The cool breeze swept over me, lifting my spirits. My stomach lurched and a sense of lightness washed over me, filled with pure bliss. The wind became strong and loud, like a wild force moving from my toes to my head. It swirled around me, rustling my clothes and hair, sending a shiver down my spine. The wind felt invigorating, almost hypnotic. I wanted to stay here, with my arms outstretched, forever, lost in its mesmerizing embrace. I closed my eyes, letting the wind caress my face, and knew, in that moment, that I was exactly where I belonged.
I wander in the mountains and valleys, lost in their splendor. I am one with the wild, a hermit in nature's grandeur.
I can walk for hours, consumed by the beauty of the land, forgetting even the most basic of needs such as food. This was not always the case, for I used to only go on hikes on the weekends. Every Monday, I would set aside an hour to plan my next adventure. I would decide on the best locations for a hike and which hill-forts to tackle, then focus on work for the rest of the week. By Friday, I would finish my work and get ready to wander off into the wilderness once more.
Even now, I am hiking the slopes of the majestic Fort of Harishchandra, a place of great beauty and seclusion nestled within the Sahyadri range. This mountain holds a special place in my heart, as I have returned to it countless times, each time discovering its secrets through a new path - be it the treacherous canal trail, the winding path from Pachanai, or the dense forest route from Khireshwar. Upon arriving, I always hike the Taramati peak before visiting the ancient, carved caves of Kedareshwara, where I wade waist-deep into the water to pray before the sacred Shivlinga. From there, I make my way to Konkan Kada, a breathtaking cliff that once allowed visitors to venture beyond its railings and lie down on the iconic black stone, gazing down at the dizzying heights below. Though I have often yearned to do so, I have never mustered the courage to make the journey during the light of day. The thought of standing atop those black stones, gazing out at the three thousand feet of empty air below, fills me with a mixture of wonder and fear.
The cliff of the Konkan Kada is infamous for its dangers, having claimed many lives over the years. When rappelling was permitted, even the experienced climbers met their end on these cliffs. Long ago, there was a crack at the top of the Konkan Kada, separating a slightly indented portion of the ridge itself. One day, due to heavy rains, the outer part collapsed, and since then, people have reported an increase in accidents. However, it is unlikely that there is a direct connection between these two events, as accidents were happening even before the collapse. Nevertheless, people's superstitions never seem to end. In light of the growing number of accidents, the Department of Archaeology finally took action and built railings for safety. Despite the decrease in accidents due to the new railings, some people still believe that the site is cursed.
I don't need a reason to visit Harishchandra Fort, but this time I'm here alone because of my lazy friends and also to indulge in my love for haunted places. Don't get me wrong, I am not one to believe in those made-up stories. I just enjoy my friends' ghost tales and like to prove them wrong. They always bring fresh stories to the table, and I relish the challenge. It's not their fault, it's just human nature to believe things without questions, but I'll always be skeptical.
This time, the story my friends came up with was about the Kokan Kada itself. I was already familiar with the tale. My friends, along with many naive villagers, believe there's something spooky about the cliff. They claim that anyone who glanced down from it became hypnotized and ultimately fell to their death. I'd already heard it. I tried to argue that if this was true, how did people look down the cliff without falling years ago? But my friends had a ready explanation: they said the sorcery only began after the edges of the cliff crumbled on that fateful rainy day. They even insisted that everyone who crossed the railing fell down. While it's true that those who died from falling off the cliff did cross the railings, how can one fall from the cliff without crossing them? However, many others must have crossed the railings and returned safely. But they didn't buy this. In the end, my arguments were met with their usual trump card: "You have faith in God, but ghosts aren't real to you? How convenient!" So, I finally took matters into my own hands. I told them I would sneak past the railings and see for myself. After all, it's something I've always wanted to do.
