ILL = Is Life Long??
There’s an universal saying “Life is short” and we have read it many a time in many places and never bothered to bother about its intent. There are occasions when, out of hastiness or lack of sense, we incur an action and quote this statement to support its outcome. We haven’t attached much importance or tried to understand or tried to validate the validity of this famous saying. But is it really short?? Have you ever thought about it?? Do you remember every incident through your “short” life that has landed you where you are?? Many blanks will remain unfilled in your short essay of life so far; forget the long comprehension pending to be written. The cosmos is vast and the times its processes consume are long, much longer than comprehendible by mankind. It’s amazing to think about the time a small pebble had consumed to impart that polished feel and it’s amazing to think about the time a big mountain had consumed to reach that height. These are their inherent qualities as it’s inherent to mankind of their own characteristics. Some where we made the mistake of comparing ourselves with a different plane, an incompatible bench mark. When we look at an individual human life, its growth, its accomplishments, its sins, its betrayals, its sacrifices, its happiness, its relations, multiplications and accumulations, from birth to death, its indeed a long journey. Long enough to make “light years” feel worthless, considering the happenings from Point A to Point Z. I just remember what’s my Point A and that Iam on my way towards Z for the past 29 years, but couldn’t remember most bridges which completed my pathway so far. And this only gets intense on reaching “Z” when we look back, which most don’t, and the distance we have walked is too far to shout back or look back, and “A” is out of sight. All we could see or remember are the Y,X, W and sometimes upto V and U but not more than that if you exclude the minutes before death when instinct rolls the time back before your eyes otherwise, an average human doesn’t remember much to claim life’s short. With conflicting questions popping out, I embarked on the longest drive ever with my long time friend in pursuit of Uttar Kannad, a land where nature will make you bow down on feet. I had not crossed the first 100 Kms when the safety board installed by National Highways authority of India glowed under the newly installed Hella Rally “Life is short, speed makes it shorter” as I crossed it at a sensible 110 Kmph and Mr.Gani (B.Ganesh), my long time friend, was wondering how am I goanna take him single handedly to a destination 810 Kms across. How I did, remains to be seen through the writings of this long posting when Mr. Dave would join us, yet another time, for another fabulous edition of fun, frolic, photography, beer and drive. Is life short??
Like my fifth posting on Upper Bhavani, Uttar Kannad too played hide and seek before yielding to my pursuit and manipulations. The western fringe of Karnataka, like the eastern fringe of Kerala, is a heaven resulting from the abundances of mighty Western Ghats and this enticing run culminates in the north western district of Uttar Kannad, a land where dawn and dusks are mesmerizing and the time in between is meaningless. I always wanted to hug her under pouring rain and it was a sense of disappointment when the 2011 south west monsoon came to an end on sep/30, and I was still loitering between my home and office. Work had taken its toll and not to forget the over burn on imagination and enthusiasm, resulting from the July drive to Agumbe under the heaviest rains my memory knows. It took a lot of persuasions to make Mr. Gani and Mr. Dave join this drive and in the course, unintentionally, added yet another beautiful memory to our “short” life. Started on a dull October night from my home in Chennai and Mr. Gani was sitting besides me in a matter of minutes as the city lights made us unaware of the beautiful full moon that was to accompany us through the dark network of national highways. The brand new rally grade Hella head lamps threw a powerful arc ahead and induced a sense of confidence to pierce through the lonely darkness. This kind of highway darkness, though aware to me and filled with uncertainties, nostalgia, accidents, deaths and romance, manages to evoke my lust and fear every time I step into it. I couldn’t remember the number of times I’ve stepped into it nor do I remember, what made me step into it. The night sky wore moon like a jewel as I kept admiring it through the wind screen and trucks were passed by without a hint or a warning flicker. It appeared dangerous to Mr. Gani and addictive to myself, as more Kms were munched in this fashion in a hurried manner to reach the capital of Karnataka. Our usual tea halt wore a deserted look with no vehicles or people around, indicating an early arrival and reinforced our confidence of munching the 810+ Kms within few hours after dawn. Acceleration was strong after this break and time flew by fast as Mr. Dave walked towards us with his familiar silhouette in a couple of hours. Reunions like these, though frequent these days, are supplementing our “Happiness factor” and the meaning of living and I would love to pick Mr. Dave “n” number of times for this one reason notwithstanding anything in between. After this my entire energy and focus was concentrated on rejoining the NH4 before that frustrating sleep began to engulf with a powerful inviting hug. I could drive a 1000 Kms non stop but like any man, I have my own weakness which Iam unable to win over despite the massive recurrence and familiarity. There are few roads on my personal map which I consider “annoying”, for they force sleep over me like a multiple dosage of valium and the “NICE” road is one among them. Those 42 Kms are the biggest challenge to me during any of my west bound drives and this time wasn’t any different as I struggled to shepherd the car. It was only the distant sight of speeding vehicles over NH4 that restored normality, as I joined back the fast lane with that question hanging around still - Is life short??
