sub-continent and how the history is manupulated and doing prejudice the coorgie origins.