Bangalore: Away from the terror, away from the bombs and an entire universe away from the madding crowd, lies Coorg.

I headed home for a restful holiday to a place where a major town is a euphemism for a straggle of tumbledown one-storey hacks. Where, forget the internet revolution, the phones don't have signals half the time. And more often than not, the electricity has gone off again, because a tree has fallen over the lines.

Except this time, when I finally got into the place, all I could see was a sea of cars honking away to glory. The city slickers had arrived for the weekend.

The thump thump of high-end woofers underscored the blaring Bollywood hits. The chips packets were being thrown with abandon out of the open windows. And loud shouting and screaming from within heralded the presence of yet another group of C++ crazed animals.

Every second home has been converted into a home stay. In the heart of town, little concrete bunkers are snapped up faster than (silicon) chips. As guys who live in concrete structures the entire week long, come here to 'unwind' namely to eat chilli pork, drink too much rum, and make the mandatory trip to Abbi Falls, where they cavort and screech and generally behave like software geeks normally do when confronted with something that isn't plugged in even as they litter the entire place with remnants of the plastic age.

Those few who do make the effort to make it to an actual plantation stay or to one of the upscale resorts that seem to be mushrooming all over, get to actually feel the chill in the crisp air and sleep a night's sleep undisturbed by lumbering trucks, and the hammering of a construction project.

As the influx of tourists bamboozle in, there is an even more unsettling trend on the side. As wealthy, inconsiderate city businessmen drop by, snap up land, cut down trees and build monstrosities as homes or holiday resorts. Each time I come back, I notice one more swathe of forestland has given way to a bleeding raw hillside.

A district long ignored and long undeveloped, Coorg gets all set to follow the Ooty/Kodai way.  The time shares and the touts are making their appearance. As the long ignored coffee planters can only stare helplessly, never matching the weight of the moneybags from Bangalore.

I'm jerked out of the reverie by a blood-screaming yelp. The C++ cats in the car in front have spotted their first alcohol shop in Coorg. As they charge with single intent towards the rum, there's only one thing I can say to them.

Treat this place well. Or your kids will never have a chance to come here and behave as badly as you did.