My Name is Mrs. Gandhe and I have been doing himalayan treks since 1983. A confident hoarse voice rose from somewhere close. It kinda broke my reverie, my head started turning gradually to my right and my jaw almost suddenly dropped without any warning. I kept looking at that shy, rumpled, old face for a long time. It took me time to come to terms with myself. In a few second, I was overwhelmed with emotions. I shook my head in multitudes of admiration and just went on with the little game Sameer was announcing about.
We were eagerly waiting to start our monsoon excursions and sunday 'Bhimashanker Wild life sanctuary Nature trail' was the activity we kicked them off with. Outings with Foliage Outdoors have always been memorable. We toyed with some ideas on how to spend the sunday, but finally decided not to take any risk experimenting some stupid foolhardy idea. We made a quiet booking with Foliage for this sunday. Although we had visited Bhimashankar only last weekend but that was purely for religious interests. For some strange reason, the prospect of repeating the location in just 8 days did not deter us. We were interested, we were determined and we were right on time where the bus was to depart from.
The first shock came when we witnessed the large crowd. A sea of irritable kids and an ocean of parents who had come to drop them. We were put off by the sight. 'Are we sure we want to do it?', asked Shweta. I was in the similar mood too but said 'Let's go man..!! Would be better than sitting at home and doing nothing on a sunday'. A little relief came when we were made aware that the entire creche of kids is not coming with us to Bhimashanker. They were to be ported to another trek for Rajgarh. We boarded our bus silently. Although there were some kids too but less in number and causing less irritation. And we said to ourselves, 'What if a bit of them, lets not be so cranky about everything. We will have good time'.
The pleasures of the trip were to take a while before coming our way. The first three hours went half asleep, half awake and rest trying to talk to the people on nearby seats. But as any new group usually is, the general dynamics of the people was shy and reserved and that's when we first noticed Mr and Mrs Gandhe (whose names we were to find a little later). That's when one of us made that scathing but muffled comment 'Koi inko bataaye ki hum temple nahi ja rahe hain'. Little did we know that this very comment is gonna embarrass us very soon today. We halted for a half an hour tea break, had our first installment of food amidst humming flies and a not so clean place which would barely pass for a dhaba. Stomachs rested a little, we boarded the bus again to leave behind a few more kilometers. Our second shock of the day was not too far, and not a very unfamiliar one to me. The front left tyre of the bus punctured with a loud hissing voice. Mr driver carefully parked the bus on the sides of a sharp turn. Captain Joshi (Our leader from foliage) announced that we were to walk down the remaining four odd kilometers. Interestingly, nobody frowned or complained. I have noticed people are usually game for such minor hinderances in such groups. All of us took it in our stride and started romping towards Bhimashanker.
The third shock was presented to us by our newly acquired Hunter shoes. A feet-full of shoe bites. What did daddy teach you in childhood, 'Never wear new shoes to an excursion'. Well, lesson re-learnt the hard way. Soon we found ourselves together in a small but a little separated open area where We were asked to gather and introduce ourselves. This introduction, I felt, must have been done much earlier. But never too late. It obviously helps break the ice. I was listening to everybody with a subdued enthusiasm and was loosing interest gradually when Mr and Mrs Gandhe presented us with that fourth shock of the trip. This was the most pleasant one. Among the most inspiring moments I have had in last few months, their words left me speechless for a few moments before I could get on with other activities. Shweta later pinched me to remind the scathing comment we passed in the bus. We had a bunch of embarrassing giggles and shrugged the guilt off. The group interaction was improving after the little funny game and I wanted to know more and more people.
With hungry stomachs and aching feet, we started on our first mini trail. This was more of a 'Shakeru' sighting expedition. Although Langoors made more sounds than Shakerus. I like wild life to the extent of feeling good amidst natural soundings. My love for animals (or rare species of them) has always been limited. But what the heck, learning about something new is never bad and I can't say I was not enjoying. Walking in the fog-drenched air can just never be bad, specially when it is almost silent. Good thing about Foliagers is that at both the occasions, they have been successful in inculcating at least a temporary interest in me about the animals/birds/butterflies/flowers.
