As the bus moves northeast from Madurai to Karaikudi, the landscape begins its subtle transformation, revealing long stretches of dry, cracked agricultural land patiently awaiting the monsoon. Acres of early-stage plantations of crops like cashew and mango declare a new future for the land, and interspersed patches of bushy forests evoke the feeling of slipping into a forgotten realm.
Inside the bus, a different scene unfolds as local travellers step in and out at every stop. Some are well-dressed, as if on their way to attend ceremonies or parties. Some are flower vendors; their bags of jasmine buds almost completely occupy the luggage space over the seats, and several smaller bags hang tied to a steel bar over the front window. A sweet scent of jasmine lingers in the air, though it is often overshadowed by the smell of diesel and the earthy aroma of grass carried from outside. Soft, uninterrupted Tamil movie songs form a rhythmic drone that might serve as a lullaby for some, but the loud discussions from passengers in the back and the conductor’s passing comments ensure that no short nap is truly possible. Every so often, the distant glint of limestone quarries flashes, marked as they are by neatly arranged large, rectangular blocks in shades of white and grey.
The two-hour journey felt like a half-day odyssey, with my eyelids continuously battling the warm wind streaming through the bus window in the heat of July. Shortly after reaching Karaikudi, my preconceived notions of Chettinad as a forgotten, remote place began to dissolve, since it is in reality an active heritage village experiencing the ripple of discovery. Auto and taxi fares rival those in India’s busiest metros, suggesting a market primarily catering to visitors. Finding a decent budget hotel proved challenging, as heritage tourism in this region appears largely reserved for those with substantial means.