All my previous encounters with NH4 have ended up with Tumkur after which we would turn left to join the mesmerizing NH206 but, this time around it wasn’t the case and I had that first opportunity. Beyond Tumkur it’s a different story with NH4 losing its “busy” character and distances and time become less important. It’s a lonely indulgence and I very lately remembered I indeed have driven beyond Tumkur, until Hiriyur, where I took that unforgettable left a year back in pursuit of Jog. The Highway was dominated by intercity Volvo’s and massive line-up of trucks but still, NH4 had the space for my dreams. It isn’t as aggressive as NH7 but extremely fast and supportive for long distance jaunts, particularly for that “sometimes in life” drives with your unforgettable friends. We caught up with our favorite tea stop soon, a lonely hang-out with acres of parking space and run by a Muslim owner. Temperature wasn’t as seductive as during the Agumbe drive, but managed to relax the worn out eyes and hands as I ordered a plate of “truck driver’s” snack to quench my hunger. After a cup of hot tea I embarked upon the next challenge of driving the 810-420 = 390 Kms of unknown roads, through unseen towns to a well known, much investigated about and close to the heart village shying away from urban onslaught across the Ghats. After 90 minutes of fast driving we were desperate to see daylight as I was losing coordination between brain, eyes and hands and thankfully, we hit the next major town on circuit when I was about to lose composure. We entered the town of towering rocks, Chitradurga, when the first faint light of Oct/6/2011 hit the roads through a cold, misty dawn as we pulled over into the robust service lane for a short stretch-out. A Paulo road ways Volvo sped past us with such force; our sleeps were torn apart and kicked off the remaining portion of our long drive in pursuit of Sirsi. The next major town on NH4, Davanagere, was disposed without much attention and our prime target was just 72 Kms across on this 1235 Kms long NH connecting Chennai with Mumbai. Haveri is what I was talking about and it was a much smaller town than our imagination had thought about. We were out of cash, fuel and energy and it was decided to refill all of these here, in Haveri, before we entered that notorious 72 Kms long state road which will see us spend a disproportionate amount of time for that kind of distance in absolute loneliness. Bid goodbye to NH4 and entered with much speculation into the country road connecting Haveri with Sirsi and our speculations were right the third time, in Karnataka, as the road just disappeared after few hundred meters. Its just annoying, particularly after a 700+ Kms drive, to drive at 30Kms/hour as your mind is desperate to see the destination and eyes are desperate for that much needed sleep. Helpless, I drove slowly over the broken road looking for photographic opportunities and to my surprise; there were lot (Photos 11,14,23,28 and 38). After the first 32 Kms there came a lonely junction, a left-a straight-a right, and per local instruction we needed to drive straight. Just like I was rewarded a year back during the notorious Hiriyur-Tarikere drive, hope was rekindled when an ultra black stretch of tarmac began to rip through pristine rainforest region and the only let up, for which we were to be blamed, was absence of rains. The last 40 Kms were munched with amazement as “Burqa clad” woman signaled the arrival of Sirsi, a town on the laps of Ghats, when I handed over the keys to Mr. Dave and settled with a can of Draught beer to fortify my observations and creativity over this romantic hide-out. I watched the road sides with awe, studded with unacceptable amount of gorgeous simple woman, as Mr. Dave was following the unregistered Suzuki Swift of our home stay’s owner over Rally grade pathway into the pristine region 8 Kms away from Sirsi. It was a hide-out like never seen (Photo no 5) and the next two days we spent there were etched on our brains like its third portion. Only missing element was the rain......
