The Iron Fort - Part IV

[continued from the previous post]

Lohagad is an imposing fort when you approach it. The ramparts are in excellent condition for a structure over 300 years old and the only signs of real erosion are on the steps leading through the fort, where water has created its own pathways over the years.

The arches enclosing the doorways still look remarkably sturdy and one can still see the holes in the walls that must have housed the barrels of many a cannon in the days gone by. Pretty impressive, we thought. We were left licking our lips in anticipation as to what would be found on top of the fort.

There we were mistaken. There was NOTHING of note on top of the fort, except a decrepit, dome-shaped mausoleum
and a bunch of rather aggressive monkeys which used to chase people carrying bags! The first time (with Vix), the monkeys snarled at us and made a move towards our bag but we beat a hasty retreat. The second time we were not so lucky. Some of us had moved away on our respective journeys of exploration, leaving behind D and E with the bags. The monkeys had a suitable target and laid their theiving hands on our luggage in the hope of snatching a tasty snack. Fortunately D and E along with a few others managed to scare them off.

Soon afterwards we beat a retreat, a lot tireder than when we started climbing. The sun and humidity had taken their toll. A hasty lunch at a wayside restaurant had us rejuvenated for a bit and we made our way back to Malavli station pretty quickly, helped along the way by welcome bars of chocolate.

Our adventure drew close to an end as we neared the station. However, a small twist in the road to come. There was no train due for the next 1.5 hours, so we had to take a couple of rickety autos and drive all the way to Lonavla :-)) - the route to Lonavla from Malavli was scenic as well so we did not really mind the bone-rattling drive. Along came Lonavla and a couple of chikki packets and half an hour later, we were on our way back home, tired but satisfied with a day well spent.

And oh, by the way, this post has been such a long time in the making that yours truly decided it was better to have a terse post and finish off the series than have no post at all :)

The Iron Fort - Part III

By the time I am completing this write up, the trek that we went on already ought to be a bit of a distant memory. The negligent kid in me feels like flinging down the pen and paper and walking off in a huff, miffed at his own inability to string together a write-up in time. The long forgotten trait of discipline! Hmph!

But then, the more I think about it, the more I realize that this was a trek not easily forgotten. The memories stay with me as green as a freshly watered leaf. So here goes.

The Fork in the Road:
We set off pretty briskly from Malavli station, stocking ourselves up with water, chocolates and chewing gum at a quaint provisions store on the way. The group soon split into two: 'the front-runners' and 'the back-markers' - Political propriety prevents me from saying who formed part of which group :). So let me make an ABC case out of it.

A,B and C were the frontrunners whereas D and E brought up the rear. It was quite hot that day, unlike the first trek which had a nice spray-like rain cooling me and Vix on the way. The fact did not go un-noticed and E told me, "Ranga! It is so hot! You should have asked us to bring sun-tan lotion!". Ah well, given that it had been raining the last two times I came here, forgive me for my oversight.

I thought, the weather has the uncanny ability to change the fortunes of many a man, more renowned than me. Take Hitler for instance. It was like the leader of his Russian front troops coming up to him on one fine winter morning and telling him "My dear man, You said Siberia would be nice and breezy at this time of the year and it is 40 degrees below zero - you should have told us to get our fur coats along!"

Hitler would have done two things - shrug his shoulders expansively and then shoot the Russian Commander. Given my placid nature, I thought of doing just the former :D

And shortly, after a rather sweaty climb with many breaks in between, we reached a fork in the road. Well to be more accurate, it was more like a "T-junction" on top of a mound connecting two hills. There were forts on either hill, the one on the right being Lohagad, and the one on the left, Visapur. Since Vix and I had gone right and reached Lohagad easily last time round, we took the left turn hoping to conquer Visapur this time. The fort was clearly visible - the end was nigh, or so I thought.

