Daughter of Coorg

Call me CBH. I am a daughter of Coorg, but not Aishwarya Rai. From these majestic, misty mountains I began a journey filled with adventure and suspense. Before I share my travel tale, let me tell a little about myself.

I was born in a sprawling plantation in Coorg, the jewel of the Western Ghats, which had reminded a British writer of the rugged mountains, green valleys, and stunning scenery of Scotland.

(Shot from Pollibetta House, Tata Coffee Estate, Coorg)

When the season for coffee blossom arrives, the estate is a riot of cute white aromatic flowers looking like tiny jasmines; each coffee bush laden with thirty to forty thousand flowers - pretty and fetching like a maiden who has decorated her hair before a visit to the weekly haat.

(Image Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Nature creates amazing partnerships to weave its magic and create wonderful fruits of which the green and red coffee berry is one. Coffee blossom is pretty but needs honeybees for pollination and fruiting.

Plants have evolved several methods including stimulus such as strong odour, and rewards such as pollen grains and nectar, etc. Nectar is one of the most prominent substances secreted by flowers to attract bees and other insect pollinators. It largely consists of a sugar-rich fluid produced by plants in typical nectar glands known as nectarines.

The coffee estate buys Queen Bees and places the bee-hive boxes across the plantation. The pheromones of the Queen summon the male drones and the worker bees who arrive in swarms, and begin their labour of love by collecting tiny droplets of nectar from each coffee blossom. The flowers make berries, and the bees gather coffee blossom honey.

A workers’ co-operative society collects, processes, and packages the coffee-blossom honey. After the coffee blossom season, the bees get busy gathering wild flower honey from the vast forest area.

That is how I, Coffee Blossom Honey (CBH) was born.

After a holiday in a coffee estate in Coorg, a visitor’s spouse bought coffee, tea, spices, and me – CBH -  neatly sealed in a glass jar of 500 grams; and put these last-minute purchases in the cabin baggage.

At Bengaluru airport, the CISF personnel at the security check took me out and declared, ‘This item is not permitted in the cabin. More than 100 ml. Sorry, you will have to discard it.’

I wished to protest: I am no item girl. Alas, my lips were sealed.

‘But it’s only honey, not any dangerous item. Look, it’s sealed, too,’ spouse pleaded.

The lady asked, ‘Where are you going?’

‘To Bhopal via Ahmedabad.’

‘Ok, I’ll make an exception. Next time, don’t travel with any liquid jar or bottle of more than 100ml. Also, make sure NOT to open it before reaching home.’ Spouse assured the personnel of full compliance.

I boarded the Bengaluru-Ahmedabad flight and travelled in style in the passenger cabin. Flying this high on a man-made machine was a novel experience, though I had much flying experience with several thousand flying miles behind me.

Do you know: to make 500 grams of honey, a bee flies nearly one lakh miles - about four times the circumference of the earth - and collects nectar from 22.15 lakh flowers?

At Ahmedabad, I wasn’t as lucky. The CISF constable was stern and inflexible. This item cannot go inside the cabin, he said.

I am no item, I wished to scream. Doesn’t this chap know that I am amrit, one of the five amrits that make panchamrita, an offering fit for the gods? Show some respect to me, Daughter of Nature, a gift to mankind!

I also wished to tell the guy:

Age could not wither her and her charm enamoured Julius Caesar and Mark Anthony; but guess what was Cleopatra’s secret cosmetic for that glowing, flawless, youthful skin? Honey, the ancient and trusted tonic that draws and retains moisture to keep the skin smooth, supple, and shining. But I was unsure if he would appreciate a reference to Shakespeare, and Egyptian and Roman history.

My journey rudely disrupted at Ahmedabad, I couldn’t make it to Bhopal, and was filled with trepidation about my future. Was I born in the majestic mountains to be dumped in a bin at Ahmedabad airport?

Relax, there was a happy ending. I never went to the disposal bin, but delighted the taste buds of a honey-lover!

See, I am the Darling Daughter of Coorg, no less sweet and irresistible than Aishwarya!

***