monsoon beauty

Have you ever heard the sound of rushing water beating the ground so hard that you can't hear yourself think? The kind that resonates through your body like the Niagara? Perhaps then you can understand a monsoon in the Kerala mountains.

For Shanti Bhavan's two-week September holiday, some of the volunteers and I decided to travel through the South Indian state of Kerala, a land of diverse terrains. After a week of beaches and backwaters, Laura and I decided to split off from the group and go further inland, into the mountainous region of Thekkady and Munnar.

Upon our arrival in Thekkady, we were greeted by the most intense rains I have ever encountered. Like thousands of faucets in the sky had been turned on at full blast - as if to compensate for the lack of shower water throughout the country - the water came down in streams, not droplets. After a day of riding elephants and seeing tea plantations, our driver Saneesh (a local that worked at our hotel) and his friend decided to take us through the most beautiful place I have even seen. With palm trees and jungle on our right side, and rice paddies on the left, Laura and I passed through the land encircled by mountains. On motorcycles.

Inevitably, the sun quickly disappeared, and it began to pour. After driving through fields and jungle for awhile, the four of us sought shelter under the thatched roof of the first house we came across. Drenched and cold, Laura and I huddled together, shivering. An elderly woman who lived in the house came outside and spoke with Saneesh in Malayalam, the regional language. She went inside and emerged with cups of tea. Her home was the size of a walk-in closet. As poor as she was, and despite the terrible weather, she still managed to display generous hospitality. In this beautiful land, there are beautiful people.