Our turn to Visapur did not start on the right note, with the track taking a downward turn as soon as we started off... but the hope was that it would rise again. And rise it did, though not as sharply as we'd have liked. It kept winding on and on and on and soon we realized that we might be taking an entire chakkar around the hill without going any higher at all. Serious self doubt began to creep in and the entire team was beginning to blame me for taking them on such a tortuous path. Of course, a 35 degree sun beating on our backs did not help the state of mind either. "Turn back" was the common refrain, but we plugged on for a short while afterward.

Thankfully, our decision was made relatively easy by an almost-impassable stretch of slush and mud replacing the road we were walking on. There we took a halt and decided to beat a retreat. The amount of flak that I had to take for 'guiding' people onto this route was unbelievable! When Vix and I went to Lohagad, we consulted this local stripling, who told us at the T-junction that the right path led to Lohagad and left to Visapur. And those directions I followed, in full faith. Never knew that my faith in the local would turn around and bite me in the shin like that.

I could imagine the gang's state of mind though. The Israelites would have felt the same of Moses, who if, after a long, tedious crossing of the sea had turned around and told them, "Look folks! Here is a desert. Now I would dearly love to take all you guys to the promised land, but you have to make do without water or food for the next twenty years" - not the most charitable of feelings I s'pose.

But then, all the grumbling aside, I was with a team of great sports and they decided to follow me up to Lohagad - we were back to the T-junction in just over 20-25 minutes though it had taken us nearly 45 minutes to traverse the same distance towards Visapur. Good progress made! Now we headed towards Lohagad, again taking a few breaks along the way.

Thanks to our diversion, a gang of trekkers, clearly led by some Team building/Event management kinda company had joined us (we had overtaken them right at the base of Malavli). Now this would have been fine, had the over-enthusiastic trekkers not had an inclination for shouting out "Har Har... Mahadev", every five minutes. We felt like pushing them off a cliff for their chants.

We kept plugging on and many muttered curses, tired steps and determined stair-climbs later, we reached the summit of Lohagad fort.

(rest in next)

The Iron Fort - Part II

This write-up should have come some four weeks back if it had to have any reasonable accuracy. But as has been the long continuing tradition, laziness got the better of me.

In the meanwhile, however, I have managed to complete another (un)successful trek to Lohagad, leading a pack of office junta - Varun, Arunav, Rhea Shaama (Nishant Kumar being an absentee) - the "(un)" part coming in because we ended roughly two kilometres west of where we were supposed to end up (i.e, the adjoining Visapur Fort)! But, what the heck... trekkers can't be choosers! In hindsight, I comfort myself by mouthing some lines from "Yun Hi Chala" ... (Movie: Swades)

...जो राह तू चले अपने मन् की
हर पल की सेब से मोती ही तू चुने
जो सदा तू सुने अपने मन् की

At the end of the day, we had a great time during both treks and that is what matters!

Before I get into the narrative, let me have a preliminary digression to give some relevant travel information for the avid trekker.

Destination: Lohagad Fort (9 km away from the nearest railway station, Malavli)
Route: Mumbai (Dadar) - Lonavla - Malavli (by train)
Mode of transport: Train
Start time: 5.50 Am Indrayani Express from Dadar - scheduled for halt at Lonavla
Arrive at Lonavla: 8.05 AM
Catch the local train from Lonavla to Pune - 8.15 AM
Reach Malavli (Next station after Lonavla) - 8.20 AM
Start Trekking: 8.30 AM
Reach Lohagad Fort: 11.30-11.45 AM (at a fairly brisk walking pace)
Explore the fort and have lunch in the meanwhile: 11.45 AM - 1.30 pm
Start descent: 1.30 PM
Reach Malavli Station: 3.45-4.00 PM
Take train to Lonavla: 4.50 PM
Reach Lonavla: 4.55 PM
Catch train to Mumbai: 5.30 PM
Reach Mumbai: 7.45 PM


Now, since our two treks were largely similar in nature for the most part, I am combining the narratives into one.

The red-eyed mornings:

Let us take some time out here and contemplate the life of a sparrow. Have you ever thought how early a sparrow has to get up in the morning to start hunting for the unwitting worm? Have you thought how animals have to make do without snooze buttons? Have you contemplated how boring it must be to be up and about at the crack of dawn? Must be immensely difficult, no?

