If
someone asked when the last time you really were happy was, will you be able to
answer without a hesitation? Very few can, immediately, and most of them would
stumble before they can catch the occasion. But if someone asked when the last
time you were upset was, most of us
would get immersed in that beautiful memory which contains the “gap” that never
was bridged as we continued to walk our lives on the other side of the fate.
Incidents which dented us have a stubborn impact than the ones which made us to
be happy, as the recent “joy” is shadowed by that distant distress and that
distant “joy” by a more recent distress. If ever this could be reversed was
high on my mind than anything else, as I kept waiting for my big boss in the
super cold office on a rainy evening in Aug/2016. The first time I got wet
in the west was during the south west monsoon of 2010, as my life was
introduced to a completely new phenomenon which I was trying to experience with
skin and blood for the past couple of years “then”. The journey that started on
a pouring night in Aug/2010 set the base up for my endless expeditions into
this region, the Malnad, the land of rains, gods and ghosts. What seemed to be a just wed wife in 2010
slowly became the love of my life as I cocooned myself with her thoughts and pictures
and spent unreasonable amounts of time to be an integral part of her. I
became too mad maybe, that god recognized and gradually reduced the bounty he
had been offering to this region in the form of “out of the world” rains. When you had really loved someone, you
cannot hate them even due to circumstances. The more you try to hate and forget,
the more you hurt yourself only. I was pushed to the threshold of that
unbearable pain and the only exit was to meet her again, whatever she was now
and how much ever she had changed since I met her first. As the beautiful
theory of “logical life” entertained with past memoirs, the practicality of
life intervened and prompted me to get ready for the departure and the subsequent
long drive. Every stage of life supersedes the preceding one with new events
and new people, as I was beginning to get interested to understand how the next
3 days were going to be for this was the first time ever I had planned a long
road trip with two of my bosses. We had been talking about such a road trip for
the past 4 years or so, and as all good things in life, this one materialized
very quickly after that long delay of 48 months. With the stage set, I was as anxious as I would be when I
introduce my woman to the world beyond my private boundaries. I wanted her to
be at her “inherent” best when I was taking two people, who had asked a lot
about her for the past 4 years, to meet her; but I was also broken for my
instinct knew she wouldn’t be as she was the first time when she threw my life
out of gear and an entire new world opened up before me, only for me. Now I
wanted to depart as soon as possible, and the delay in the arrival of the planned
position of the clock needles only ignited the hot and about to explode
exasperation.
Doing
a road trip with bosses has an advantage, everything happens on time as planned
and I got the call exactly at the said time from Susheyl prompting me to unfold
the blue umbrella and walk towards the white Creta parked at the gate of our
office complex. That evening was busy with office goers rushing back home and I
didn’t bother though, for we would be hitting absolute loneliness in a matter
of few hours as our roadie started right on the middle of a busy week. The
pending activity of picking Khan, thankfully his waiting point was located
right on our intended trajectory towards the Pune bound national highway, was
completed much quicker than anticipated and thereafter it was the regular job
was dodging heavy vehicles through the disturbing darkness of the lonely
highways. Susheyl was at the wheels for
the first 100 Kms and Khan took over shortly, as I was sitting in the rear
without that “urge” to be in the driver’s seat which I used to experience years
back. Familiarity breeds contempt, and my case was no different as this highway
had become such a regular feature of my life when the monsoon season sets in.
