Skip to main content

Trek to Ratangadh

The Monsoon had begun. The surroundings had become cleaner and greener with the first monsoon showers. I had decided to go for a trek. Calling Sanket I asked, “Which trek are you organising this weekend?” He said, “Ratangadh night trek it is.” The Ratangadh, Jewel fort is situated near Ratan wadi overlooking the massive Bhandardhara Dam. It is a colossal fort with an elevation of 1297m. It is the part of Sahyadri range in the Western Ghats. Since it was a night trek, I had to board the nine-thirty PM Kasara local. Polishing off my dinner, waving goodbye to mom, dad and sid. I started my journey. I had to buy a torch and a ticket for boarding the train. I got on the bus that took me to the railway station.

The traffic was moving slowly as the passengers spent their time by watching movies, series on their mobile. The bus somehow found its way out of the traffic but was moving too slowly on the interior roads of Thane’ Bazaar. I had fifteen minutes to buy my ticket and a torch. I decided to get down from the bus, I started running towards the railway station which was at least a kilometer away. I kept running leaving behind many stores, but couldn’t find a store that might sell a torch. I was breathing heavily as I stood in line to buy my ticket. I had seven minutes to buy the torch and get into the train. I found a General Store near the Station, I hurried past the roadside vendors and got the torch. Now I had two minutes to reach platform five and board the train.

A Khopoli train had arrived on the platform when I entered the station. I took the bridge that took me from platform one to platform five. Then a Kalyan bound local came. I got down at platform five with people still waiting for the Kasara local. The platform was full of people. I had to get to the other end of the platform. “Next Local Kasara fast.” The announcement happened. I scurried past the passengers and found the group of fellow trekkers. “Wanderers?” I asked. They replied in affirmative. The local train was late for the journey. My fellow trekkers where students from Indian Institute of Technology, Bombay. The train was over-crowded with people spilling out of it. But a group of passengers sung Bhajans and Bhakti Geets vociferously this kept the entire compartment cheered up.

The journey was filled with friendly banter and stimulating talk. We got down at Kasara at twelve. The station was silent in the night. With a short round of introduction we set off on our sojourn. We had three jeeps waiting for us outside the station. The Thirty-two of us got ourselves in the jeeps. With a lot of stories to share, we had a gala time on our way to Ratan Wadi. We reached the base village in the dead of the night. It was drizzling persistently. It was too dark without a torch. After brief details about the trek, we started our journey up top.

Making our way through the paddy fields we walked along a stream. The sound of the flowing water shattered the silence of the night. The rain was pouring down incessantly. We kept walking in the lights of our torch. We crossed a few streams, though the current wasn’t fast the water was cold. The local folk says that the jungles of Ratanwadi inhabit leopards and several other faunae. Luckily, they chose to stay asleep while we made our ascent. The forest was dense with trees as high as eighty feet. A few trees had a large trunk, larger then I had ever seen. It was around four when the sun began to rise, mist and fog that accumulated in the canopy of many trees made the forest look much denser and deeper.

We reached the top at six thirty in the morning through the Ganesh Darwaja. The Darwaza, the door had figures of Lord Hanuman, Lord Ganesha and Goddesses Ridhi-Sidhi. The rain was incessant but it was the wild winds at the top that wreaked havoc. This part of the fort had a watch tower to keep an eye on the enemy troops. We made our way to further explore the fort. We had our breakfast in the dried up cistern. It was pot-let of sorts with everyone sharing their food and having their food together. I enjoyed the parathas brought by one of my fellow trekkers along with the crisps.
After the breakfast, we crossed the length of the fort and reached the Trimbak Darwaza after a short climb. The winds were incessant and carried the raindrops along with them. It was cold and I was shivering partly and hence kept rubbing my hands to keep them warm. We started our descend and made our way through the lichens strewn stairwell. Through the loose rocks, across the waterfall and carefully tiptoeing besides the crabs, we came back in the dense forest of Ratanwadi with many trees still under the blanket of dense fog the jungle seemed to be deep and dense. We came down around eleven thirty and had a plateful of poha and piping hot tea to satiate our hungry stomach. The trek was exhilarating as it was filled with the new experience of the unknown. I came back home with a feeling of well spent holiday and a bagful of memories.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Mountain

Siddhartha was born in the month of monsoon, in a small sleepy hamlet called Thione. He was a cute and a healthy boy born to a decent couple. The father was a craftsman and mother was teacher in the town school. They lived in their cottage by the green mountains of Thione. There universe was always peaceful and happy. Siddhartha grew up in an environment that was filled with love and care. He was an efficient learner and was quickly taking his baby steps. The first word he uttered was “Maa..” that left tears of lasting joy in his mother’s eyes. He would play for hours with his toys and would then have his lunch made by his mother. The courtyard in the house had a swing. A baby Siddhartha would swing like a pendulum sitting over it. One day his gaze fell on the green mountains behind their cottage. “Maa, what’s there in the green mountains? For how long they have been sitting there still?” He asked with an unmatched curiosity. “They have been there since a very long, long...

Two Earthen Pots

As I sit beside the balcony, I see two earthen pots one besides the other, light brown, freckled and same, but still there lies a difference none the less. There was a blossoming flower once, with its ripening petals of red, being watered daily it grew slowly, maturing into a mesmerising rose. But now in the earthen pot lies dried leaves, shrive l led petals, and lifeless roots, all turned into the dust, with one cruel swipe of death. Dancing to the tunes of wind, a sapling grows in the other earthen pot, watered with care and love, life finds its way out through the mud. Life and death is a cycle, one takes place after another, the old becomes one with the sands of time, and the new blossoms with eternity.

Why does a caged bird sing?

A bird beautiful and full of grace flies over the blue sky spreading its wings along the wind l etting it take to far away lands fly ing through the trees there is a , a sudden screech and a loud noise, trapped in the net the bird makes a failed try. Alas! Its too late for all that. Gazing past the window, the bird looks beyond the trees, sings about mountains and fields that are locked beyond. I heard the bird sing, with a melancholy in his voice, for him the freedom is so near yet so far and understood why does the caged bird sings?