Even for me, a person used to an "up-and-about-at-6-am" ritual at one point of time in the distant past, getting up at 4 am for a trek on a Saturday morning can be a pain, me having lost the 'early-rising' habit long back. Additionally, since I had spent a fair few late nights during that week at work, I was cursing myself under my breath for having such a hare-brained trekking idea when I got up.

The first time round, Me and Vix managed to get up in time (just about) and left for Dadar Station from our respective homes at 4.40 AM(!). The second time was more of an adventure, as I became the "Mr.Alarm Clock" for all of my team-mates, giving all of them some wake-up telephone calls, yet getting another half hour of snooze time in between! Still, I managed to leave for Dadar station by 5 AM

A tale of three stations:

Dadar station, as many people would know is probably THE busiest station in all of Mumbai. The amount of hustle and bustle there at 5 am is unbelievable. Serpentine queues, busy porters, chai stalls doing roaring business, bewildered travellers trying to navigate a labyrinthian scheme of foot overbridges and platforms (for the uninitiated, there are multiple platforms with the same number in Dadar station - apparently due to two separate sets of railway lines passing through the same station! Be careful when you ask a fellow traveller to meet you at Platform No. 4!!). If ever there was a setting designed to make one feel like an ant, this is it!

Now, given that Vix and I had left together, the trip to Dadar station and the attendant navigational bloopers were much diminished. The journey to Lonavla too was uneventful, with the only interesting incident worth recounting being better described by the following picture.



Things, however, were different the second time round.

Arunav Tripathi and Shaama were the unfortunate victims of the 'dual Platform number' confusion. There are two Platform No. 4's in Dadar station. I did not know this fact and had asked everyone to assemble on Platform No. 4 at 5.30 Am sharp. Shaama managed to overcome the confusion in time and reach PF. No. 4 by around 5.35 or so (thank God for cell phones). Arunav Tripathi, of course, was not so lucky. Not only did he come a bit late to Dadar station, but also got lost in the maze of foot overbridges in his attempt to come to the ill-fated platform.

The Indrayani express puffed by 5.50 Am (dot on time!) and was scheduled to depart in the next couple of minutes, closely followed by Arunav Tripathi huffing and puffing his way onto the platform, and that too ticketless! Better late than never though... we hurriedly boarded the train and it chugged out of Dadar station shortly.

After the usual cloak and dagger deals with the TTE, we managed to extricate Arunav from his ticketless plight and sped away on our serene journey to Lonavla - beautiful scenery sped rapidly to greet us. The refreshing smell of the fresh earth was a welcome change from the smoggy pollution of Mumbai roads. The change of scenery from Kalyan to Karjat (stations en route to Lonavla) was stark - dank shanties and stinking streams, nay rivers, of sewage giving way to verdant fields, idyllic thatched houses and gurgling silvery brooks.

The way from Karjat to Lonavla was even better, with steep valleys fading away into the depths on one side and gorgeous waterfalls greeting us with their spray on another. (This experience was better the first time when I went with Vix, thanks to it raining intermittently then). The train too was fast, just halting at three stations en route to Lonavla.

We reached Lonavla by around 8.10 Am, greeted by swirling clouds and fine drizzle the first time and with warm sunlight the second time. But oh man! Lonavla station sure is DIRTY! One look at the tracks below and you would want to puke! The station is dirty even by normal Indian standards, with the track just being one unending mass of plastic litter, paper bags, carelessly thrown chikki packets... grrr.... when will the Indian public change its mindset?

Anyway, me and Vix managed to grab a breakfast at the station, and, unknowingly, missed the 8.15 local to Malavli in the process. We had to wait for another couple of hours for the next local and occupied ourselves by searching out photo-worthy scenes within Lonavla station. Nothing much could be classified as photo-worthy material, except, of course, a seedy, run-down building that claimed itself to be "Suyash theatre- Dolby Digital" - If that theatre is Dolby Digital then I am George W. Bush.