But the irony is; the destination which I see every time through the path
created by this same road has bred only love that had grown stronger over the
years without the slightest of boredom in the horizon. Thereafter, the
aggressive driving of Khan enabled us to reach NICE road in Bangalore much
quicker than planned, as a matter of fact this was the earliest I had hit this
road in all of my preceding trips, and we made that much needed halt at my
favorite tea shop (in Tumkur) which is an oasis for west bound truck drivers. This
section of Karnataka lies in the rain shadow region and the dry spell was
prominent, though the temperature was comfortably cold. We were still few
hundred kilometers away from the action zone, where SW monsoon is the lead
character, and the fatigue induced by the long drive from Chennai was battling
against the urge to drive fast to get wet in the west. Tumkur- Chitradurga 6
lane expressway is a kind of road that needs a car like “Bentley Continental GT
Speed” to be ripped with; it need not be the fastest in the world but something
with that exotic aura surrounding it. I would love to get that chance and
even pay for it if the cost was my death, for what’s the meaning of living a hundred
years craving for something which you would never be able to go through. Obsessive compulsive disorder accompanying
me, I drove fast towards our destination toll gate by toll gate and sign board
by sign board as I adamantly accepted happiness means money, despite that not
being the truth which I would be learning in the next three days. There was
not a drop of rain until now and this enlarged the frustration that was boosted
by my decreasing stamina in recent days as I struggled to keep the Creta in the
intended path until we hit Chitradurga, the town of forts. From here we needed
to turn left into a highway that flooded my dreams 4 years back and with the
“legend” still hanging around, I slowly drove through the outskirts of
Chitradurga and caught with the legendary 100 + Kms that would lead us straight
to Shimoga, one of the gateways to the heaven called “West coast”. But as an
enhancement to my “instinct based fear” resulting from a poor south west
monsoon, this once beautiful road was
battered like a war torn road through Syria. Enthusiasm was at its lowest mark
as we joined the hectic lane expansion induced “disorderly” traffic, ignoring the
“official” road to Shimoga few hours back that still was a bliss, with no idea
of when we would reach our destination. I decided to calm down and drive slowly
to eliminate the factor of fear, but the road was too bad even for a crossover.
Disintegrated fear was converted to a more poised acceleration and this made no
difference to the uncertainty we were driving with as the road ahead seemed to
be unfriendly like none and never before. Those 100+ Kms were the biggest
ever challenge I endured and survived to see the morning next, but
slowly…painfully slowly…
This
was one of the rare moments when I hit my target, as I remained awake like a
rock in the sea and, ironically, woke up to the dawn right over the bridge that
ran across the “dehydrated” Tunga River. The first ever time I met this bridge
6 years back, the mighty Tunga was swollen and furious as reddish flood water
rushed from the distant Ghats towards the plains with relentless rains only
making that moment as romantic and breathtaking as it could get. Year over year, after that moment, the
decrease in intensity of rains had been apparent and this “increasing” scarcity
culminated in the early morning blurred view I had on that dry morning. As I
and Susheyl swapped seats to let him take control of the wheel, which I never
would have 6 years back for the final 100+ Kms ahead was like kissing a girl
with half closed eyes - you want to see it happen but the pleasure it offers
makes it apparently difficult to retain the eyes open, it was a moment of distraught
emotions as I doubted if it was the right time to take 2 of my new trip
partners further across the distant Ghats. There had been moments in the past
when crossing the town of Shimoga would translate life from being nothing to
incredible just in a matter of few Kms and those were the moments that fueled
incredible dreams and love into my life. This time around, our drive past
Shimoga took us from “nothing” to “poverty” as the incredible roads lay dry and
lifeless after living out their patience that was killed by their infinite waits
for the rains to hit them. The next 100 Kms or so fueled my desperation like
never before as I followed every single cloud hovering in the horizon like an
Israeli Mossad to predict if they will pour and drench away the dust collected
by us and the car over the last 600+ Kms. But they never did, as the most
expected moments in life never show up, and we pursued our destination that was
perched just at the beginning of the beautiful Ghats that blocked the romantic
clouds from drenching us until we stopped for a coffee break at a typical
Malnad shop. There was a hint of “wet”
in the nearby air and I sensed “ecstasy” to hit us in few moments as we packed
up and quickly hit the roads again. Western Ghats is an isolated magic that enables
mesmerizing memories for thousands of people, Iam one amongst them, and
livelihood for hundreds of thousands of them through its vital natural
resources that come along with an unlimited quantum of beauty and bounty. Our
place of stay for the day, The Matthuga, showed up suddenly, like always, and
we were prompt to check in and settle on the quiet verandah, that was coated
with red oxide, enjoying the “just started” rains though we were already 2.5