I was cursing myself hard over the laziness with which August was passed by as Bakula Home stay’s creator was taking us around over his mesmerizing property with a sense of “Visible” pride. He should be, for his home stay has managed to attract a respectable amount of tourists for a vacation away from the urban chaos and not to forget the distances they are traveling from. Moments later we ended up with a pristine stream right in front our cottage and I could visualize how that night was going to end up. My tired eyes refused to look into the implausible ambience and I walked into the fresh and well illuminated cottage complete with a “Tankless water heater” as the welcome tea lost its temperature and taste, with us reluctant to get out of the cozy bed. Time is really meaningless here, that before I could realize, lunch and evening tea were passed by and we were sitting by the stream with the camera settings on high ISO, longer exposure rates and a steady pair of hands. The moon was beautiful, there was extraordinary silence, there was no man made light in the nearest visible distance, it was gorgeous to look up into the sky and as frightening it was, to look sideways. It was an ambience not to be missed and had to be breath through and as we did, I managed these (Photos 2 and 6) to exhibit the exotic aura to our inner sense when the present became a past. Humidity was high on the air and the evening “mood” was spiced up by the prevailing absolute silence-loneliness combination until that distant sound of the two stroke engine disturbed. The food and beer cans we had ordered were being transported from Sirsi into our hide-out and I couldn’t refrain myself from appreciating the courage of that old man, riding alone on the mangled two wheeler through woods bathed in darkness. We now had a good amount of leisure time, after a long time, at our disposal and a good assortment of food and beer to spend and sit with. The LED torch I bought for that tunnel experience during our previous Donigal trek came handy as we ventured out into the woods in search of spotting a serpent but all I could manage was this (Photo no 4) reiterating the commitment and time required to spot one in the wild, let alone getting close to one. The thrill of photographing in the wild, under absolute darkness, was an awesome experience and we spent close to an hour adjusting our cameras to the dark and getting a perfect shot of the web before walking back to our cottage and getting hold of those cold beer cans. After getting accustomed to “Beer meetings” in cozy city bars, the experience we were about to go through was mind blowing as me and Mr. Dave watched at the distant moon with freezing cold beer cans soothing our hands with Gani.B staring into the darkness filled with that erotic sound of crashing water from the nearby forest stream. It was a moment of Zero concern and Zero tension as time flew by rapid with no soul around to question our indulgence or, our intentions. I had never laughed more continuously than that night nor have felt so comfortable so long ever before, before fatigue made us scramble into the protection of our “corner cottage” as I kept wondering what could have caused that bush, in front of our confines, to sway at periodic intervals. Soon I was asleep and the ceiling fan was blowing away the window screens occasionally to let the outer evils have a peep inside. That was one of the most complicated nights I had ever managed to sleep through and also, wake up to see the next day which was pursued by me for more than a year to see few of nature’s best creations set amidst its best locality.