The second time round, I was wiser, running down to the ticket counter and getting the team some tickets to Malavli and running back in time for catching the 8.15 local from Lonavla. Thank God we made it in time! Spending 2 hours in that dirty station was not my idea of fun!

Malavli is the next station after Lonavla on the way from Mumbai to Pune. The train made short work of the miles in between and 5 minutes after it started from Lonavla station, we found ourselves in the quaint railway station that was Malavli. You reach the station and you perceptibly feel the nature of life undergoing a sea change - fewer people on the platform, a much slower pace of activity an infinitely cleaner station than Lonavla! A lazy, contented feeling envelops you like Chanel perfume and the mood is set for a lovely trek.

(rest in next)

Paradise revisited!

I went on a client visit recently to a place around 100 km from Mumbai. The site is nestled amidst gently rolling hills which erupt in violent greenery during the monsoons.
The client guest house overlooks a little lake on one side and a small hill (with a couple of waterfalls) on the other. The hill was typical of what you'd find around Mumbai - like a table, with intense greenery at the bottom, some sheer rock faces in the middle (of course! how else would the waterfalls form?) and again greenery(primarily grassy) on the top.

The entire scenic package was too tempting to pass up without a trek... and trek we did! We (me and a couple of client team members) started off one morning (6 a.m!) and left for the temple. It had drizzled/rained continuously the previous day and the route was wet. The clouds too were tantalizingly indecisive: "Should I unload my watery burden or do I carry it elsewhere?". But it was not raining when we started.

We went towards the temple, trudging towards the base of the hill. The forests at the base were wet and looked like they had been newly sent back from the cleaners. The moon peeped at us naughtily over the top of the hill (yes, it was that early in the morning!) just to be swallowed by some angry looking clouds shortly. We had to climb a set of haphazardly assembled stairs to reach the temple. They were quite slippery, with all the rain and moss. A word of advice here: Never wear running shoes on a slippery trek! Trekking shoes are different from running shoes for a reason, and I found it out the hard way!

Keeping a steady pace, we reached the temple in around 20 minutes, despite stopping here and there for clicking some pictures. The temple was built around a crack in the rock face and had a Kalimata-like deity inside the crack. We reached the porch of the temple and got a breathtaking view of the surrounding hills and plains. There is just one word to describe the feeling: "PEACE"

Soon after we reached the temple, the benevolent-till-now clouds changed their minds and decided to unburden themselves on us. The shower lasted around 20 minutes and we could see the volume of water in the adjacent waterfall growing visibly. Thank God we had some shelter! During the shower we had the song of a turned-on mynah (or some such bird) to keep us entertained. The range of tunes it could produce were stunning - quite the composer! I named it A-Mynah (pronouced the British way, it is the same as A-Minor :))...

Once the rain subsided, we left the temple and branched off towards the waterfall. One of the team members, Rajan Tendolkar, is a trekking enthusiast. His knack for finding the right paths and goat-tracks was amazing. We had the roar of the water to guide us as well... amazing how such a small waterfall could generate so much noise.

Slipping and stumbling, we soon reached a stream which seemed to emanate from the waterfall and then the task became easier. Sometimes along the stream, and sometimes through it, we went; higher and higher till we came to an impassably dense bit of shrubbery which would lead directly to a wedge in the rock face where the waterfall turned. At that point we took some more photos, before turning towards the base.

We took a different route to the base, heading north instead of south (where we came from). This took us through yet another stream and a few leg-grabbing creepers/bushes before we reached a beautiful clearing where the streams split into small rivulets gently meandering around the clearing. Soaking in the sight, we plugged on, only to get soaked again :), this time through marshy grasslands. I nearly lost my shoe there! But this was a short stretch and we were soon on the road leading to the guest house again.

2 hours, a bit of mud and a lot of water later, we were back in the guest house, feeling hungry, exhilarated and of course, slightly sad that it had to end. Of course, half an hour afterwards, the rest of the team and I were rushing off to deliver yet another presentation at the client site... there is consulting for you! Rushing headlong from one experience to the next ...

