And I'm ;aughing as ever!!

...and back!

You might want to read To Vizapur before reading this post.

The place is a beauty - very much untouched by civilization (apart from the ruins of the fort itself). The undulations of grass-covered land offer a vision of tiny hillocks waiting to be explored. There are small ponds of fresh water. For the perusal of the army, we concur. The flag was now in our reach and it now looked certainly insignificant and dull, so much as it had looked magnificent and majestic from down below.

And suddenly, my mind is gripped by thoughts amorous. Quiet, away from civilization, heaven above, the entire world below you - just short of becoming one with nature. The king and his queen. Perhaps, in the midst of a full-fledged war? Sighting heaven is one thing, having it all for yourself is another.

Somehow, the place manages to give me a sense of security and fear at the same time. The place is empty but for a score of cows, buffaloes and bulls grazing all over the place. They seem scared of us and run hither and thither on sighting us. One thought bogging our mind is: how the hell did they manage to come over here? Surely, there must be a way up here, and an easy one at that!

We roam around the place a bit but are unable to find a proper way down other than the one where we came from. Finally, Jaat convinces us that that’s the best way to return, which we do.

The night is falling at a fast pace, as we try to cope with it. Anywhere the path clears up a little, we step up our pace. The path which had proved so convenient in the light now suddenly becomes treacherous. Rocks turn up from nowhere and step in our way, slowing us down. We finally reach the place where we had left the village, but it is quite dark by then.

We see a person in the distance. Human number 3. He offers to lead us down to the Bhaje Gaon, as we heave a collective sigh of relief.

He leads us for quite a distance, explaining us why we should come earlier and not tread on this part the land when it’s dark. We could have been glad he couldn’t see our faces then. He suddenly stops in his tracks and asks for the fees of his service. 100 bucks?? We’ll give you 30 or 40. After a tussle of bargaining, he agrees at 50 bucks. Or so it seems at the moment.

He takes us a little further ahead. He tells us the path from there is very obvious and we should find no trouble in finding the way on our own. We thank him profusely and depart. It’s only after a minute’s walk that we realize we have been cheated. He had taken 50 bucks to lead us to ground and we are as distant from the ground as ever, and the guy is gone!

Our ego crumbling on having treated thus, we have to find the path on our own. By now, it’s completely dark. With no moonlight and no torch of our own, we are finding it difficult to see ahead of 5 meters.

We climb down carefully. With light absent and the slope getting steeper, we have to slither down the slope. We first try to find a footing by feeling with our feet, at the same time holding on to grass, or some plant so that we don’t lose grip, and then take the next step. Our arses are dragged along, and of some they get bruised! The parts where we have to cross the waterfalls prove a bit tricky; the rocks being slippery and it being tough to find a foothold.

After a few minutes of climbing down we realize we can’t proceed further as it is too steep. Actually, it is just too dark to fathom the steepness, and we don’t want to take our chances. One bad step and we could be heading straight to the bottom of the hill.

We debate on how proceed from there. Do we try to find a way, or do we go up there to the village, or do we just spend the night somewhere we find a clearing. By now the last option doesn’t seem so extravagant, and we discuss thoroughly the pros and cons of each one of them.

The main things we took into consideration: a. our safety, b. our energy (we were quite tired by now) c. our hunger (we didn’t have any food, apart from the packet of biscuits left). We decide to try find a way for a little more time, as the village is already quite behind us and crashing on the grass, we’ll use as a last option.

We continue our trials for another two times, making the treacherous climb down. But we are led to disappointment as either bush blocks our way or a steep fall cuts our way. Each time we have to climb up again as it is impossible to spend too much time there.

We have now run out of energy, patience – in fact anything that could keep us going. Sardar comes up with the idea: we go to the village, wake someone up, and ask him to lead us to Bhaje Gaon. He sounds extremely determined and says we’ll definitely reach Pune tonight for sure. Thus, with a renewed zeal we start climbing up.

