Climbing Hills and Calming Storms: A Yelagiri Story

Sometimes, the best way to reconnect with yourself is to step away from the noise of daily life and immerse yourself in nature’s quiet embrace. I was six months pregnant and the pace of life in the city plus my work was just getting too much. I wanted to travel but not too far away. I asked my husband to look for places where we could quietly escape and he suggested the tranquil hill station of Yelagiri, Tamil Nadu. It is a perfect blend of serenity, adventure, and introspection. Over two days, I found myself discovering more than just the beauty of the landscape—I discovered the joy of slowing down, breathing deeply, and simply being present to massive changes that were happening in my body and were going to happen to my life. Day 1: A Walk Through the Yelagiri Bird ParkOur first day began with a visit to the Yelagiri Bird Park, a place that felt like stepping into another world. The moment I entered the park, the symphony of chirps and calls filled the air, instantly grounding me in the moment. It’s easy to forget how soothing the sound of birdsong can be when you’re wrapped up in the hustle of city life.In the aviaries, colourful parrots and elegant peacocks strutted proudly, while outside, I spotted kingfishers darting across the water. I walked and walked and saw so many different birds and learnt so much about them. There was something meditative about watching these birds—their grace, their effortless freedom and their absolute lack of fear!! Some came right up to us to get food – it was scary and incredible at the same time.As we walked around, small puppies chased around my legs, and I saw some tiny baby goats trying to climb up a bush and munch on some leaves. The park isn’t just for birdwatching; it’s a space for stillness and playfulness, too. Sitting by the small pond, watching the ripples, I felt the calmness and joy seep into me. I had no agenda, no rush. It was just me, nature, and a gentle reminder to breathe and be present..Day 2: Trek to Swamimalai HillsThe next morning, I set out for Swamimalai Hills, not sure what to expect. I’d heard about the trek’s challenges, but I was more drawn to the idea of seeing the world from a higher perspective, both physically and metaphorically. Swamimalai, at 4,338 feet, promises stunning views, but what I didn’t realise was how much it would challenge me in more ways than one.The trek began early to avoid the midday heat. The trail was a mix of shaded paths and open stretches, and each step brought a different feeling. At times, it was exhausting, and I could feel my muscles protesting, but there was something about being surrounded by such raw beauty that made it all worth it. The path wound through tall trees and thick undergrowth, and every so often, I’d stop to listen—to the birds, the wind in the leaves, the sound of my own breath.The higher I climbed, the more the air shifted, cooler and thinner, and with it, my thoughts slowed down. I began to appreciate the quiet. I wasn’t just climbing a hill—I was letting go of distractions, allowing myself the space to be in the moment. It felt like a form of meditation, a chance to shed the unnecessary weight of the world.As I climbed I turned to my husband and said, ‘Thank God no one else is on this trail. I am enjoying the quiet.’ And just as I finished my sentence, I heard footsteps and distant conversation. I was a little disappointed, but I was also tired, so I sat, waiting for them to catch up with us.In about five minutes, we met another couple and the first thing they said was. ‘Oh my god, we are so grateful you are on the trail, we thought we would be all alone. Feeling so happy now.’ I smiled at them and made polite conversation. I also told them I needed some more rest because I was pregnant and they could climb up ahead, we would be 10 steps behind..As they climbed and their voices became less audible, I turned to Vinodh and said, ‘How funny is it, I was hoping no one would be here and she was waiting for someone to be here. One experience, two different perspectives!’ He smiled at me and quietly held my hand, ‘Don’t get too happy with this quiet; I hear the summit is beautiful.’We climbed and climbed and finally reached the summit. I was breathless. Not just from the climb but from the sheer beauty that greeted me. The Swamimalai Temple stood quietly at the top, and I took a moment to sit there, absorbing the 360-degree view of Yelagiri’s lush valleys and distant mountains. The world looked different from up there—clearer, simpler. Everything felt so small, and yet, in that moment, I felt incredibly connected to it all.I went into the temple to offer a flower from a nearby tree, but the sanctum sanctorum was closed. We peered through the keyhole to see a huge reclining Vishnu with Mahalakshmi by his side. We walked around the small but ancient temple only to see some morons had tried to draw the cross on the temple walls to claim the place to be Christian. I was furious and upset. How could people desecrate a holy place with such little thought? And why was no one doing anything about it?!I found an old, ragged cloth and started wiping out the marks, sad and angry at the same time. My sense of quiet and stillness was gone. My mind was in a rage. Vinodh helped and then said, ‘Relax. Let's speak with the villagers about what happened and make things right. For now, clean up the best but don’t lose the stillness you discovered on your way up here.’ A much-needed reminder. I stopped. Took a few breaths and took in the scenery. Man was crazy but the presence of God was everywhere. I just needed to stop being angry to feel it.As I made my way back down, the sense of peace lingered despite the occasional angry thought. The trek wasn’t just about the destination—it was about the quiet moments in between, the sense of stillness I found within myself as I moved through the hills and experienced all that I did.

Climbing Hills and Calming Storms: A Yelagiri Story

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