Through a dusty bus window, a sudden flush of golden sunlight. Vivid green plantations a glance below, forming a near-perfect amber at its intersection. Winding roads that make you wish you were behind a wheel, and a sky so bright that it looked like it was run through a Snapchat filter; That was enough for my unwoken eyes to know I was in the Kashmir of South India—Munnar.
A land where the number of bars on your network connection is inversely proportional to the ‘90s Mahindras running around, Munnar quickly ruins certain myths (in a good way) about itself.
Firstly, it is still cold! The urban legend of ‘oh, Munnaril ippo valya chood onnum illaanne’ (Oh, it’s not that hot in Munnar anymore) holds true only if your sightseeing starts long after sunrise and ends before sunset. However, at higher altitudes and later times of the clock, you would be punished severely for the lack of layers you’ve put on—something the humidity-accustomed Malayali in me found out the hard way while stepping out for a late-night chaaya.
Moreover, Munnar isn’t just the laid-back, densely constructed town—it extends eastward, even knocking at the borders of Tamil Nadu. Meesapulimala, Kolukkumalai, Vattavada, Marayoor, and Kanthalloor are all part of the new-wave tourist attractions that have popped up recently.
Munnar has now become a blanket term that encompasses all the aforementioned places, and it was the last three of these satellite villages that I—along with my batchmates from TKM College of Engineering, Kollam—visited for a couple of days.
A fact that stood out to me instantly was the lack of any sort of cellular connection throughout. Except for a few tourist attractions and clusters where locals live, LTE, let alone 5G, was extremely hard to come by. For the same reason, it’s advisable to carry wads of cash, as digital payment methods may let you down. However, in a time where tourists are actively looking to disengage from the internet and go ‘off the grid’, Munnar offers you a social media detox as natural as the sweetness in its sugarcane juice. And it’s funny to see how quickly we adjust to it, too; people clamouring to get any drop of internet were comfortably unbothered by the second day.
It would be unfair for me to not include in this article the real Kings of Munnar: its jeeps. Whatever may be the brand, colour, or wheel size, if it moves, can accommodate nine people, and defies physics through its upward movements, it’s called a jeep.
The answer to the age-old question of ‘Who is the most skilful driver of all time?’ isn’t Micheal Schumacher, Ayrton Senna, or Max Verstappen—it’s got to be a jeep driver from Munnar. We could only look on with a mixture of fear and admiration at the display of skill.
Our driver at Kanthalloor was kind (and brave) enough to showcase a couple of ‘stunts’ as well, something that’ll take you to the edge of your seat, quite literally. On both days of our tour, we opted for ‘jeep trekking’, travelling through the bumpy, rally-like roads, frequently stopping at preplanned attractions.
It often felt like the roads had been purposefully modified for the jeep trekking industry there, such was the amount of potholes! It’s safe to assume our spinal cords did not thank us for the trip.
Notice how, in all this incessant rambling, I never mentioned a single specific tourist place? And I never have to. Munnar is a destination that’s not really about the destination; it’s more about the experience, even if that may be a cliched take. To put it in Gen-Z terms, it’s more about its vibe.
For example, while Kanthalloor Waterfalls is a beautiful place to visit, it pales in comparison to the kilometre-long trek we underwent to get there—forming human chains to cross fragile wooden bridges, subtly flirting with danger, avoiding the slippery stones and tree roots, and drinking an uncountable number of lemon sodas to recover from the climb upwards.
Treks like the ones down and up to Kanthalloor Waterfalls define what the modern tourist seeks in Munnar—experiences. Close your eyes, and you may not remember the exact place, or even its name! But you’ll remember the frames you captured with your camera and your eye. You’ll remember the stupid poses you did for clicking the perfect new profile picture.
You’ll remember the orange of the carrots and the red of the strawberries. You’ll remember the silly sunglasses you bargained for and the random flowers you picked along the way, and of course, you’ll remember the scenery. Munnar’s is a shade of green that is only found elsewhere in a crayon packet—a climate that enhances the flavour of any food, a bout of air that makes you want to forget the hustle and settle down in a farmhouse tucked deep inside a tea plantation.
Once visited, Munnar will beckon you again—such is its charm. Its appeal lies not merely in its geographic features, but in the profound way it engages all senses, evokes emotional responses, and creates lasting impressions that visitors carry within themselves long after departure. After all, Munnar is no ordinary tourist place... it’s more than the sum of its parts.
The writer is a second-year B. Tech computer science student at TKM College of Engineering, Kollam in Kerala.