AS WE DROVE OUT ONE MIDSUMMER MORNING

As you might realise, the title of the blog is inspired from the 1969 Laurie Lee memoir As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning. But this post and the book don’t resemble each other on any account. To be precise, this could be just another anecdote.  

View from Lenyadri caves

The recently concluded weekend could have been another ordinary day of our lives; had we not instantly decided to travel to a destination, which helped us grow rich with its vibrant memories. At around 9:30 AM, we started for Titwala in our white coloured Zen Estilo (Meter Reading: 50206). The first destination being decided, we deliberately chose to remain clueless as to where, we would be heading after offering our prayers at the temple. But we were in for a stunning surprise. Following a disturbance caused by some over-drunk antisocial elements, the entire area around the temple town remained closed. The shops had downed their shutters, restaurants had shut business, cops were on the vigil and visitors like us were left a bit dissatisfied. Luckily the doors of the main temple were kept open to not let down the expectations of devotees (like us), who throng in over weekends.

Monkeying Around

We were back on the Murbad-Kalyan road, hunger making our taste buds run dry. Dajiba, a midsized restaurant jumped to our rescue with two plates of hot Misal Pav being served alongside two cups of hot tea. Our hunger pangs being taken care of, we chose to explore some traveling options; these included mountains and beaches. We chose to travel straight to Malshej Ghat and if time permitted, a few kms ahead of it to Junnar. Lady luck agreed to travel alongside. The car’s speed didn’t hit an ounce below 100 kms/hour; the only exception being the presence of relentless speed breakers near Murbad bus depot. We were in no mood to negotiate. The first sight of Malshej Ghat’s towering peak gave us an adrenaline rush. Driving through one of the openings of Malshej Ghat, which also serves as a tunnel; we brought our car to a halt near Maharashtra Dhaba at Mhad-Pargaon (Meter Reading: 50317, Time: 13:30 hrs). We treated ourselves to a sumptuous spread of Jowari Bhakri, Aloo Mutter and Baked Papad. At this moment, we were informed of being just 45 minutes away from Lenyadri Caves in Junnar. To the uninitiated, Lenyadri is one of the 8 spots of pilgrimage that offers darshan of Lord Ganesha’s Shakti Peeths in and around Pune (also known as the Ashtavinayaka Yatra).

Lenyadri Caves

Our hearts, now overdosed with excitement, couldn’t resist beating faster. There stood the Lenyadri Caves, at a height of 100 feet (30 m) above the plains. Going by Wikipedia, Lenyadri is the only Ashtavinayaka temple on a mountain and within the precincts of Buddhist caves (Meter Reading: 50343, Time: 14:20 hrs). We decided to park our car in the private parking zone. We were then presented with the challenge of having to climb 350 stairs to reach Lord Ganpati temple inside the caves. At around 14:30 hrs, the sun was at its scorching best. But where there is faith there is always devotion. And where there is Lord Ganesha, we are Blessed Humesha. Since the climb was steep, it was decided between us that one of us would take up the challenge. Endurance had to be put to its ultimate test. Loaded with a bottle of cold water, a camera, a Western hat and eye gears; I started on my own. I exhaled more, inhaled less and drank less water. The idea was to not take any break while climbing. High on devotion helped me to succeed with flying colours. After having reached the entrance, I called back to have conquered the summit. On entering the cave, the exhaustion faded out. The natural form of Lord Ganesha, smeared in vermillion was a sight of sheer bliss. Peering out of the cave weaved a scenic tale, which cannot be narrated through a single write up. 

The Pagoda

After stepping out, the visit to the pagoda in one of the many caves was another delight, which I shall timelessly savour. As I started descending, I was left amused by the sight of monkeys seated by the rock-cut stairs. Expectation of food was quiet evident in their eyes. Since I had nothing to share, I was spared of their wrath, which usually emerges from infighting.

