For the past 6 months life turned out to be
an electronic device plugged to an unknown power source. It was controlled by
many, toiled by many, made to run by many, disturbed by many and exhausted by
many. Surprisingly, I didn’t make an
attempt to pull away as during the preceding years for the impact from a poor
SW monsoon in 2012 was still lingering around my personal space. I was feared
to create hype within my imaginative world, for I did not want to end up with
utter disappointment as in 2012. If she arrives on time, let her; if she pours
like never before, let her; if she brings back life in millions, let her; if
she waits for me, let her; as I donated my entire time to the worldly
sufferings for I did not want to end up waiting for her; “her” who never arrived
in 2012. I was sitting like a small boy, adamantly; with occasional
thoughts from the beautiful moments of 2012 scripted through sleepless efforts
injecting the urge, gradually; to pack up and unplug. Nevertheless, I was
cautious and doubtful to kick start my 2013 edition as SW monsoon made a
“better than 2012” start by delivering copious rainfall along the Malabar and
Karwar coasts. Boosting my confidence was the dream like “occasional” downpours
that drenched the outskirts of Chennai, and I slowly began to recognize the
“vigor” of 2013 SW Monsoon. Apart from the fear over the vigor and spread of
Monsoon, another significant inhibition to my departure was the lack of a
camera and which I was planning for quite some time to invest in. The 24-105 F/4
“L” series Canon Lens was lying dormant, waiting for its mate, and it never had
the idea of what it would be paired with. Despite
my inherent selfishness to shy away from investments of prominence; I went
ahead and debited USD 3800 from my loving savings on the body of Canon 5D
Mark-3. I never knew my life would be changed forever with the arrival of 5D
Mark-3, and her entry even overshadowed a “potentially’’ successful monsoon
ravaging the west coast. Ever since I saw her for real, since I was touched by
her, since I was drenched by her; there was nothing in this world worthy enough
to divert my thoughts from her. It’s a recurring event in my life and if only
5D M-3 managed to grab a little of that attention, it was only because of its
worthiness to capture and portray my love in a heart melting way like none; not
even my best of the constructed statements. With a brand new weapon on
hand, I was waiting in the office for my friend Dave to arrive in his brand new
VW Polo and the fact that it’s not every day in life you get this kind of start
to a year of fun, memories and nostalgia; made me to love this wait. When I boarded the Polo and hit the
highway, with sun going down in the west, Pink Floyd’s “High Hopes” was
electrifying the ambience and the words; “Grasses are green” made me go
impatient as I took to the steering to burn away the remaining 600+ Kms and
see it all for real, see it all…as my “more than a year” painful wait comes to
an end and begins to get washed away by the prolific SW monsoon of 2013.
For the past three years I have been making
repeated attempts to capture the beautiful Hebbe falls nestled deep in the
Kemmangundi (Also Kemmannugundi, meaning; red soiled pit) forests, but the
punishing terrain and the time constraint affiliated with my trip schedules
limited my capability in reaching there. This
year though, I was determined to reach her despite the heavy monsoon showers plundering
the Ghats and just a thought of walking through the mind disturbing ambience of
the monsoon drenched Ghats took me into a voluntary coma. With the thought
of having perfectly planned this time, I and Dave were driving, through NH4,
the brand new “Candy white” VW Polo TDi Highline Hatchback and I enjoyed every
aspect of that hot hatch. It was perfectly finished with well-engineered
interiors, beautifully crafted aluminum inserts, eye catching illumination,
attention grabbing alloys, ever seducing steering and the gear lever and; the
overall satisfaction of a perfect justification for the money you pay. With the
confidence derived from 2 full days of a monsoon drenched July weekend, we were
enjoying the drive on a brand new 6 lane highway laid down very recently by
NHAI. I ignored our routine stop at the
Shoolagiri coffee day and sped across NH7 into the border of the state that
controls my imagination since 2010. Handed over the steering to Dave at the
last toll gate before Bangalore, and stretched up on the passenger seat after a
moment of hot tea under a mild drizzle in an unnamed stall where we were the
only customers along with a lonely couple on their way to a distant destination.
