NIGHT TRAIN TO LOHEGAD
The movie finished much sooner than expected. My restless friend, an exchange student from the U.S. of A (let’s call him Andrew) wanted to go somewhere. Did not let me enjoy the movie in peace and wanted to leave even before the credits had started rolling.
We came out of Regal.
Andrew started whining – Let’s go somewhere.
I told him – We would go somewhere.
Where are we going?
Lohegad fort.
A real fort?
I really didn’t think the last question merited an answer
Caught a cab to CST (formerly known as V.T.)
Checked the train timings-Pune Passenger at 11:40 pm.
Checked my watch – 11:38 pm.
Two whole minutes. A lifetime actually.
Bought tickets and dashed into the nearest coach (the train had started moving), straight into a tangle of assorted arms and legs.
We made ourselves comfortable on the floor. Andrew being 6 ft 2 and almost as broad couldn’t help complaining about the space available. And then he asks me what he felt was a pertinent question.
Will I have to walk much?
Another question which did not merit an answer.
After sometime, I got up and stood by the door. There is something extremely liberating about watching the countryside flash by in moonlight. A solitary light or two, a sky awash with stars and the clickety-clack of the iron wheels. All combine to produce a very soothing effect. Perfect for smoothening nerves frayed by the daily wear and tear of living in a metropolis.
Around 4 in the morning, we crossed Lonavala. Woke up Andrew who was liberally sprawled all over, his head resting on the foot of a co-passenger equally dead to the world.
Wish I had a camera to record this for posterity. West finally at the feet of East.
10 minutes later, we reached Malawli, where one has to get down to proceed to Lohegad fort.
Malawli is a station, which lovers of English literature would have termed as quaint. A station without any aspirations. Just content to watch the express trains thundering past.
Hope it remains that way.
What was welcome was that there was a tea –stall and it was open.
If the owner was surprised to see two guys, one wearing quite a loud Hawaiian shirt
(not me) lining up for tea at the crack of dawn, we sure didn’t see any reaction.
I couldn’t resist asking.
How come you are open so early?
Woke up early.
Now, what does one say to that.
After fortifying ourselves with piping hot cups of tea, we again started out.
I told Andrew that while we trek to the fort, just keep an eye for the sunrise.
He gave me quite a disdainful look- I have seen quite a few sunrises.
Half an hour later, he was getting quite poetic.
A brilliant reddish sky interspersed with streaks of blue. A bracing breeze. The kind of breeze that clears the cobwebs and makes your reasoning crystal clear.
And somehow make you feel that you can be a poet.
The path ahead (I am being quite generous using the word ‘path’) was lined with stones and rocks. Andrew’s shiny shoes were taking quite a beating. But somehow he didn’t seem to mind at all.
We started climbing. Pausing every now and then to splash water on our faces from the numerous little waterfalls. The breeze became stronger. The chirping of birds became more pronounced.
Its good to feel alive every now and then.
The railway track has now started looking like a toy track amidst myriad green patches.
Hotel Lohegad came up. A reception committee of two goats and a dog greeted us, followed by the proprietor who happened to be the rest of the staff as well.
Half an hour, we emerged from the shack, sorry, Hotel Lohegad, sated and rejuvenated.
Maharashtra is dotted with more than 170 forts. The tableland atop the Western Ghats was quite suitable for building these forts. All these forts were self-sufficient and had large reserves of fresh water.
One of the major causes of the overwhelming success of the Maratha Empire can be attributed to these forts. Apparently one of the main reasons of Aurangzeb becoming prematurely bald was because of his inability to conquer the forts as and when he wanted. Obviously you won’t find this in any history book.
Lohegad loomed defiantly ahead, surrounded by clouds, as if suspended in mid-air.
We reached the village at the base of the fort.
One of those friendly nondescript villages, whose name one tends to forget immediately after asking.
The final stretch. We started climbing the flat stone steps.
It never deserts me. The feeling of stepping back into time. Half expecting to see soldiers suddenly come rushing out from some secret hiding place, yelling and shouting.
But there is only the wind now.
We reach the top. A brilliant shade of green greets us.
The view from the top, to put it mildly, is stupendous.
One can see for miles around.
On a bright clear day, one can even see Sinhagad fort, located about 25 kms from Pune. Legend goes that messages used to be relayed from one fort to another using mirrors.
We lie down wearily, luxuriating in the warmth of the sun.
A defiant drop of dew still glistened on a blade of grass.
An azure sky right above us.
