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 The charming outpost called Coonoor has always been the Nilgiri district's best kept secret. In the 19th century Englishmen set up a slew of summer cottages and bestowed upon Coonoor a most restorative character that any Indian hill station could possibly have. They pioneered a grand new way of relaxation, in the blue hills of 'Neilgherries'in Tamil Nadu. Cut to 2004, I am about to see Coonoor after a long spell of 27 years.
Exhilarated by the nip in the wintry air and the chance to rediscover my past, I hardly feel the hairpin bends of the Sigur Ghat to be perilous as we climb to a cool 1,839 meters to Coonoor, an area of just 15.5 square kilometers. While we missed out on the thrilling and breathtakingly scenic Blue Mountain Express (narrow gauge toy train) ride from Mettupalayam, opting for an eight-hour road journey from Bangalore, I was in high spirits. Reaching Coonoor was like a homecoming.
 The chance to reconnoiter the Nilgiri forest area, all of 2,549 square kilometers, is much too appealing. A fantastical 56.2 per cent of the total district area only for nature pursuits-that ought to inspire even the most seasoned animal lover and botanist, I should think. Its no wonder that Countess Canning, the wife of the viceroy of 1858, chose Coonoor specifically for a prolonged spell of sketching and study of botany. In the bargain she earned herself a memorial, called Lady Canning's Seat.
The Old And The New
 On that late balmy afternoon, we sweep past All Saints' Church in Bedford, Coonoor's oldest church. This particular 1854 edifice in Upper Coonoor has always evoked the greatest appreciation in believers and tourists, for its turreted belfry and red Mangalore-tiled roof and weeping cypress trees shadowing a cemetery with the oldest plaque revealing an 1852 burial. We check in next door at the Taj Garden Retreat, a 1990 makeover of erstwhile Hampton Court. The resort provides us blessed reprieve, for on its premises we receive our very first flavour of the famed local hospitality.
The staff we notice has yet not succumbed to the pressures from media raves and the property continues to impart, in old traditional ways, soul therapy - by way of graciously attentive staff. Our stay infuses us with a warm cared-for feeling, giving us reason to believe that Coonoor's tranquility and clime have a big role to play in keeping everyone in a jolly good mood all the time. The British legacy goes only as far as the punctilious English spoken by practically everyone; the rest of what we experience is plain old Indian hospitality.
 Fresh after a wash and comforting stomach fill, we are ready to behold in the gathering sunset, my Coonoor of old. It is much too evolved; the slopes of this meadow-filled town at the head of ravine Halikul has inherited the pains of endemic construction, when once it had been much envied for its sprawling unhindered tea and coffee estates. Mist-veiled Lower Coonoor shrugs off, every now and then, smoke that emanates from large vehicles that regularly lumber up from its bus terminal, while, pristine Upper Coonoor continues to elicit disbelief in tourists jaded with the worn-out charms of Ooty just 19 kilometers away.
If Coonoor's undulating hills seem fraught with a watertight juxtaposition of newer edifices over former open spaces, its clime continues to be life affirming as much as the melodic peals of church bells perforating the fragrance of roses and marigolds. An invigoratingly sharp blue eucalyptus scent tails us wherever wanderlust takes us. After a few morning walks along the dirt track circumnavigating Tiger Hill we drum up courage to befriend the lonely watchman guarding its 20th century cemetery. He in turn brings out the dog-eared visitors' book. It discloses messages of joy and discovery from people from around the world for their dear departed ones...uncles, cousins, grand-parents, all buried here since 1873.
 The slopes around are a stirring deep green from enlacing tea gardens that are resonant with prolific bird activity. Daytim is the best for picnicking, in quiet glens and clearings, though sadly we see little of that happening today. We are cheerfully warned about venturing out there in the dark lest a wild animal show up for evening supper. But, not to worry, tigers are residents of the distant past and locals have perhaps forgotten how
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