Learning from our experience in Wayanad a year back, we had ordered a rented vehicle to accomplish our goals planned through the preceding months. If Wayanad is tough, Uttar Kannad is punishing and I didn’t want to harass my car after the long 800+ Kms drive. Because of a similar plan we conquered 3 waterfalls in Wayanad in a single day, with the 4 wheel drive Jeep just spewing away anything on the way under pouring rain and blinding fog. This time around we had no rains but, the just ended SW monsoon had wrecked havoc over the inherently tough roads of UK and the distances involved were twice as much. I sat with a sense of satisfaction in the utility vehicle, we couldn’t manage a jeep though with UK being less famous than Wayanad among the common traveler, as my beloved Baleno was resting on the carpet of fresh green grass and well cosseted by surrounding woods. Our long rumbling journey begun with a note of enthusiasm and I was controlling my desperation as one of the mightiest waterfalls in the Western Ghats was about to feast my eyes and ears in couple of hours. Magod, sitting like a tiger waiting to pounce amidst the dense woods, just blew me away like no other waterfall the first time I had a look at it on the WWW. Magod, my god, was waiting to shower his blessings as I imitated a sincere devotee sitting with my eyes closed through most of the long arduous drive. Yellapur, a small town at cross roads on the Gooty-Ankola national highway (NH63), is a mesmerizing stop-over after that nausea inducing drive, notwithstanding the excellent road and peace inducing ambience. Rationed time means no excesses and we didn’t think of stopping at this much hyped ecologically sensitive hang-out as we bypassed it and Joined NH 63 for that mind boggling drive into the woods. Few Kms after Yellapur, there’s a well marked left turn and from here it’s close to 20 Kms before that “tiger’s growl” becomes prominent. The drive usually is spine breaking and the woods just compliment to the tough feeling we’ll be driving with. Utter loneliness and painful distances are the two descriptions which perfectly depict travel in Uttar Kannad and the road to Magod was no different. When we finally made it to “Magod”, my perceptions were proven wrong “n” Th time as what I was expecting to see was in complete conflict of what I was about to. I had imagined of a tiger loose on the prowl and about to pounce anytime but, what lay before my eyes were much bigger. It was a tiger indeed, but, in captivity and to get close you’ll have to be one of the toughest to descend down the valley through one of the hostile environment filled with extremely dangerous “organisms” and “surprises”. I was standing a good 100 or so meters above “Magod” and watching with awe the way he was growling and shearing past with raw power through pristine rain forest region. Magod takes shape when river Bedti (Also Bedthi) plunges 650 Ft, in two tiers, into a narrow gorge before proceeding into the confines of the dense evergreen forest and in the second tier, the stream bifurcates to form two channels when the downpour is massive. Unfortunately, we were bit delayed on timing and the second channel was abruptly missing, making him lose that phenomenal aggression. Should we have been standing there, say in July, we could have just been blown way. 2012 SW monsoon is goanna be a busy season and we retreated back to the base with some good pictures lacking that traditional “eye moistening” ambience of Malnad region. How powerful SW monsoon is then?? You could alternatively trek down to the base of Magod should you have the courage, fitness, vision, knowledge and, a good plan. Hope you would be received then, there, by Mr. God. Phew what an hour it was, the view just injects into you an addictive loneliness and Magod only increases the lust every second you keep watching at him with respect and fear. With a recurrence confirmed in 2012, we drove back to Yellapur to quench our hunger and, question our conscience over Government’s plan to rip open the pristine region and pave the way for Hubli-Ankola railroad. Is it really necessary to permanently wipe away some of the most exotic species of plants, insects and animals to just help a section of the population to make their already comfortable lives, more comfortable (and bang, that “economic growth”)?? After meeting Magod, I believe there’s Mr. God and hope he wouldn’t let this virgin region down and if he does, I endorse he had left earth long time back. I just pray, thinking, prayer is more powerful, if not God. Subsequent years would answer my questions….