Life is just perfect.
The movie finished much sooner than expected. My restless friend, an exchange student from the U.S. of A (let’s call him Andrew) wanted to go somewhere. Did not let me enjoy the movie in peace and wanted to leave even before the credits had started rolling.
We came out of Regal.
Andrew started whining – Let’s go somewhere.
I told him – We would go somewhere.
Where are we going?
Lohegad fort.
A real fort?
I really didn’t think the last question merited an answer
Caught a cab to CST (formerly known as V.T.)
Checked the train timings-Pune Passenger at 11:40 pm.
Checked my watch – 11:38 pm.
Two whole minutes. A lifetime actually.
Bought tickets and dashed into the nearest coach (the train had started moving), straight into a tangle of assorted arms and legs.
We made ourselves comfortable on the floor. Andrew being 6 ft 2 and almost as broad couldn’t help complaining about the space available. And then he asks me what he felt was a pertinent question.
Will I have to walk much?
Another question which did not merit an answer.
After sometime, I got up and stood by the door. There is something extremely liberating about watching the countryside flash by in moonlight. A solitary light or two, a sky awash with stars and the clickety-clack of the iron wheels. All combine to produce a very soothing effect. Perfect for smoothening nerves frayed by the daily wear and tear of living in a metropolis.
Around 4 in the morning, we crossed Lonavala. Woke up Andrew who was liberally sprawled all over, his head resting on the foot of a co-passenger equally dead to the world.
Wish I had a camera to record this for posterity. West finally at the feet of East.
10 minutes later, we reached Malawli, where one has to get down to proceed to Lohegad fort.
Malawli is a station, which lovers of English literature would have termed as quaint. A station without any aspirations. Just content to watch the express trains thundering past.
Hope it remains that way.
What was welcome was that there was a tea –stall and it was open.
If the owner was surprised to see two guys, one wearing quite a loud Hawaiian shirt
(not me) lining up for tea at the crack of dawn, we sure didn’t see any reaction.
I couldn’t resist asking.
How come you are open so early?
Woke up early.
Now, what does one say to that.
After fortifying ourselves with piping hot cups of tea, we again started out.
I told Andrew that while we trek to the fort, just keep an eye for the sunrise.
He gave me quite a disdainful look- I have seen quite a few sunrises.
Half an hour later, he was getting quite poetic.
A brilliant reddish sky interspersed with streaks of blue. A bracing breeze. The kind of breeze that clears the cobwebs and makes your reasoning crystal clear.
And somehow make you feel that you can be a poet.
The path ahead (I am being quite generous using the word ‘path’) was lined with stones and rocks. Andrew’s shiny shoes were taking quite a beating. But somehow he didn’t seem to mind at all.
We started climbing. Pausing every now and then to splash water on our faces from the numerous little waterfalls. The breeze became stronger. The chirping of birds became more pronounced.
Its good to feel alive every now and then.
The railway track has now started looking like a toy track amidst myriad green patches.
Hotel Lohegad came up. A reception committee of two goats and a dog greeted us, followed by the proprietor who happened to be the rest of the staff as well.
Half an hour, we emerged from the shack, sorry, Hotel Lohegad, sated and rejuvenated.
Maharashtra is dotted with more than 170 forts. The tableland atop the Western Ghats was quite suitable for building these forts. All these forts were self-sufficient and had large reserves of fresh water.
One of the major causes of the overwhelming success of the Maratha Empire can be attributed to these forts. Apparently one of the main reasons of Aurangzeb becoming prematurely bald was because of his inability to conquer the forts as and when he wanted. Obviously you won’t find this in any history book.
Lohegad loomed defiantly ahead, surrounded by clouds, as if suspended in mid-air.
We reached the village at the base of the fort.
One of those friendly nondescript villages, whose name one tends to forget immediately after asking.
The final stretch. We started climbing the flat stone steps.
It never deserts me. The feeling of stepping back into time. Half expecting to see soldiers suddenly come rushing out from some secret hiding place, yelling and shouting.
But there is only the wind now.
We reach the top. A brilliant shade of green greets us.
The view from the top, to put it mildly, is stupendous.
One can see for miles around.
On a bright clear day, one can even see Sinhagad fort, located about 25 kms from Pune. Legend goes that messages used to be relayed from one fort to another using mirrors.
We lie down wearily, luxuriating in the warmth of the sun.
A defiant drop of dew still glistened on a blade of grass.
An azure sky right above us.
Life is just perfect.