A 5 minute climb later, Jaat gets the idea of the century - one last try. We should now try moving to the right a bit, as we have been moving to the left a lot until now. Who knows, a path will spring out of nowhere, say hello to us and take us on its back safely down there!

We hardly climb down for another 5 minutes when we realize the futility of our attempt. Beaten by exhaustion, hunger and frustration we finally decide to spend the night there.

We find the perfect place for that. It is a small clearing on the slope – around 10m by 10m, and surrounded by bushes. We can see Bhaje at a distance and the expressway at a further distance. The lights from the distant houses, of fireflies and of a lone person walking with a torch all seem to blend together.

We lie down out of sheer exhaustion. It’s 9:30 pm. When does the sun come out here? No later than 5 30, or 6. That makes it no less than 8 hours! We should sleep.

10 minutes later, Sardar speaks up, as if woken up from a long slumber. “Arre, it is only 9 40!”

It’s going to be a long night, I tell myself. Jaat and sardar are engaged in conversation as I keep quiet and let my mind wander.

Jaat and I cover ourselves in a windcheater that sardar had brought. I feel a terrible need to relieve myself, but dread getting out of the windcheater. Overcome by need, I finally get out and do the needful at a distance. I’m already shivering profusely. I can’t stop myself from shivering as I get under the windcheater.

I fold myself up and start taking long breaths. I realize it’s not entirely due to cold I’m shivering. But of what, I’m unable to figure out.

All of a sudden, ISI lets out a scream. An insect had bitten him and he’s scared if it might be some poisonous snake. I’m too tired to be excited and I thought he was making a fuss out of nothing. I just lay with my eyes closed. After sometimes, the excitement dies down and ISI too is back to normal.

I drift off to sleep in patches. But every now and then I’m jerked awake by the biting cold, especially when touched by a whiff of wind. I change my posture in a futile attempt to make myself warmer.

It’s around 4 when we are woken up by a torch flashing all around us. Human number 4. He is searching for his lost buffalo. We somehow convince him to lead us to the bottom of the hill. He agrees and leads us down. But before long, he succumbs to his more serious needs and leaves us to go in search of his buffalo. We are still nowhere; Bhaje is as distant as ever.

We can’t go to sleep now. It is late anyway, and we should be able to witness the sunrise. We do a reality check, reflecting on our adventure. Our clothes bear the mark of all the slithering and slipping around. Our Bai is gonna have a hard time, I observe. Jaat and ISI have received bruises, while I have been fortunately spared of any. We are hungry as hell and make our food plans that we will set to motion once we reach down there.

The first sign of light and we head down. The way clears up in front of us, and it doesn’t seem so challenging now after what we had gone through a half dozen hours before. The moment we see the stair leading to the cave, we almost hear our own sigh of relief echoing.

To Vizapur

The Plan
We leave Pune around 10:00 am in the local train, reach Malawali in an hour, do some peaceful trekking, come back home before it is dark.

The Execution
We leave Pune at 1:30 pm, on bikes. Isi assures us we’ll reach there in half an hour. Half an hour stretches to an hour and another half an hour more, before we reach the place.

We lose no time in parking our bikes and head straight for the stairs (that ISI told us would lead to the fort). The stairs lead to some caves. We start having some serious doubts as to the existence of a path to the fort from here.

We start asking for directions. The guy points in the general direction to a mango tree and offers himself as a guide. “Guide?” we almost laugh. Not for this trip, buddy. We reach the mango tree in no time, but find no path leading from there. Giving a knowing look at each other, we decide to climb!

The climb is steep, but we are sure that in no time, we’ll find a path leading to the fort. We climb up, holding on to grass with our hands, lest we might slip. In patches, we climb up dried up streams of water that fooled us into believing them they were paths used by people. But alas! a real path is nowhere to be found.

A half an hour of climb later, we reach a grassy knoll. We heave a sigh of relief, but only momentarily as we realize we are lost. Isi decides to call up his friend of experience and asks for directions, which was a bit tricky considering we were in the middle of nowhere. His friend tells us to find a village of half a dozen houses and ask directions from there.