By 15:25 hrs, I had touched base. We then teamed up again to shop for some raisins, which are sold at throwaway prices; in large, small quantities. At sharp 15:30 hrs, we started back for home. Since we were to travel by the same road and through the Malshej Ghat, we stopped by to photograph the surrounds and of course enrich our souls with selfies. After having crossed the tunnel, we came across the ghastly sight of a dead body being pulled out of the valley. We decided to leave the suspense of this story unattended. During a pleasant journey, we were in no mood to carry home bitter memories. At this point, it is worth mentioning the efforts taken by government authorities to beautify the ravines. Since monsoons are expected soon, the edges have been barricaded and seating arrangements facilitated to make visits much more pleasurable. Driving through these places, we made sure to buy wild sweet berries, even though raw mangoes were on sale too; all of them at cheap bargain friendly prices.

The Challenging Staircase

We ended the trip with a quick visit to our neighborhood. During the time, we finally parked the car, the meter read 50467. Till the next time, we embark on another road trip… we wish you Happy Driving, Happy Exploring.

-Virtuous Vociferous

PS: The next time, I write a post related to travel, it will bear a new voice and a new style of writing (absolutely different from what it looks, sounds and reads now). 

Nous Sommes Prêts

Till yesterday we followed an orthodox ritual of traveling. We would wait for months to first think and then travel. Our hopes stuck to the availability of tickets; we never made a choice that contested our fascination about train journeys. Though this fascination was an imposed one, over the years, we ended up gingerly falling in love with it. This love spanned between the geographical limits of Mumbai and Kolkata. Summers after summers, we relied on a solo vacation; a vacation that comprised learning English and Bengali grammar too.

Over a period of time, this fascination took a beating; other destinations started casting their spell. We did try to make an exception. Long back the three letter word ‘Goa’ resounded. A travel agent was approached; the yellow colored cubical type office was tucked somewhere between a barber’s shop and a general store, somewhere near a badly smelling fish market. Somehow the plan didn’t materialize the way, we had wanted it to. In fact we never traveled to Goa. We had saved enough for this trip. Our hearts were left broken by the immense agony of cancellation. There were two ways to vent it out, scream wildly or calm down. We calmed down, purchased a Videocon washing machine with the saved amount and never ever spoke about it. On certain occasions, it seemed like we had taken a pledge to never reveal what happened to our plans of a so called different vacation in Goa.

Years faded, desires matured, faith soared and the feet developed an itch; this itch carried the sensation of tramping across destinations. From trains, we made an upwardly move; this time we chose to fly. This wasn’t a fascination but a better option to travel. A perfect time saver; journeys by flights attracted both; raised eyebrows and swollen egos. Even though Kolkata topped the priority list (yes I mean it; the priority list) of vacations, we discovered other destinations such as Gokarna, Chennai, Puducherry, Shimla, Manali, Chandigarh, Pune, Kolhapur, Dharamshala, Silvassa and of course Goa (we visited on multiple occasions). We didn’t limit ourselves to national boundaries, we traversed partly across the globe, to another Asian destination. This time we found ourselves in Thailand; we went exploring through Pattaya and then Bangkok. We shot photographs with tigers, prayed in Buddhist temples, walked through the nights and enjoyed eyeing Dolphins, Orangutans at their comical best. Even though it was our first international trip, our passports bearing the first international stamp; the experiences were quietly brushed beneath a carpet of hushed anguish. Some complained of not being informed; we wondered if they would have towed along! Some complained of the trip being an ego trip; we regret that the ego they spoke about never showed up. Once again we took another pledge to lock our Bangkok memories with an unbreakable password. The 3500 odd photographs remain copied to one of the four or perhaps five external hard disks that we share between us. 

Throughout the years, we realized that breaking away from an orthodox ritual attracts antipathy from all quarters. The society reacts in strange manners. Ties of blood weaken. Promises of friendship are forgotten; it’s really funny how one international trip ends up being a controversy. Will we not take another international trip ever? Why shouldn’t we? Our passports are not meant to rot between their date of issue and renewal. We will travel of course, we will break a norm again; if not in the near future, definitely maybe immediately.

Having lived for long in memories of bygone years, the mind continues demanding freshness. Social media continues to tell us about the restless journeys, our friends, our family and our extended families embark upon. We used to stare at them, on our computer screens, till one day we decided; break the rules, hit the road, take the first left turn, move a little ahead, then turn to the right and continue going straight; without once, thinking of taking a U Turn.

Therefore to many journeys ahead, we wish to say, “Nous Sommes Prêts”.

-Virtuous Vociferous