The Farm Day Chronicle – A Tryst With Nature!

Thursday, 29th January 2026.

A date etched in our collective memory – not for any grand milestone, but for the sheer joy of being together again. After months of back‑and‑forth, excuses, and calendar clashes, our long‑awaited visit to Nagaraj’s farm finally materialized. Credit goes to Ramdooth, the ever‑patient coordinator, who herded us like schoolboys into alignment.

We were seven in all (Guru, Nagaraj, Prabhakar, Ramdooth, Sridhar, Srinath, and yours truly) – friends bound by high school days, plus one “outsider,” Ramprasad (who had common friends in the group), who quickly proved that friendship doesn’t need a formal entry pass. The rendezvous began at Nagaraj’s city home, where I arrived first, brimming with childlike excitement. I had skipped my morning walk, a rare rebellion, because the day promised something far better than routine discipline. Mrs. Nagaraj, the gracious host, had packed Uppittu, Kesribath, and Coffee in Flasks – fuel for our adventure.

Picking up Ramdooth, the convoy rolled out by 9:15 a.m., with Guru and Srinath picking up stragglers Prabhakar and Sridhar along the way. Pleasantries exchanged, jokes cracked, and soon the two vehicles merged like tributaries flowing towards a common river. The route through Magadi Road, Tavarekere, and Sondekoppa Cross was less a commute and more a prelude, each kilometer tightening the anticipation.

At last, the farm gates opened. Kempanna and his son, Ravi, greeted us with warmth that only farmers possess – earthy, genuine, and unhurried. Nagaraj’s farm of close to two acres stretched before us, a mosaic of areca nut, coconut, mango, jackfruit, fig, avocado, and grapefruit. Leafy greens swayed in the breeze, as if welcoming us to their quiet kingdom. The farmhouse itself stood proudly, with an impressive granite-topped sit-out, a modern retreat with a rustic soul.

Stretching ourselves after more than an hour of journey, we just relaxed, soaking in nature and absorbing the sights of the massive Tippagondana Halli lake that gets fed by Arkavati and Kumudavati Rivers. This lake was the site of a tragedy where two movie actors drowned while filming a movie in 2016. As we unwound, lots of topics were thrown into the ring – anecdotal, jokes, drama in real life, etc. We took a languid stroll through the farm – plucking fruits, admiring the greenery around, feeling a tad envious of Nagaraj (for extending his life span by a couple of years, as he spends at least a week or two in a month here), and chatting with Kempanna and his son.

By then, our stomachs were looking at the zenith of our body, anticipating food, and as we unpacked the food Mrs. Nagaraj had carefully packed that morning, patience was not just a word in our dictionary. Excellent food followed by another torpid walk through the farm, we basked in the shades and sun, absorbing the abundant nature, as if there was no tomorrow. Meanwhile, Kempanna and Ravi were busy making bundles of leafy veggies and plucking a few fruits for us to take back.

It was time for our coffee, and our parched throats and system got a shot to avoid the lethargy of the afternoon and the aftermath of a heavy lunch.

As we packed the stuff Nagaraj had already instructed Kempanna and Ravi, we realized that the day wasn’t just about Nagaraj’s farm. Sridhar and Sumana, his uncle and aunt, had their farm “Prutha” nearby and were our next halt. Just before we hit their farm, we went to the banks of the lake to admire the vast water body and the surroundings.

  

Some views of Tippagondana Halli Lake

Their home was guarded by a pack of loyal dogs – Minchu, the snake sentinel, and Piku, the leopard survivor with a howl that mimics human words. Their farm was a living gallery: Virginia creeper vines draped the façade on the side overlooking a campfire place and a sit-out under the canopy of a huge tamarind tree, rare flora dotted the grounds, and a young resident artist (and also a junior state-level sprinter) had sculpted a Ganapati idol that radiated quiet divinity.

Sridhar, a consulting psychologist with a dry, infectious wit and an avid photographer, insisted on individual portraits and directed us with theatrical seriousness until we surrendered to laughter, knowing the results would be worth it. His wit flowed endlessly, a stream of jokes and anecdotes that stitched the afternoon together. Quite knowledgeable in various subjects, he kept us engaged throughout our visit to his farm. 

Sumana, equally committed to social causes, moved through the day with quiet competence. 

We were awestruck to know that they have been living in this natural habitat for over a decade and a half.

Sridhar with our Group of 8                             Asafoetida (Hing)

   
 Rudraksha Tree                                                               Wild Figs 

Kolkata Paan (Betel Leaves)                            A type of Guava

Petangatuba - a rare fruit from Brazil          Pachha Karpura (Camphor)

  

Shrub of Clove

       

Fresh Farm Pickings

By evening, our bags bulged with farm gifts – wild figs, grapefruit, jackfruit, chiku, ramphal, and leafy greens from amaranth to dill. Our hearts, meanwhile, carried something less tangible but more lasting: the joy of shared time.

We returned to the city by 8:15 p.m., tired yet recharged, stomachs full yet craving the next gathering. The saying, “Having the cake and eating it too,” was apt for us that day, as we had the farm and carried it home too. This is akin to a saying in Kannada, "ಉಂಡು ಹೋದ ಕೊಂಡು ಹೋದ" – "Ate and took it too"!

And as we parted – thanking Sridhar and Sumana and of course Nagaraj and his wife, one promise lingered: summer will bring mangoes, and with them, another chapter in this story of friendship.

Awaiting our next outing at Guru's Farm near Malavalli, in the near future!