months into the SW Monsoon and this, though forcedly made me happy, didn’t
prompt the emotions amongst any one of us like it should have, or; it would
have 6 years back. Too much of people have caused too much of problems to
this planet, to an extent I always felt guilty I may be one amongst them, and
the evidences were most apparent in the ever
decreasing rains even in a region where “downpours” were as common as “waves on
the beach”. Belonging predominantly to the receiving end, not the deciding
end, I had nothing more to worry about on what I can control for the future and
took Khan and Susheyl to a nearby attraction that had the potential to melt our
seriousness and inhale pure ecstasy for the next few hours. I knew Jog like the back of my hand, but
sometimes we would have never seen the back of our hands in our entire life
time and when we do; surprise surprises us like no other surprise. This was
the first time I climbed down to the bottom of Jog, thanks to the different “perspectives”
of my new trip partners, that I tried something that I always felt lazy to, as
I entered a new world that seemed more beautiful than ever before. After an
hour of mesmerizing photo shoot at the bottom of Jog, we made a quick retreat
back to our home stay for an amazingly fresh bath in the water of Malnad before
we would drive on the annoyingly dark NH206 back to Sagar to buy our cans of
beer for the night. That night was one
of the recent ones when I fell asleep instantly the moment my beer cans went
empty, so was my heart…empty… as the electrifying exhilaration was long gone…long
buried…by the conspicuous absence of rains through the past couple of years…
The
morning next was kicked off with an exciting drive that would take us up
further north, towards Sirsi in Uttar
Kannad, and in the process would
give few extraordinary moments of ecstasy that could never be replaced by any
other kind of “alternative” on this planet. Adding to the excitement were the
phenomenal rains that began to accompany us as we climbed up into the beautiful
village road that raced towards Sirsi. I
still could not comprehend the feeling that I went through as we drove over the
rain drenched, remote and romantic road before subtly entering the district of
waterfalls, the mystic UK. All the chaos that made us unsettled during the past
24 hours were chased away as the ultra-smooth and wet road piercing
through the pristine Malnad region in absolute silence made the mad drive in blinding
rain a nostalgic one, while passing by native culture and Quaint villages with
awe and envy . It was the kind
of feeling that I craved to go through when I began this Jaunt and despite the
poor show by monsoon, I managed to record an incredible quantum of it so as to
wake me up in my sleep with tear in the eyes many days later after I had
reached back my home many hundred Kms away. Absolute serenity is what I could say as a last resort to convey the
true meaning of what I saw, this side of being present there physically to
comprehend what I mean. This drive further enhanced my love with SW monsoon forcing
me to be greedy enough to ask the super power to give me that valuable
opportunity of being born in some corner of this Ghats, may be running a rubber
plantation, in my next birth if something like that ever existed. It was
difficult to believe, thereafter, that we still had a lot more to see and go
mad about within the remaining day light that was fading away fast by losing
itself to the monsoon clouds. As we hit Sirsi, we jumped at the junction where
roads to Sirsi-Kumta-Siddapur meet and in the process, create a havoc of
confusion in selecting the direction as the traditional human greed shows up
provoked by the incredible ambience in all directions. We held our nerve and drove towards Kumta, after a cup of Malnad
coffee, to a beautiful Waterfall that was as difficult to see and get
enthralled as it would be made so by a Woman whose sun sign was Cancer. Unchalli
falls (also called Lushington falls) is a thundering, destroying fall on river
Aghanashini and it tests the patience of any visitor trying to get a glimpse of
her during the peak of monsoon when she would be at her best. Like in 2015, she disappointed us this year
too by hiding behind the thick mists her outrageous flow gave rise to (Photos
14, 17 and 28), as we waited for an hour hearing to her “roar” before
calling it a day and making the reluctant move. She was too tough and adamant,
that we couldn’t get a shot of her on the camera as we proceeded to the next
destination for the day that was even more spiritual and seducing. The drive on
the road that leads to Unchalli is mesmerizing, more so under monsoon rains, as we enjoyed every bit of those non recoverable
moments and pursued our next destination that was like an “outer world to a
just released prisoner” to anyone who had just been let down by the roaring
Unchalli. A first timer will be taken aback by the off-road trail that
leads to Bheemana Gudda, and my new trip partners weren’t an exception as they
reacted the same way I did a year back. Unlike in 2015, when I immediately got
the blessings, this time I was put to an
extreme test as I had to wait for 20 long minutes before the mists began to let
us have that spectacular view of river Aghanashini flowing towards the west
coast (Photos 13 and 23) and she again proved that this is the place God would
turn up to if he failed in his love. As it got gusty and cold, we retreated
back to the car for a mesmerizing drive through the rustic countryside of UK,
to reach back to Sirsi, and wind up for the day that wrote incredible memories
on our timeline.