As usual, my friends ditched me, which I somewhat expected. Lately, I've been feeling lonely, partly due to my constant wanderings in the wilderness and avoiding people. But I wasn't going to let them get the best of me. I told them I would look over the Konkan Kada, take a selfie, and send it as proof. There's no sorcery, it's all a joke. I think deep down they also know this, they just like to mess with me. I've proven them wrong a few times before. I took them to many haunted places in Pune. We walked straight to the tomb of Alice in Pune University at the stroke of midnight, and that too on the new moon’s night. We also ventured into the cursed house in Sangvi. Those were the days! We didn't care about ghosts or anything. We had plenty of free time back then, but now everyone's busy with their families, except for me who's still wandering.
This morning, I arrived in Khireshwar, and just as I anticipated, a light drizzle was falling. The village is stunningly beautiful, especially in the rain. The people here are so warm and simple, clinging to their superstitions with an endearing innocence. From my vantage point in the village, I was able to gaze upon the magnificent range of Harishchandra hills. Just looking at them filled me with excitement. Today, the view was made even more breathtaking by the intricate designs created by the black and white clouds above, a masterpiece of nature's artistry. The thrill of hiking Harishchandra Fort during the monsoon season is truly an unforgettable experience. Everywhere I looked, I was surrounded by lush greenery and a refreshingly cool atmosphere. It wasn't too cold like winter, nor too hot like summer. It was just right. And to top it off, there was the occasional shower of rain adding to the beauty of this place.
I made my way through the dense green forest behind the village and reached the Tolar Pass. As I approached the towering rock of the pass, the skies suddenly opened up, and heavy rain began to pour down. Just as I had wished! I continued on, crossing the pass and the next seven hills, all drenched in the rain's embrace. I made my way along the continuous mountain paths of ups and downs. At times, it felt as though I was walking in circles, lost in the hypnotic rhythm of my footsteps. But eventually, I arrived at the fort, though I cannot recall exactly how long it took.
As I reached the fort, I eagerly set out on my hike toward the summit of Taramati peak. The rain had finally stopped, and the fog had lifted, revealing a stunning landscape of colorful wildflowers. Every hue imaginable was on display, from pristine whites and soothing blues to passionate pinks and fiery reds, and even vibrant yellows and majestic purple flowers. I reached the summit and spun around the iconic saffron flag like a giddy child, taking in the amazing views surrounding me. I sat there for what felt like hours, completely mesmerized by the vibrant colors and serene atmosphere. Time always seemed to stand still on this summit.
After descending from Taramati peak, I made my way to the historic Harishchandreshwara temple. This magnificent temple, carved from a single massive stone, has stood the test of time for over a thousand years. Its towering arched entrance is adorned with breathtaking sculptures and intricate carvings, leaving onlookers in a state of awe. I stood before the temple, struck by its beauty and the incredible craftsmanship that went into its creation. The stunning sculptures held me captive, and I found myself entranced and deeply mesmerized, as if under a spell. Time seemed to stand still as I gazed in wonder at the intricate details, feeling as though I had all the time in the world, as if the moment would never end.
I headed to the north of the temple where lies the ancient Cave of Kedareshwara. In its center stands a revered Shivling encircled by water. This mystical place was once held up by four pillars, standing strong as supports for the cavern's roof. But now, only one pillar remains, its three companions lost to time, leaving a lone sentinel in this hallowed space. According to legends, this fourth pillar serves as the base of the current Kali Yuga. With each falling pillar, an era comes to an end. The Satya Yuga, Treta Yuga, and Dwapara Yuga have all ended with the falling of the previous three pillars, leaving the Kali Yuga as the final age. People say that when the fourth pillar finally breaks, the Kali Yuga will also come to an end. Even if I have blind faith in God, this seems far-fetched. If the legends were true, these pillars should have been constructed millions of years ago. Yet, in reality, they appear to be no more than a thousand years old. And if they were built during the Satya Yuga, it is said that the people at that time were thirty-three and a half feet tall. Why would they construct mere five-foot toy pillars? These are just naive stories of the gullible. People just make stuff out of thin air. In fact, people love to imagine the end of the world. I think behind this idea is the pure selfishness of humans. Nothing else. Everyone dies sooner or later, but the world doesn't care. It runs without them. So why not let the world die with them? That's why people ponder such end-of-the-world ideas. Anyway, I don’t care. I am also destined to die someday.
