The Plan
We leave Pune around
The Execution
We leave Pune at
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.
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment