WET IN THE WEST, AUG-2016

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…