So our excursion went on and we spent good time both in quantity and quality walking in the forests. Listening to quiet silence, breathing the foggy air, taking random snaps, walking on wet dried leaves, basking in pure relaxation, collecting peace piecemeal, well aren't these the things we came here in first place? The purpose had started to solve itself and we had a faint smile on our faces.
Soon, it was the luncheon call and off we went to the open air dining room. Only common thing between the weekday lunches and this weekend lunch was the queue to the food. Garma-garam Pooris, an inviting bowl of Potato bhaji, a not so inviting Paneer sabji and a mouthful of gulab jamuns were waiting for us. I wonder if there is really some scientific connection between rains and oily food. You get drenched and then if you see anything fried before you, you develop an instant craving for it. Drooling in big quantities, I waited for my turn. My turn came, and I filled my dish with as many pooris as I could collect and came back to my makeshift dining table. A pile of stones on the periphery of a tree. Gulped down all the pooris in seconds and went for the second serving. I was embarrassed at my appetite by the fourth serving but Radhika and Pooja (Foliagers) always welcomed me smiling and helped me with more and more pooris every time. Well, to be honest, at the end, I stopped only out of embarrassment and not because I was done eating. After my semi-strict diet plan of last two months, it was probably the first allowance I gave myself and didn't I devour it?
The next leg of jungle trail was to start now. The forest was denser and shoes were more cruel in biting but there was no stopping. We kept walking and walking, leaving behind some strangely named spots. I never understand why people attach names to these spots. These are place of sheer beauty and calm but attaching a name tag always reduces the importance. It starts looking like we are going there just for the sake of ticking down another point in a checklist. But, nevertheless, the beauty on the offer was endless and the entire environ was painted in a copious calm. We captured it with both hands and filled ourselves with every last byte we could. Sameer asked us to sit there, close our eyes for three minutes and just do nothing. It sounded kiddish and too cliche ridden in the beginning but I couldn't believe I did that. And I cant believe it felt good. By the end of three minutes, I literally craved for more. Jungles do talk. They do have a very strange way of communication. First condition to be able to understand them is to get rid of yourself. Get rid of your ego and submit yourself to their methods. For people like us, its never easy for we have to unlearn more than we have to learn here.
Some more walk down the trails, some more pics, some more amazement offered by the Gandhe couple, some more strange insects and flowers and we were back to the dining room. Another invitation for me to be shameless and I obliged wholeheartedly. 4 cups of tea and three platefulls of kanda-bhaji were not enough to satiate my appetite. I kept eating and eating. It had started to rain in full flow by then. I was probably getting drenched for the first time in this season.
Our bus had been repaired well by then and it was time to call it a day. Boarded the bus and started back to where we came from. The great city of Pune. Finally removed the shoes and my feet paid a big thanks to me. The trip back home was like any other one. Frustration of sunday evening started creeping in, the crazy office faces started doing rounds and we felt as if we were woken up from a day long dream. Sounds of old hindi songs were getting louder from the backside seats. No price for guessing, Antakshris always find their way with utmost authority on the bus trips back home. Again, there has to be some connection here. Same old songs, same old lines and same old sequences and for the same old strange reason all this never feels stale.
Rafta, rafta, chalte chalte, we entered Pune. Say hello to cacophony of honks and nostril-invading pollution and obviously no rains. Anyway, does reality ever spare you? We often find ourselves some lovely but temporary Bhimashankarish hide outs and call ourselves lucky but the monster of reality smiles only harder in its sullenness. It lets out a loud, shrill laughter and licks us back into its world. But after finding multiple such hide outs, I have started believing in myself. The struggle here on is probably to make this temporary, permanent. No, I do not mean erecting a house in Bhimashanker. I mean listening to the call of self and not forcing it to be licked by the monster again. Mr and Mrs Gandhe had listened to it and I can't wait to be in their shoes when I reach their age. Amen..!!
