Anaimalai: Where It Is Wild To Be Still

Most times, you travel to get away from life. Sometimes, you travel to come closer to yourself, to nature, to the quiet truths that only stillness can offer. My little escapade to Anaimalai—literally meaning elephant mountain—nestled in the Western Ghats of Tamil Nadu, was the latter.This trip was more than just a random adventure into quietness. It was very special to me because it was my quiet ritual of preparation for life, for motherhood, for the million changes that were to come.You see, I was eight months pregnant, carrying not just a child but also the overwhelming energy of the city, the deadlines, the decisions, the constant doing doing doing. My body was slowing down, but my mind was still caught in the madness of being an entrepreneur, a yoga teacher, etc.I knew I needed to step out, to find a space where I could just slow down and recalibrate, not just for me but for the little one growing within. I wanted my baby to feel peace, not pressure; rhythm, not rush. And so I found myself at Banyan Tree Farm, a modest, soul-soothing sanctuary surrounded by fields, forest edges, and the hum of the natural world. It’s not luxury in the conventional sense, but it’s the kind of place that returns you to something powerfully quiet within yourself. There’s something special about falling asleep under a tiled roof as you hear the pitter-patter of rain, waking up to the calls of unknown birds, and brushing your teeth as you see the mist lift from the grass. You remember how little you need to feel happy..The farm is just a stone’s throw from Top Slip, the gateway into the Anaimalai Tiger Reserve. Since the official forest gates were closed, we chose something simpler to do. We went on some long walks with local friends. They took us through the fields and mud paths that wrap around the forest's edge.Here, we didn’t look for animals. We looked for signs. A patch of trampled grass. A fresh pile of elephant dung. Scratch marks on bark. The sense that we were not alone. That we were being watched. And yet, we were safe. One morning, we walked with a local woman who casually mentioned that a tiger had been spotted nearby a week ago. She wasn’t dramatic about it, just a matter of fact. ‘They don’t come without reason… we have been encroaching on their land, so it's not their fault,’ she said. There was no fear in her voice, just awareness. It made me realise how much of our modern fear is rooted in disconnection. We fear what we don’t understand. But here, in Anaimalai, there is a deep understanding. And that makes all the difference..Our three days at the edge of the forest were unhurried and filled with long walks, simple home-cooked meals, and the gentle rhythm of farm life. I sat still with my baby bump and watched the ants. I journaled. I listened to silence. I discovered new types of plants and flowers. But most importantly, I remembered that peace can be chosen. I left Anaimalai lighter. Not because of what I did, but because of what I didn’t do. In return, I carried home the scent of wild lemongrass, a pocketful of red soil, and a quiet promise: that I would begin this next chapter slowly, and from a place of stillness..Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.Lao Tzu

Anaimalai: Where It Is Wild To Be Still

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