Bhoothathankettu Dam: A weekend of surprises, stone paths and paneer politics

When our office suddenly rescheduled the Bakrid holiday from June 6 to 7, I sensed an opening for a quick weekend getaway. I called my ever-resourceful colleague and friend, N. Jayachandran, for a fresh idea. He did not disappoint, and suggested a resort.

 

He had not been there himself. But that didn't matter. I hunted down the number, called, and within a minute, the manager was on the line. The rate? A slightly steep ₹13,000. I voiced my concern directly—off-season pricing should come with some flexibility. He agreed and dropped it to ₹10,000. Done deal.

 

What sealed it was my long-pending desire to see the Bhoothathankettu Dam in full monsoon splendour.

 

Ditching anything remotely fashionable (this was a farm stay, not a photoshoot), we set off from Kochi. The route via Padippara and Vettampara–Mekkappala Road was uncharted territory for me. As we neared Muvattupuzha, Google Maps cheekily diverted us into a narrow lane. I resisted and stayed loyal to the familiar highway.

 

Once in Muvattupuzha, however, the map had other ideas - another narrow left with 25.1km to go. Getting lost in the most familiar route added a sense of mischief to the drive. My wife, however, wasn’t as amused. She looked tense, possibly questioning my navigation over Google’s.

 

The road narrowed, but also turned scenic. As we inched closer to our destination, locals peeked at our vehicle with surprise. This caught my attention. Over the years, I have learnt to read expressions—residents near big resorts usually wear that cold, resigned look. But here? Kids waved, curious and cheerful. Something felt refreshingly different. Finally, a modest board with an arrow appeared—a first. By now, we were deep into rock country. Quarries lined the sides like prehistoric pits. For a second, I thought we had reached the banks of the dam. But no, it was still 4km away. Then came the entrance—lush, welcoming. A friendly, robust Nepali security guard greeted us with gusto. Our bags were swiftly unloaded, and we were taken to the reception where the manager waited.

 

Our room was tastefully done, spacious, with full glass windows framed by very long curtains that left me wondering who climbs up to clean them. A vertical ladder led to a tiny balcony with a bed—perhaps for yoga or moon-gazing. I silently thanked the gods our daughter wasn't tiny anymore. That ladder would have given us parenting nightmares.

 

Outside, the view was average - just rambutan trees. But what thrilled us was the restaurant right next door. Never before had food been so conveniently placed!

 

We freshened up and walked in for dinner. That’s when the party began. Some families brought with them music systems and enough energy to power a political rally. Kids ran around, parents shouted over each other, and in the middle of it, a stubborn boy demanded more paneer than they had ordered. The waiter, caught in culinary warfare, explained the cook was overwhelmed. The family head tried pacifying the boy, but the scene was pure desi drama. Meanwhile, two couples, clearly there for a romantic candlelight dinner, sat like vegetables in a pressure cooker. My wife, once one of that tribe, has since evolved—thanks to years of my "go with the flow" mantra. We grinned, watching the chaos like a Netflix episode.

 

As night fell, sleep didn’t come easy. The brand-new air conditioner groaned against the A-frame structure. Cooling 500 square feet topped by a roof as tall as two giraffes? Not easy.

 

The next morning, we headed to Bhoothathankettu Dam—just 5.5km away. It was glorious. Monsoon mist hovered above the water, the landscape wore a dreamy veil, and only a few visitors were around. Small shacks near the dam sold every kind of pickle imaginable. It was simple, local, and lovely.

 

Bhoothathankettu Dam is a scenic and lesser-known getaway surrounded by dense forests. Legend has it that demons once tried to build a dam here to flood nearby temples, but were scared away by Lord Shiva’s clever trickery. Hence the name, which literally translates to "ghost-built dam". Today, it is a peaceful spot perfect for boating, riverside walks, and picnics. A well-maintained walkway offers beautiful views of the Periyar River, especially during the monsoon, when the landscape turns lush and dramatic.

 

On our return, we saw the distance to Kochi—64km. Google rerouted us via Muvattupuzha again. That’s when we decided to drop in at the now-buzzing Chris Bottle Crafters. It was mind-blowing. "You can spend hours and still not decide what to buy. Decor from China, Thailand, Vietnam... driftwood sculptures, indoor plants, massive garden statues; it’s a decorator’s heaven." We walked in casually and came out dazed. Ideal for hotels and villas, but there’s something for everyone. My wife was already mentally redecorating our home.

 

As we passed Maradu, we saw the rush at Nucleus Mall and Forum Mall. That’s when it hit us – we had forgotten our weekly grocery run. Back to real life.

 

The writer is picture editor, Malayala Manorama. 

Tourism