We decide to go ahead and find the village. A 10-minute-walk. No village. We find a house with a cow-shed nearby.

“Is this the village?”
“But he said there were around 5-6 houses.”
“No harm. We can ask for directions anyway.”

The resident of the house - an old fellow - points to a general direction towards the fort and offers himself as a guide. “What is this business with guides,” we wonder before heading off towards the fort.

We have almost forgotten about the village when I turn back on a whim and find the village behind us. We let ourselves feel a mixed emotion of mystery and a minor eruption of joy on discovering the place and decide to head straight over there.

The village is surrounded by hedges all around. “A possible sign of wild animals. They might be doing it to protect themselves from animals,” ISI offers his explanation. Jaat and I laugh at the sardar’s words. A slight tug of fear pulls at my guts, but I’m ashamed of admitting it, and remain quiet.

After walking by the arc of the hedges for sometime, a wave of frustration hits us and we decide to go forth on our own. I offer my theory: if we go around the fort, we are bound to come across a path that leads up there. If there’s an entrance to the fort. I could sense the reluctance with which my theory was received, but as we run out of options, the general consensus is to continue the climb.

We find a path, finally. Guarded closely by overgrown plants and bushes, but surely a pre-defined path. But, right or left, where do we head? All of us offer our own theories, none convincing enough. And right is where we head.

From here, the red flag at the corner of the fort looks enticingly close. A whiff of wind blows, and the flag waves, as if teasing us, inviting us. We’ll reach you in no time, honey.

The path leads us to an old tree. We stop for a few photographs - mementoes for having survived this far.

The path had reached a dead end and our only way was to retrace our steps and head to the left, which was what we proceed to do. We find a packet of biscuits (without the biscuits, of course) and our hopes are revived. “Civilization has, indeed, crossed this path before.”

As the path is now well defined, we walk faster, and with more enthusiasm. The undergrowth beside the path requires us to bend for stretches, or use our hands to clear the way. But the climb is not so steep. You could say we are walking, and not climbing.

And suddenly, a firangi jumps out of nowhere and presents himself as Human number 2 of our climb. He had gone to the fort through some other way and was on his way down now. I feel a sense of loss, as if we are in some sort of a race to the top. This guy had already reached there. I hate him for telling us the way and robbing us of the pleasure of discovering everything by ourselves.

We reach the waterfall in no time, as the firangi had told us, and we start climbing it. The rocks are in place and help us in getting our foothold as we climb up steadily. A torn shoe appears in front of us. We are too tired, and thrilled by the proximity to our destination to discuss the matter of its origin.

We finally find the stairs, again as the firangi had told us, and our collective joy knows no bounds. We are welcomed by a statue of Hanumanji, just at the bottom of the staircase. Water falls from the edge of the wall at the top, washes the stairs. The wall adjoining the stair is thick with moss accumulated over the ages.

A butterfly and the wind

I sensed the wind coming from a distance
Steadying, preparing myself
To battle against it
Or was it to welcome it?

She came with the wind,
Taking me by surprise –
Complete, pleasant, jittery.

My wings hurt as I tried to steady myself
My strength ebbed.

Was it an illusion?
My senses cheating on me?
But I saw myself – or a part of me..
I can, still.

I moved to touch her – but my limbs were immovable,
Paralysed.

The flutter of her hair – hurting my eyes
Blurring my senses
The scent of her hair but eluded me
Lost in the wind, perhaps
As my senses sought, desperately

Her voice I could hear
Slow, lazy, dissolved in the wind
I scraped the parts of it, putting them together
It was mine!

I tried to steady myself.
Tried to go back where I was
But I had been blown away!

The wind is long gone.
I still try to steady myself,
Despising myself for having blown that far.
I beckon my strength,
As I lay,
Thinking of the wind,
Of who was riding on it, and
What was taken away from me.