It was seducing to engage the push back and lie down with half closed eyes as
the VW Polo protected us from the cold air outside and pierced its way through
the “frustrating” NICE road to establish contact with the lonely, long and
misty NH4. Just 10 Kms into NH4 we would be taking the left at Neelamangala
Junction to board the sexy NH75, just laid and fresh, that traverses towards
the west coast through some of the most scenic views. NH75 holds a special
place in my heart for when you drive over it; you drive through a kind of
nostalgic loneliness that induces a slow addiction making you crave. Towards the west coast, past Hassan, NH75
climbs across the Ghats and in doing so passes through mind boggling locations
that would instill inside you a lifetime supply of tears. I had, once in
the past, driven until Donigal and NH75 melted me down with its inherent Malnad
magic, no reasons or whatsoever; past Hassan NH75 melts my heart like a cube of
ice. This time, however; we will be taking the diversion towards Chikmagalur at
Hassan and until then I slept in the comfort of Polo’s cabin peeping out
occasionally at the beautifully lit countryside. We had an early morning halt few
Kms before Hassan from where I took control; before losing control to drive
past Hassan and in the process have a glimpse of the heaven near the foothills
of Western Ghats. Reluctantly; I turned back towards the destination with an
uncertain and crying heart that questioned when will it happen? Another year of
wait? With no answers, I pressed the
throttle to make the 1.2 L TDi engine rev hard and take us to our destination;
a destination that induced challenge 3 years back and a challenge that remains
unconquered yet. I was not sure this time around too, though I wore a
confidence inspiring mask on my face that would be removed by her unrivalled
beauty and wilderness.
Our resort lay on the outskirts of
Chikmagalur, on the road to Kadur, nestled between the fringes of the Ghat
section and the location was conducive for a relaxed state of mind. The
cottages were made entirely of wood and this added to the “close to nature”
feeling as we quickly geared up for that rustic drive to Hebbe, hidden deep in the Ghats. I and Dave have executed quite a number of trips in isolation and we
still love to drive to the Ghats, repeatedly, when the monsoon winds hit the
west coast. Our joint journeys that began way back in 2010 were going strong
and good and I wasn’t sure how long would these jaunts sustain. It was only a
matter of time, maybe; a moment in a lifetime as eventually we would end up
with our life partners and the paths would diverge as it did with our lifelong
friends. Breaking the emotive moment was the sudden “Road block” orchestrated
by the local political group as our precious time was burnt away sitting idle
inside the car. This was the first major
blow to my third attempt and I already knew she’s gone, I already could see her
flowing away from me like an angel and I already could feel the defeat without
even having made the slightest of the attempt I had planned to. Hebbe again
proved to be a distant dream, as we changed plans and diverted our attention to
a distant peak crowded around by thick chunks of monsoon clouds. I was in a
confused state of mind, as the distant peak was dangerously grabbing my
attention, and slowly conceded to practicality when I asked Dave to drive
towards the peak buried deep inside the clouds. They say when man suffers the loss of a woman; it only could be compensated
by another, as I slowly began to realize how our sudden change in destination
induced us to ecstasy like never before and compensated for the loss of Hebbe.
The mountain we were driving towards was none other than the highest peak of Karnataka,
the mighty Mullayanagiri, with monsoon adding that magical touch to the beautiful
natural formation. VW Polo looked absolutely stunning against the backdrops
offered by this brilliant section of the Ghats and I enjoyed an extensive photo
session capturing the baby VW in an electrifying ambience. The road to Mullayanagiri is potentially “the dangerous road” in south
India as vehicles crave for space and its occupants for their life, when there
is traffic on either side of the “thin” tarmac that winds its way up towards
the apex. There is just enough space
for two small cars and when a big truck/bus approaches in the other lane, it’s
a fight for life as it hangs in balance thousands of feet above sea level with
fog covering up the death ditch below. An ultra-cautious drive took us up
towards the peak and on reaching there; I was spellbound as the body shivered
against the freezing cold and speeding gust and we were forced to retreat back into
the car. All that could be done was to
sit inside the protective confines of German engineering and watch the reckless
havoc of nature as she painted the region white with a ruthless cocktail of
mist, rain and breeze. The three formed a powerful union and made anything that
stood on their way to run for cover, as I struggled to capture the moments with
even a 5D M3 and the beautiful aggression was just overwhelming my imagination.