Next on agenda was the “Hidden Giant” the Sathodi falls, a gorgeous “rectangle” shaped falls in the Kallaramarane Ghat section near Yellapur. After cascading it flows into the backwaters of Kodasalli dam, on river Kali, and this adds an additional charm to its beauty and presence. As Sirsi is the base when Unchalli and Benne Hole falls are your target, so is Yellapur when it’s Magod and Sathodi and this fact is to be read under the truth that, UK is a land of waterfalls. The list is so big, the distances are so vast, the roads are so demanding and the beauty of each one so mesmerizing that, we didn’t even manage to crack the “top on the list” ones like, Unchalli (Asia’s number 4, in the world of waterfalls website), Shivaganga, Lalguli, and Dudhsagar. From Yellapur, when on the way to Ankola, you got to take a well marked left to reach Magod and when on the way to Hubli (opposite direction) you again got to take a well marked left to catch up with Sathodi. We were already 3 past noon and ahead of us was a stretch of broken rock debris and occasional good tarmac with no improvement through the entire 25 Kms stretch diverted from NH63. After the first 15 Kms you come across a small settlement called Ganesh Gudi and from here, the forest tract begins with the road losing shape completely. The last 10 Kms from Ganesh Gudi is a tough experience over Rally grade tract and those driving in their saloons and hatchbacks will need to be extremely cautious or, better avoid bringing them in here. When you have crossed 5/10 Kms Kodasalli reservoir comes into view and its mind blowing, particularly during sun sets, when the water is transformed to a sheet of Gold reflecting the weak light from sun. After 90 minutes of spine wrecking drive we made it to the entrance with a sense of head ache and an appetite for a good vomit, as the “spooky path way” (Photos 16 and 33) instilled a sense of endurance. After paying a nominal fee at the entrance we entered the narrow pathway, flanked by a canal on one side and the backwaters on the other, to experience the magic this place holds within. Vegetation was extremely fresh, consequent of the just passed by Monsoon, and it was injecting multiple dosages of “fresh air” inhaled like never before. There were ample opportunities for the camera and ample time for the mind, to think what it wanted and what it was upto. I walked with awe staring at the unique vegetation and the playful monkeys as I watched with certain amount of fear through the unique formations on the dense flora. The walk from the entrance to the base of Sathodi is an experience in itself and you could enjoy and understand the beauty, thrill and uniqueness when you walk alone with no one to talk with. The walk wasn’t a tough one and we reached the base of Sathodi with the least amount of effort and anticipation and when we did, it did instill a significant amount of “awe” with its unique shape and generous outflow. It’s not massive but still, manages to widen that grin on the face and you keep staring at it without a meaning. After a brief photo session we walked back to the entrance and on the way jumped into the only tea stall to sit and stare into the backwaters of Kodasalli dam, which was as nostalgic as visiting your divorced wife’s native with the setting sun adding that powerful feel (Photos 18 and 37). The drive back to Yellapur was hard on the body and mind as well, as I was thinking how Magod and Sathodi would look and feel like bathed by the silver moon hovering above us. Yellapur to Sirsi road under the cover of darkness was like a Honeymoon Suite and the thought of driving with a woman aroused the dehydrated imagination. Reached our cottage, the famous Bakula Home stay in Sirsi, after a good amount of tedious time and I rushed myself under a shower of warm water, pumped non stop by the Tankless heater. That night was more erotic than the previous one - thanks to the cold beer, grilled chick, clear sky with a bigger moon, increased flow in the nearby stream and more than anything else, a completely occupied mind with thoughts from Magod and Sathodi. However, the day next was reserved for one guy who had the potential to blow us away like a ton on TNT and make us forgot of Magod or whatever hell it may be and I never knew about his power until I met him Eyeball to Eyeball and in the process, hurt my conscience like never before.