The
beautiful views left us spellbound and culminated our road trip with an
experience that sent cold shivers across our tired bodies as we continued our
drive for a cup of traditional, hot coffee before hitting our night halt; the mystic
Bakula Homestay. A stay @ Bakula is always
thrilling, thanks to its spooky location, that we spent the night in utter
loneliness with Budweiser, a cat and a dog as the monsoon clouds were busy
preparing for the night downpour. It was a night to remember as an unavoidable
power cut rendered the homestay into a fearsome spookiness as I struggled alone
inside my cottage to shut my ears to the “out of this world” screeches until I
fell asleep, reiterating my resistance to the evil forces. The morning next
was one of the biggest “respites” I enjoyed in recent times as I woke up “sane”
despite the “insane” dreams through the night that went past, and this enabled
me to gear up for the final endeavor of this nostalgic road trip to Malnad. Our
drive that morning took us further north, towards Yellapur, a nostalgic town at
crossroads where roads crisscross to connect Hubli, Ankola and Dandeli; important
landmarks in their own, in pursuit of our final wish list for this trip. There
is always some unknown pleasure on offer while stopping by at a lonely tea
stall while on your way to that distant, exotic location and more so; when you
are on a vacation pursuing your dreams. The
road from Yellapur to Magod falls, the final destination of this jaunt, passed
through timeless countryside that oozed isolation from the outer world and a
thrilling ambience that was out of this world with rains romantically engulfing
the massive rain forest canopy. I had been to Magod twice in the past but
never was greeted by the ambience that I loved to be invited by, as this
attempt hinted at the culmination of my patience with a view that will leave me spellbound for the remaining of my life where/
when Magod will be mentioned, heard or spoken about (Photos 1 and 35). The
beating heart was brimming with contentment as we decided to extend this “bliss”
a little further by visiting a place that no one visits when the rains will be
thrashing. This place would seem to be
the ends of the earth as an unbelievable forest pathway leads the car (Photos 4
and 18) to a lonely hill top from where you can see what life would feel like
when it separates from your body and flies away into the unknown and unseen
(Photo 19). As rains pounded we understood what departure means and what it
feels like when it comes, as we reluctantly drove back to Yellapur for a hot
lunch with our thoughts still hanging around Magod. Post lunch Khan was
speeding the Creta through the fabulous country roads of Uttar Kannad as I quietly
fell asleep in the back seat before it was already a nostalgic, rainy evening.
Just as we were entering Sirsi I prompted Khan & Susheyl if we can depart
under the cover of darkness rather than the morning next, and they accepted the
proposal without much debate as we warmed up at Bakula with hot water and a set
of fresh, dry clothes. This was the first time ever that I departed from Malnad
during an evening that was filled with rains, memories and the countless cries
of cicadas from within the deep forests, as we stopped for one last time at
Sirsi for a cup of refreshing coffee. As
we started our journey back to Chennai and hit the dark state highway towards
Haveri, I was able to realize that the 3 days that went past not only rendered
our trip wet, but; also my heart and memories as I strongly began to believe
this potentially was my last trip to this region. Pain of separation, always,
will prevail over the pleasure of being together, just like the hot spice
burning the mouth after that heavenly taste it offered. I showed the flag to my
heart for selecting the title “Wet in the West” not because it was wet in the
west but, because it was my heart that was drenched. I couldn’t neither squeeze
it nor dry it rather, I let it to be the way it was and let the time do its
magic. Healing wasn’t going to be easy though…so is life…and this was one
of those rare moments in life when that distant joy overshadowed and suppressed
the recent pain of departure from my favorite region, as I held myself together
strongly until Susheyl dropped me back at the same spot where he picked me up 3
days ago…
