This article originally appeared in the Metro Plus edition of the Hindu
There’s a nip in the air as the jeep winds its way up the hill. A herd of Sambar stands in the middle of the road. Our driver brings the jeep to a halt. The largest of the deer stares hard at us.
It almost seems as if he’s debating whether to let us pass. It’s an uncanny feeling as we lock gazes. Without warning, he turns his head and leads his companions into a thicket of bushes. As the driver sets our jeep in motion, I realise that my toes are tingling from the encounter.
I am at Biligiri Rangaswamy (BR) Hills with my family. The two-hour drive from Mysore saw us climb almost 3,000 feet above sea level. The bustle of the city is a distant memory. It’s a silent world but for the occasional rustle in the dense underbrush of the deciduous forests that surround us.
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