I started my climb but couldn’t find a grip on the black rock. Uncle’ climb was not the best example to imitate. I was trying to pull myself with my hands but the strategy was ineffective. “Use your legs, don’t use your hands,” Sanket shouted. But I couldn’t find any grip. “Walk along the rocks and lean behind,” Sanket shouted from up top. I kept one foot in the ridge and the other in another. I climbed the patch with my heart in my mouth. Slowly and steadily I climbed the rock patch.
“Go to the top don’t wait here it’s getting dark,” Sanket said. I was walking along the rock as there was a steep fall towards my left. The steps leading to the top where completely exposed, but had ropes for support. I walked finding spots to place my foot and carefully made it to the inclined ascend, I continued on the path. It was getting darker by the minute, and there was no one around. I wanted to go back. “Run away,” the phony within said. “It’s easy to run away, but it is necessary to surge.” A voice whispered. I walked in the cold of the evening and saw the campfire glow. I could see people cook food, sing songs and rest after a grueling trek.
Perched a top the cave was Pranav who called me, “Sanket, Look up top.” I went up and sat beside him. “It was thrilling, yet amazing.” He said. “I have no words to express, but some cakes to satiate the hunger,” I said. “What are you waiting for take them out,” Pranav said. We gorged on to some crisps, cakes, and sticks. We were playing with the torch and piercing the darkness. We saw Sanket coming up, I called him. “How was the feel?” He asked. “It was bone chilling,” I said. “I was scared to death, but it was fun,” Pranav said.
Getting down we settled inside the cave. The cave was big enough to accommodate sixty people. We kept our bags and went down near the water cisterns to have our food. Rohidas and Tulsidas had prepared sumptuous dinner of khichdi (A dish made out of rice) along with pickle. We polished off the khichdi as the conversation flowed from cricket, travel and shared love for trekking. The sky was full of stars and the moon had bloomed completely. The dinner tasted even better in the moon light and warmth of the camp-fire.
Coming back to the cave. I unwrapped my sleeping bag and slipped into it. The rock was hard and uninviting. I was finding my sweet spot. Pranav dozed of instantly curling in his sleeping bag. I was shifting sideways, I moved down a bit and found a comfortable place, and slept peacefully through the night. With the first rays of the sun. I got up, unwrapped my sleeping bag and went out to see the rising sun. It was a pleasant morning, the sun rose to spread its glow over the surroundings and beyond. Kushal took out his drone cam and took pictures of the mesmerizing view.
Breakfast was served near the water cisterns. It was stapled Kanda pohe, the dish was served piping hot. It tasted well in the misty morning. We quickly descended down the Madan fort. Coming down rappelling along the rock patch. I could handle this rock patch with much ease. We walked near the base of Kulang. We kept walking through the narrow path that leads to the rock cut steps. The fort was built to protect the ancient Nashik – Kalyan Route. We made to the top at twelve in the noon. There is a cave on the top and a few water cisterns. The plateau is huge and spread across the top. We explored the fort after a while’ rest.
After coming down the fort we took another route to the base village. Making our way through the dense forest. The small pathways between many trees had occasional boulders in between. Taking regular intervals to drink water and keep ourselves we rested in the shadow of the trees. We had covered sizeable distance when we reached a dried waterfall. “If you are ever stuck on a trek and cannot find your way out always follow the waterfall, it will bring you down,” Sanket told me. “I will keep that in mind,” I said.
coming down the hill we kept walking through the farms as we reached ground zero. We sat under the shade of the tree and rested there for a while as the lunch was being prepared by Rohidas and Tulsidas. It was a typical dish made in the villages of Maharashtra, Pithala and Bhaat. Pithala is a gravy made out of Besan and Bhaat is rice. Polishing off a plateful of rice I drank plenty of water. It was gratifying to have lunch under the shade of the tree after a difficult trek.
As I got up the jeeps had come to take us back to Karjat station. The jeep was making its way through narrow alleys as I dozed off in the back seat after eating the sumptuous meal. The sun was setting behind in the sky as we boarded the train bound to Mumbai. The train left the station as I was reliving the moments of the trek in my imagination. As Edmund Hilary said, “It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.” I understood the meaning of this quote better than any words could have explained.
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