Somewhere above two thousand metres.
The Nilgiris — literally, the Blue Mountains — rise where the Western Ghats fold into cloud. Tea gardens ripple down every slope. Ancient shola forests hide in the folds of rock, and mist moves through the valleys like it owns the place.
It's a landscape that rewards patience. Cold mornings, slow light, and air that smells faintly of eucalyptus and rain. We built our café to feel like a small, warm pause inside all of that.