Misadventure at 3600 feet

3600 feet. Dead night. Incessant rains and gales. A fort with a 2000 year old history. A perfect setting for a nice round of trekking. And so the four of us- me, LED, Jat and Manish (from IIT Mumbai) set out for trekking at the Lohagad Fort.
We reached Malavali station around 8 30 at night. It had started raining by then. The rain seeped through the leaks in the roof of the station making us all wet. I started dreading the cold. Man, we had to bear it for the rest of the night.
We met a lone villager to whom we enquired of the directions and some place where we could stuff ourselves and buy a torch. He said we could trek alright but did not sound very enthusiastic to get involved in the ordeal when we asked him to accompany us. Rather, he found it amusing that we had to do it at this hour.
We equipped ourselves with two torches and backup batteries at a nearby shop. Some bread, cakes with jam and butter along with some water to last us the journey. And a pack of cigarettes to keep us warm. We didn't lose much time and set out for the trekking.
A half an hour of walking took us to Bhaje village which was the last stopover before the climb. We each had a cup of hot "cha" and continued.
There was no source of light now, except for the torches that we had and the fireflies! They made a pretty sight, especially at a bush where a million of them had gathered to form a sky on earth, blinking and shining in the dark. We could see the silhouette of a waterfall in the backdrop, but we had to be content in admiring the sounds rather than the sight of it. Beautiful. Only if we knew what was in store for us later in the day. Night, rather.
The climb started getting steeper and soon, LED was out of breath. We stopped for a moment to finish our natural commitments. LED decided to do away with his Tees and was in his banyan now. I decided to fend myself from the rain and cold with Jat's windcheater. We continued.
The road had become terribly muddy by now. Our shoes weighed a ton as the mud got stuck in the soles. We slipped but dragged on. Meanwhile, the rain became heavier and the gales got wilder. An intimidating silhouette of the fort atop the hill loomed large now. At the back of my mind, I was thinking of a battle - a battle between humans and nature and I was sure of winning.
We were tantalizingly near the peak but a way to the top still eluded us. The roads became almost parallel to the ground now. We decided to circle the peak and find out a way to the top.
We would break into a song once in a while as we plodded across the puddles and sometimes ankle-deep mud. Speaking of which, there are two types of singers who amuse me. One, those with mesmerizing voice and talent. And two, those who make me laugh. Jat belonged to the latter and he indeed proved pretty amusing, especially when he broke into "woh lamhe".
We had circled the fort by 180 degrees and still unable to find a route/ passage to the top. The road had stopped climbing and we had started searching for alternate, hidden routes.
Then we saw the pathway of a dried stream. We reverse engineered and concluded that it should lead us to the top of the hill. We followed the path with a new zeal and fervor. We climbed on, almost oblivious of cacti and branches that blocked our way. Then, a clearing. There must be another path where the stream continues. And we found one. We climbed on. Another clearing. Tsskk tskkk. We are not so lucky this time. We decided to have our grub there.
We had some bread and cakes and rested for some 15 minutes. It was 11 by now. And the moon shone on us. What a lovely sight it was - the moon amidst the dark clouds. But it was not to last long and we decided it was time to walk on.
We had circled the fort by a full 360 degrees by now. We stopped on the way for a couple of times searching for a passage to the top, but failed. Then, jat spotted a way.
Before we realized what was happening, he had made a vertical climb of a few meters and was asking us to follow him. I decided to follow him. I took the torch in my mouth and started climbing.
"aaram se", jat tells me.
Not a place for aaram, what with one leg on a hanging root of a tree, another leg on a protruding stone covered with mud, one hand on a rock and another hanging on to some grass, and a torch in my mouth! As I looked down, I saw LED in his banyan with a wet bed-sheet wrapped around him. Not a pretty sight, I say