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Of Lions, Politics and the Gita

It has been a looooooong time since I blogged. But finally, a completely chill weekend and a cup of coffee has made me decide to revive my rusty literary fingers with a small writing session on blogosphere once again.

Quite a bit has happened in my life since I bid adieu to IIMA in my last post… For starters, I got just about a week off before I joined work . Consultancy beckoned… and so did aamchi Mumbai. Shifting from campus was not that big a deal, but getting my parents to shift into the city was an additional responsibility. But thank God, that went off without a hitch.

I have accumulated a lot of thoughts during my three-month old career in consultancy, which I have been itching to put into words. Apart from the substance of these thoughts, I also realized I had spent too much time with Nat Geo and Discovery channel in my formative years J. The similarities between living in the managerial fast lane and the life that many animals live out there in the wild are striking. I now understand the meaning of the phrases ‘rat race’ and ‘dog-eat-dog world’ in their truest sense. Let me draw an analogy.

Take the instance of a male lion’s life in the African Savannah. The male lion’s entire adult life revolves around getting mating rights over the females and defending his ‘harem’ from other adult lions. Territorial disputes are a way of life for our harassed, yet majestic feline. There is no such thing as a harmless male adult in lion society; each is interested in building its genetic pool and thwarting its competitors for survival.

Now consider life in a city like Mumbai, which is renowned for its ‘survivor’ attitude. Not only do the people here have to fend for themselves in order to get ahead in life, they also have to be wary of other individuals encroaching upon their ‘space’ in the race for resources. The same behaviour gets exhibited in different ways in different spheres of economic activity. At the lower levels, the auto-wallahs fight their daily battle by trying to extract that one rupee extra from the unwary customer. In the corporate world, people’s ambitions to get to the higher levels or to protect their current jobs are paramount drivers of their behaviour. This desire makes them aggressive. Power and politics rule the roost and establishing one’s territories as wide as possible is a way of life. I observe these ‘instincts’ at work every day in my project.

But given the phenomenal success of our species in infesting pretty much every part of the planet, I often wonder what is the reason in fighting tooth and nail to establish power hierarchies in corporate circles… does it have any meaning whatsoever? What is it that they want to achieve in life? And will these ‘territorial disputes’ help people achieve whatever they seek to do?

This was the primary question I posed to myself recently. I found something which resembled a satisfactory answer to the question (and not unsurprisingly, it related to animal behaviour J), but surprisingly I realized that it was not so much an interest in these ‘territorial disputes’ as it was a question of that elusive thing called happiness. Will I be happy running the race on a day-to-day basis? It was then that I turned to my source of eternal advice and comfort – The Bhagavad Gita

The Gita talks about the way of action: devoting oneself to the achievement of excellence in one’s chosen sphere of activity without bothering about the results of the process. And to borrow a line from one of my favourite professors in IIMA, ‘you should find joy in the process, and not in the result’. In a way, I also think the Gita talks about choices. People (especially out of B-school campuses and into their jobs) often question the choice they made in taking or not taking a particular company or field, so much so that attrition rates in the first year after leaving campus is often in excess of 60-70%. The Gita on the other hand, I believe, talks about picking a choice based on the available information and not looking back at it to see whether it was the right thing or not but rather, to do that which is needed to make the choice work.

But will doing ‘that which is needed’ entail doing something unethical or immoral or against one’s code of conduct? I for one firmly believe that there is very little role for aggressive conflict in people’s lives. But such conflicts are a reality in everyday corporate life. My sattvik nature rebels against getting into the quicksand of conflict, but then how do I defend myself when being faced with it? My ‘survivor’ instinct tells me that I should become aggressive myself but I somehow believe that this is not the way I want to live my life… but then, having made the choice to be in the field of management, I need to do ‘that which is needed’ to make my choice work. What will it involve? It simply involves defending my territory against ‘encroachment’, clearly demarcating my boundaries and letting people know kindly but firmly that intrusions beyond those boundaries are not permitted.