The last day of our memorable Jaunt had that usual hastiness and unusual fear, which were the obvious outcomes of eagerness and, repeated insistence from our host on keeping away from him when the land was still wet. We couldn’t beat the temptation and bid goodbye to the friendly team before embarking on that “mystic” drive towards “Benne Hole”, the guy I was talking about in the last sentence. Bakula (the home stay which hosted us) had inflicted an ever lasting impact over our hearts and we missed it as “our own homes” when its reflection on the rear view mirror disappeared for the last time. It was notoriously good that, an annual visit couldn’t be ruled out and it remains to be seen if I would visit her on a sustained basis in the years to come. As an added frustration Uttar Kannad was more beautiful @ our departure than it seemed to be @ our arrival, perception maybe, but I consider this way and couldn’t slow down my heart without knowing how fast its goanna beat in a couple of hours. It was a painful exit from Sirsi as we joined the Kumta-Sirsi state highway to redefine the word “eye moistening” and it did moisten our eyes for real. It’s a stretch of “pure” black tarmac with well marked white lines piercing through unbelievably green, dense rainforest region and dotted with occasional “lonely” shops run by mesmerizing Malnad women. There seemed to be universal silence and out of this world loneliness as we sped past to our destination with “on the way” attractions overlooked. You could easily miss Benne Hole as the marking to this rude guy is entirely in “native language” and every tourist’s assumption is it would be in English, so was mine. Parked the car near “one of that” lonely shops manned by a young Malnad woman and embarked on that rustic trek towards Benne Hole, a waterfall which was about to load satisfaction at levels equaled by a slow, robust and painful love making. The sky was clear, sun was prominent and both of these tempted me to throw my slip-on’s into the boot and switch over to my shoes, a mistake which made me go through “physically the second most painful” event of my life after those 17 incisions I underwent on my hands in 2009 for that meaningless bite from an unknown bug. The walk through the seemingly endless woods (Photos 3 and 30) was addictive and I wanted this hike to last for-ever until I felt a rude pain on my calf muscles. Walked further, ignoring, when the irritation reached intolerable levels and when I pulled up the pants to check what the hell it was, it was him, the bloody blood sucker. He attacked at the most unexpected moment and under the most unexpected climatic conditions and then, they were everywhere. The 4 Kms of romantic walk is digested in a matter of seconds as the last 1 Km is excessively loaded with challenges any normal human being would like to avert. There’s a steep descent henceforth and the gravity pulls with “a little extra” enthusiasm as you keep descending at a rapid rate, also driven by the blood suckers. But as always, pain ends in pleasure and the view which greeted us at the edge of the cliff was mind blowing (Photos 1, 22, 29 and 31) and I never wanted to return from that “edge”. Photography here was “bit” dangerous as enthusiasm means the end and extreme caution needs to be exercised over the slippery rocks and the inviting gorge below. By now leeches were all over and I had no option but to discard my pair of shoes and walk bare foot over the entire 5 Kms of boulder filled pathway. Pain was unbearable as the brand new “soft and pure white” vest sacrificed by Mr. Dave reduce the pain below my left foot as the black Jockey vest did below my right. Still, the hike was slowed down to irritatingly unbearable proportions and it was the biggest “demonstration of persistence” I had ever exhibited in my entire life. The sight of “Kumta-Sirsi” state highway was like a bowl of cold water for a panting dog and I ended up sitting on the wooden bench of that lonely shop lightening quick with tender coconuts cooling down the metabolism. Then what lay before us was even more demanding, that punishing 885 Kms drive to Chennai and my only ambition at that point of time was to catch up with NH4 by dusk.