With a deep breath, I stepped into the icy, waist-deep water. It was frigid, but I was no stranger to its chill. I've encountered such water many times before. Undeterred, I walked around the Shivlinga, circling it a few times. I stopped at the lone standing pillar of the Kali Yuga and gave it a forceful push. Yet it didn’t budge. What if I tried pushing harder with each rotation? Or come back every day to push? Will the pillar ever fall? Will there ever be an escape? For all! Or is it simply a cycle, from the Satya Yuga to the Kali Yuga and back again?
With eager steps, I set off toward Konkan Kada. The wind howled fiercely, but as I journeyed on, the dull mist began to lift and the clouds thinned, revealing the brilliant blue sky above. My clothes hung dry and crisp in the blowing air. And then, I spotted the railings - snowy white with bands of glowing red radium. As if on cue, the wind died down and I leaned against the railings which stood twenty feet away from the infamous cliff. By then it was evening time, and I gazed upon the horizon as the sun made its final descent. The sky was dotted with wispy white clouds, ablaze with the fiery hues of the setting sun. The sun's warm rays danced across the clouds, painting them in a brilliant spectrum of red, yellow, and orange. The blood-red orb of the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, casting a final, brilliant green glow before its departure. This rare sight filled me with a sense of contentment, as the day came to a peaceful close.
As the twilight embraced me, I cautiously looked around and climbed over the railings. Everything was clear and tranquil. But for no reason, my heart began to race. I was not afraid, for sure. I was not afraid even in Alice Garden where two eyes glowed brightly on the tomb of Alice at the stroke of midnight. Then those eyes made two quick small leaps and we realized that it was just a frog. Here everything is crystal clear in the twilight. I was not afraid even in the creepy haunted house of Sangavi, where some strange sounds echoed in the halls but I was the one who pointed to the black cat responsible for it. There is nothing like that here. I am not afraid, I am just excited. This is no ordinary moment, for I am about to take a glimpse over the Konkan Kada.
I slowly made my way to the edge of the cliff, my heart pounding with anticipation. As I approached the cliff's edge, I remembered the selfie I had promised my friends. I fished my phone out of my pocket, snapped a selfie, and sent it. There are no ghosts, no sorcery, or haunted places! Peeking over the edge of the cliff was a challenge. It was too steep to simply bend forward and look. Who on earth would dare to do that? So, I slowly laid down on the black ledge, inched my head forward, and peered out over the edge. The depth was almost suffocating. I hold my breath as I watched in hypnotic fascination. The beauty was almost too much to bear. No matter how long I stared, I felt I could never be satisfied. Then I sat down. The dark red hue of the sun was still visible in the distance, casting a faint but beautiful glow over the horizon. I stayed there for some time looking at the horizon and gently peering down the cliff. It felt like I could watch this forever, so I stayed there longer. The colors on the horizon gradually faded, leaving a soft, eerie darkness in their wake, and I knew it was time to leave. I stood up for heading back. Everything was dead-drop quiet. There was no sound, not even a breeze, just the emptiness of the beginning of a night. I couldn't resist but took one last look down the cliff. Such a magnificent beauty! My heart overflowed with a deep sense of gratitude for everything. Life had become worthwhile in that one perfect moment. I spread my both hands and took a step.
The cool breeze swept over me, lifting my spirits. My stomach lurched and a sense of lightness washed over me, filled with pure bliss. The wind became strong and loud, like a wild force moving from my toes to my head. It swirled around me, rustling my clothes and hair, sending a shiver down my spine. The wind felt invigorating, almost hypnotic. I wanted to stay here, with my arms outstretched, forever, lost in its mesmerizing embrace. I closed my eyes, letting the wind caress my face, and knew, in that moment, that I was exactly where I belonged.
I wander in the mountains and valleys, lost in their splendor. I am one with the wild, a hermit in nature's grandeur …
-------------------
By Vikram Khaire
16 Feb 2023
(Translated from original Marathi story ‘Abhimanyu’ with the help of Google Translate and ChatGpt)
No comments:
Post a Comment