I have my place in this world; I am a unique individual and nothing which other people say will make me question my abilities or my capacity to learn from others. I am here to do something which I have chosen to do and I will do it within the framework of my morals and my way of life. I will find happiness in doing the thing I have chosen. I WILL NOT have regrets. At the same time I will do what I think is fit to make the world a better place for all of us to live in. If I have to bide my time, so be it.

I now feel a bit sheepish at writing all these on my blog but I believe this is something all of us face as adults in an intensely competitive world waiting outside for us.

Bye Bye Winter

I feel so sad... just a few days after my post on wintry nights et al., I am forced to say goodbye to the wonderful Ahmedabad winter. The night temperatures really dipped a week back, but now they are rising again. I can no longer feel the rush of a cold breeze on my skin when I walk out in the open (and by the way, that does not mean that I have become numb, just that the temperatures have gone up :-)).

Well, It was good while it lasted. This is probably the best winter I have experienced ever. Pretty natural too, for one whose ideas of winter are as equatorial as it can get. For a person who has seen too much of the sun at its resplendent glory, this winter was pretty much near nirvana. My last winter was in Mumbai (when at work with the Taj Group). Pretty okay types winter we got there. The night air tended towards chilliness but nowhere near the sustained effect created by the Ahmedabad winter. Well, I guess all good things come to an end.

Talking about coming to the end, I think I am running out of ideas for this entry... have another entry lined up though.

So that's all for now.
Sitan

Of Wintry nights and Cold Baths...

WOW!

The Winter in Ahmedabad is simply amazing. We are into February but the winter shows no signs of lessening. The cold wave started off in November sometime I believe. I heard this winter was bad even by Ahmedabad standards. But then I have found the whole experience extremely enjoyable. Very strange, considering that I have spent most of my life in a place where the lowest it ever comes to is around 20 degrees C.

It reminds me of another entry that my friend posted sometime back... totally unexplicable behaviour from a couple of equatorial sojourners. But then, I think it might have something to do with the fact that we enjoy the cold weather so much that we like feeling colder than the normal Northie. Even then I find it strange while I go to class boldly flaunting a short half sleeve cotton t-shirt while many of my friends come in leather jackets, full sleeved sweaters and what not... maybe it has something to do with the cold water baths I take every morning.

It is a totally unique experience to have a cold water bath in the middle of winter. I mean... imagine this situation. You just get out of your bed (muttering curses under your breath) at 6 am in the morning. After some time, you dare to venture out of the comfort and warmth of your room to get ready for classes. You quickly towards the bathroom and open the shower tap. Brrrrrrrrrr..... It is like being pierced with a thousand sharp needles all at one time. But then your body gets used to the temperature and you shake of your sleepiness faster than a dog shakes off water off its back. Believe me, once you get over that first cold drenching, it is a totally refreshing experience.

These bathroom exploits of mine have been the subject of many an amazed look from my dorm mates :-D. Somehow, that makes it even more fun. Most importantly, the coldness of the bath makes the winter air much more comfortable...

Too much on this already... better stop before the reader gets cold feet!!! ;-) (and stops reading.)

Sitan

singin' in the rain

it has been raining continually for God Knows how many days here at IIMA. The campus is getting flooded and we have to wade through gallons and gallons of water to get to our classes.Mr.Louis Kahn probably came from a Desert. So he apparently forgot that there are such things as rains. The drainage system at IIMA is adequate testimony to this...

The rains of course have brought their own power cuts to this place. We have been having Economics sessions in pitch darkness (there is hardly any natural light in the classrooms). Talk about knowledge dispelling the darkness of ignorance.

We also have this thingy called T-Nite at IIMA, where all first year students ("facchas") have a whale of a time trying to out-shout and out-perform their colleagues from other sections. The seniors say that this is the most memorable time that we will ever get to spend at IIMA. I don't doubt them. The fever runs really high and loyalty to your section really comes through. The fun is even more when we have to rush out in the pouring rain for buying stationery, bugles, ribbons and stuff .

This week promises to be really hectic, what with having to keep your preparations for class up to the mark and simultaneously trying to see that your section emerges on top... But then, as McDonald's slogan goes:

"I'm luvin' it"

Signing off.