Taking off from the 40 degree summer heat of Delhi to touch down in Bengaluru was a respite. To go from Bengaluru to Kodagu (formerly Coorg) and stay at the Blyton Bungalow amidst the Poomaale Estate was added rejuvenation. My weary soul, accompanied by traveller's fatigue, took a turn during the trip. Munaf, a humble man from Mysuru, kept me company as he told me all about "Sholay" with great delight when we crossed through Ramanagara, the town made famous as the movie's shooting location.
Once in Coorg, via Nagarhole, we reached a village within which was nestled the Poomaale property. The paths made in the hills didn’t seem to go anywhere. And thus I saw the charm of Blyton Bungalow, an eco-haven tucked away in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, ensconced in a green cover.
The Blyton Bungalow, which otherwise might seem to have a haunted colonial past, was none of that.
When the present owners arrived at the bungalow, despite its disrepair and disregard, it appeared to be something right out an Enid Blyton novel; and thus, the name, explains Aranya Bagchi, the caretaker and trained ecologist at the Poomaale property.
At first glance, Blyton Bungalow looks like one of those affairs where folks from metropolitan cities arrive, and begin to flirt with the idea of tearing themselves apart from the maddening city chaos to settle amid greenery for selfish gains. Rid of any of the metropolitan toxicities, the identity of the place is constituted by bird calls, moss, brooks and butterflies.
Bagchi, the hospitality manager at Poomaale and the resident naturalist, welcomed me at the porch. Leaving the umbrellas and mud-stained shoes at the door, once inside, we were joined by the site naturalist, Sharan. Both gave me a short walkthrough of the place and then sat me down to brief me about the house rules over homegrown coffee.
No stepping out after 6:30 in the evening; breakfast, lunch and dinner at so and so times; beware of the leeches; if you spot animals, do not panic; no smoking; and so on...the rules went on till only the last dregs of coffee were left in our cups.
It was clear the place was well-maintained and thriving. Inquisitive, I asked Bagchi, "how do you maintain the ecological balance and prevent habitat degradation on the property?”
He explained, “When it comes to soil health, we try not to disturb the soil layer at all—instead, we retain, enhance, and enrich it using permaculture principles. Water conservation is also taken very seriously; we do watershed work, contour mapping, trenching, and swale making to hold water and prevent erosion. The goal is to slow the water down so it can percolate, filter, and stay longer in the soil rather than quickly running off. We’ve also created a large collection pond called Paliyakere, where water gathers after seeping through the land, and any excess is directed out through an overflow system.”
Poomaale isn’t a resort, and it doesn’t pretend to be. It’s a living collective born from a group of individuals seeking an ecologically balanced, community-driven lifestyle.
Here, food forests replace ornamental gardens. Farming is natural, forests are protected, and the local ecology takes precedence over any aesthetic imposition. The estate is part farm, part forest, and wholly committed to regeneration. The chef employed at the property was also a local from a nearby village who would forage in the in-house forest to prepare food from scratch.
The next morning, Sharan and I were to go on a short hike within the property. The incessant rain made sure any plans for the day were off. I, for one, didn't complain as it gave me the perfect excuse to tuck myself in bed, reading away to the melodious rain.
Once the rain settled, it was time to explore. The addictive, homegrown coffee gave me the caffeine dose I needed. And, just like that, Sharan and I were out and about.
Among the many things he told me, I figured that Sharan had a longstanding passion for the natural world. Currently, he has been working at the tiger beetles within the property, and has already sampled about six of them.
I asked Sharan about the unique or endangered species in the area and how they fit into the ecosystem. “The Kottigehara Dancing Frog is a standout,” he said. “It’s endangered and endemic—males dance with their feet during the monsoon. They only thrive in clean, flowing streams, so they’re a great indicator of freshwater health.”
He also mentioned the Malabar Torrent Toad, which helps control forest-floor insects in stream zones. "The rare Myristica Bambootail damselfly," he noted, “is a top aquatic predator and signals pristine wetland habitats.”
He added that the Nilgiri Marten, “India’s only marten,” keeps small animal populations in check. The Indian Pangolin, endangered due to poaching, plays a role in insect control and soil aeration.
“Even the Giant Forest Snail matters,” he said, “breaks down leaf litter, aiding forest nutrient cycles.” The area also supports more than 60 bird species, over 240 butterflies, and a wealth of fungi, odonates and beetles.
Back in the house and mulling over breakfast—with my trusted coffee, of course—it occurred to me that there are no fences here; animals pass through as they please. Civets, wild boars, and even leopards make an occasional appearance. Residents and guests are encouraged to cohabit mindfully.