As I drove back through Sirsi the thoughts of “is life short” occupied my thinking and the countryside of Uttar Kannad created a cocktail of unexplainable questions. Just after Sirsi a heavy downpour was ordered by God and the moments still linger in my dreams. Prevailing ambience distracted and delayed my conclusion as I pulled out of the car frequently while driving on the broken 72 Km stretch connecting Sirsi with Haveri on NH4. It was exactly 7:00 PM when we reached Haveri and the safety of NH4 as the massive distance ahead ensured adequate time and space to nurture my doubt and eventually, arrive at a conclusion. The night was cold and I drove with that “now acquainted” concentration as the trucks were passed by with a flicker of head lights and a blink on the eyes at speeds beyond normal levels of control. A well stocked Dhaba quenched our hunger, thirst and fatigue as we, now, continued our long journey with better concentration, confidence and energy levels. Now there was a perfect setting - 600+kms of non stop drive, a cold night, the distant nostalgic moon, semi active mind, occasional sleep requests from the brain, a full tummy and a pair of sleeping friends – to begin my quest. I always have inclined towards the thought “life is long” and not the other way around. If you could think “away from the norm”, a bit hyperactive approach maybe, the results could be eye opening. I don’t remember - if I cried on the first day of my school or with whom I walked into the classroom, what were the subjects in my second grade of schooling, the names of my best friends in grade 4, that beautiful girl in grade 5 who stole away our hearts, the teacher who explained and guided us into our teen, the year we changed to full pants in school, that incredible field trip in Grade 10 when I sat near my favorite girl in the school bus, the day when we met few amongst us the last time in life before parting ways after grade 10 exam results, the principle who handed over the mark sheets, my elder friend Sarin who just disappeared without notification and a reason, the one day trip we had before embarking into the high school challenge, what went wrong with my attitude in high school, that seducing girl in the class next, my bench mate who died of blood cancer @ high school, how I passed through my public exams, what influenced to make me chose Mechanical over computers for the UG program, how Ajay became one of my most unforgettable friends, how I re-established contacts with my schooling friends Ramesh, Jai, Sunand, Jagu, Gokuls and Ranga to continue a lifetime event, how Gani.B and Mr. Dave became my “ close to the heart” companions, Jacqueline and Barghavi, if I returned back the answer papers I borrowed from Mr. Dave during the 4th semester exams, the senior who always stared at us when exchanging the answer sheets, the girl near my home whom Pipa was fond of, how Krishna became one of my best friends, those matchless romantic night drives with Krishna, Pipa, Jeeva and Veera, the outstation trip of the Mech gang which me and Ajay deliberately missed during the third year, those 10 days in lower Himalayas which still remains the happiest days of those “unbeatable” 40+ guys of the Mech gang whom I studied with, that cold -12 freezing night when I walked through a valley with Gani.B and Geo, that fresh snow over which we shot our last group photo, the mesmerizing two day train journey which took us there and the painful two day train journey that brought us back, that black day of our college life when it was all over and we were thrown out to be on our own, the night when I met my friend crying over his father’s lifeless body, those 4 years post college when I tried to reach a goal but in vain, my first friend in the opposite sex, those 6 months when I struggled to get a job, her and the pain she has left me with, what kept me going after this, the day our close friend Venkat ended his life over a petty quarrel with his father and the aftermath, how Visteon corporation dictated my life since 2007, how R.S. Saravanan became my best friend at his 40’s, how Visteon Chennai SPE team became my second home and even my personal extension number at office because, life’s long and there’s still a long way to go. I wouldn’t have remembered any of these in my normal life, in my day to day life, unless; I sat for a week and scratched hard my memory to pull them out from the archives. The life we lead is rude and the path we need to walk is long, then; it only becomes obvious to forget our past or, suffer with its thoughts. The fact that I managed to pull these many events out from my distant past and, the reality that I still have missed countless events only reiterates - Life isn’t short, our memory is!! Tonight could change the perceptions………………………..
Parameters
Route–Chennai-Vellore-Hosur-Bangalore-Tumkur-Chitradurga-Davanagere-Haveri-Sirsi (810 Kms)
Best Time to visit – July to September if you want to get your eyes wet, Oct to December if you still want to enjoy the beauty but without getting your eyes and heart wet.
Specialties – Numerous waterfalls and the paths leading to them, that special loneliness.
What you should do – Forget time.
Don’t Forget – An umbrella, a stay at Bakula and visit all “top on the list” waterfalls.