Switched on the powerful CD player and Pink Floyd came to the rescue again with
those powerful words, “the grasses are green” and it never meant so true than
here at the highest point of Karnataka. What a night later it was;
beautiful dreams from the Ghats, shivering body from the cold attack, what a 10
hour sleep that was…my conscience
appreciated the physical self to let it the way it was intended to be. But
still deep in the heart…I was missing Hebbe, and never knew my never ending
search for her would lead me directly into one of the most secluded beauties
the day next.
After a 9 hour sleep
and the massive dosage of “fresh” oxygen the previous day, physical self was
rejuvenated and supported well my conscience to let it pursue its dream. A dream that has remained a dream for the
past 3 years and every other symptom indicating it would remain so for another
year. With a hint of disappointment I packed up and drove with Dave towards
Kemmangundi from where Hebbe is a 22 Kms trek, two way, through a severely
Leech infested territory during the monsoons and after this; Iam expected to be
in office the next morning after a 700 Kms non-stop drive. This one reason was enough to melt my confidence like an ice cube
inside a powerless refrigerator, slow and strong dissipation. Nevertheless,
we drove with that much needed enthusiasm through the heart ripping Ghat
section and I felt ashamed, like an
impotent with a girl, for having underestimated this region. If there was no
job in this world, if I had lost both my parents, if I had nothing to care
about; I would sustain here until my life left the physical self. The road
through the quaint forests hid the fearsome natural elements beneath and
exposed only the subtle beauty to the mankind, one step into the luring beauty
would send unseen species of crawling elements over the fragile and urban toned
“useless” body. I and Dave had massive dosages of photographic opportunities,
along with pristine oxygen, and every time we got out of the protective
confines of the car we would be constantly made to look out for an element of
surprise, either crawling or on 4 legs. Western
Ghats did it again, like numerous times before; as it made me kneel down and
lift my hands in prayer for this kind of beauty needs to be prayed. When I walk
slowly and disappear into the mist, when I keep staring into the forest
“packed” with fog, when I look for the end of a wet road piercing through
pristine forests, when I come across occasional people herding the cattle, when
I bump into a puffy dog guarding its owner’s estate, when I watch the dripping
leaves, when I admire the algal bloom on tree trunks, when my fuming coffee
loses heat under ripping gust, when I sit inside the car as its parked under a
torrential downpour on the edge of a cliff, when a native woman helps with
direction, when a mildly lit settlement appears on the adjacent hill as I drive
towards an unknown destination; I see myself as “have left this world” for a
good reason. Present life and its daily events has made it clear life is a sin,
life is a punishment, life is hasty, life needs to be extinguished within a
determined boundary but each time I complete a jaunt to the Ghats when monsoon
is ravaging the region; I bow down and cry, willingly, to god to make me born
here the next time he sends me out. Quality of life is long gone but still; I
feel there is hope when I visit her and come back with a box of memories that re-write
my perceptions. After a day of rented stay in the “Adobe of Gods” I and
Dave reluctantly made a retreat 10 Kms before Kemmangundi as this stretch fell
within the boundary of Bhadra Tiger Reserve and the roads seemed to be ignored
for the past few years. With darkness fast approaching we made a rapid descent
and reached the plains by dusk, after which I drove like I never liked to sleep
and dispatched the massive distance with utmost ease and speed that, I pulled
into a coffee day outlet 30 Kms before Chennai around 2:30 AM. Had a chat over
a cup of coffee and to my surprise, I didn’t feel a hint of sleep; maybe the
massive dosage of virgin oxygen, and it was a quick drop thereafter at my home as Dave left me to walk away with my dreams
yet another time. I did go to office that day, with a heavy head, and came
back home running to buy myself a 10 hour sleep. A week went past, I went to my favourite park on an overcast evening to
jog, few minutes into the Jog I was all alone in the big park, the gates were partially
closed, the clouds opened up and began to batter Chennai, I gradually pulled
myself under the roof of a maintenance room, there was a power shutdown that
plunged the park under a romantic darkness as I stood still and watched the
heavy downpour…she was calling …I was unable to reach her…and dejectedly walking
through the dark street as Eminem’s “sometimes I think, think; there’s nothing
to live for” echoed in the imaginary distance. I knew I will meet her again,
as I checked behind my neck to find the cable plugged back and controls’
starting to flow in; I knew it was only a matter of time, before I unplugged
forever.