I asked Bagchi, “Have you noticed any significant changes in biodiversity, water quality, or soil health over the years?"
He replied, “Half our estate—around 60 acres—is a designated wildlife buffer zone. It’s completely untouched: no construction, no farming, no residences.” He continued, rather reassuringly, “We’ve seen no decline in biodiversity. In fact, our vision is to enhance and enrich it.”
However, he acknowledged that short-term disturbances do occur. “With construction happening—vehicles, labour, noise—some species like frogs or nesting birds may temporarily avoid those areas. But we believe the ecosystem will bounce back. Big picture: biodiversity remains stable.”
Having downed many cups of coffee, I finally asked Bagchi, “So, what’s the story with the coffee here?”
He chuckled, “We grow Robusta at Poomaale—it’s typically lower elevation coffee, but ours is special.” Their beans have scored above 85 on the Q grader scale, which is rare for Robusta, making the brew qualify as a specialty coffee. “That puts our Robusta in a league of its own,” he said.
Blyton Bungalow experiments with a variety of processing methods—natural, anoxic fermentation, thermal shock, frozen cherry, koji berry—to take the coffee from cherry to bean. “We also host brewing sessions for guests,” he added, explaining that they offer both origin sampling (different beans, same method) and brew comparison (same bean, different methods) to showcase the full range of their coffee’s flavour profile.
My days at Blyton Bungalow were quiet in the most restorative way. Morning walks were punctuated by the calls of laughing thrushes and the occasional crack of a branch (it will always remain a mystery if it was a macaque, a civet, or something even wilder!)
On one particular day, I spent the day at the portico on a comfortable chair reading as the pitter-patter of rain—sometimes torrential, sometimes drizzling—made for the perfect ASMR sound. Afternoons were for streamside hiking, tree or bird spotting, or getting a hang of the property's layout. Dinners were slow and conversational, followed by private time and peace.
During one of these dinners, Sharan showed something that I could have witnessed had I visited just a half a month earlier: a picture of glowing fireflies, emitting a light so bright that one could study under its luminescence and get through a semester in flying colours!
Could I have missed the best time to visit Poomaale, I asked Sharan out loud. He smiled, “Every season brings its own magic.” Sharan explains that in January, lakhs of Common Albatross butterflies migrate through the estate, turning the air into a fluttering sea of white. By April and May, the forests glow at night with millions of fireflies in a stunning bioluminescent show. From August to October, the monsoon unleashes a burst of fungi, drawing out rare slugs and snails. And once every few years, between September and October, the Mettukurinji blooms—blanketing the shola grasslands in a rare, surreal purple hue.
This is not the kind of place you check into for room service or spa treatments. Instead, you participate—quietly, humbly—in the rhythms of the land. You wake with the birds; you fall asleep to the buzz of cicadas. You realise, quite quickly, that all your city-bred urgency was meaningless here.
The estate is also a brilliant case study in how mindful living doesn’t have to be a sacrifice. Poomaale proves that comfort and consciousness can co-exist. The Blyton Bungalow, solar-powered and minimal, doesn’t scrimp on warmth or welcome. There are no flashy gadgets here—just good, minimal design, slow food, and an immersion in the natural world that rewires your senses.
One evening, while walking by the brook—deep in the underbelly of the estate—I asked Sharan, “What are the current conservation challenges here, and how can visitors help protect the place?”
He told me, “Heavy monsoons and shifting climate patterns can disrupt operations, and we’re also dealing with scattered invasive plant species, both native and non-native.”
As for what visitors can do, he said, “Stay at Blyton Bungalow—it’s low-impact and eco-conscious. Join our nature walks, help build our species list, and support sustainability by buying our pesticide-free coffee and organic produce.” Most importantly, he added, “Respect wildlife corridors, avoid littering, and keep mobile noise low.”
Perhaps the most disarming part of the experience was the thought it left me with: what if I didn’t have to return to the city? What if life could be lived this way—quiet, deliberate, and in sync with the land?
Beforest’s Poomaale is many things: a conservation initiative, an agricultural experiment, a residential collective. But above all, it is an invitation to slow down, to pay attention, and to imagine a different way of being. I left with dirt on my shoes, calm in my breath, and a small, growing ache to return.
Tariff: Starts at INR 10,000 per night.
How to Reach: Mysore Airport is the closest airport, roughly 150 km away. It takes approximately three-and-a-half-hours by road.
Address: Blyton Bungalow, Poomaale Estate, Naladi, Kakkabe, Coorg, Karnataka 571212