This was a no-alarm, no agenda day. Well after sunrise, close to 8 am, we extricated ourselves from beneath our cozy quilts and decided to take explore Pachmarhi at will. Over the next few hours, we lazed around outside our room, chatting with our host, Mr. Rao, as story after story of life in the army and school life with the who's who of industry poured out. Followed by anecdotes about guests at Evelyn's own and possible plans for the day.
It was almost noon by the time we left our homestay and headed for one of the 'points' at Pachmarhi. A kilometre or so down the road, we followed a retinue of vehicles down an unmarked mud road, till we reached the base of the small climb to 'Handi Kho' - a narrow gorge with a 2000 foot drop. The scene at the viewpoint reminded me of a few lines from a poem that I had written about the Elphinstone College library - " Abandon all hope, ye who enter here, for herein doth silence meet its doom'
The viewpoint area better resembled a fairground, with pony rides and vendors of all hues, hawking their wares. From catapults to coffee and roasted gram, and some games of skill like hitting suspended bottles with a catapult, every diversion was on offer, save the one that most people were really there for... a few minutes of tranquility, as one gazed on nature's wonders.
From this melee, we beat a hasty retreat and drove towards the relatively lesser frequented 'Forsyth Point' or 'Priyadarshini' point - the spot after which Pachmadhi or 'five ranges' is named. Even today, once can see the five ranges that Captain Forsyth did, over a century ago, when he founded this little hamlet.
Thankfully, there were no pony rides or other such distractions at this point. A couple of sour berry 'bor' and gram vendors did brisk business, as kids scampered about making their demands. Selfie sticks and wannabe models made for interesting viewing, along with the glorious vista ahead. We relaxed with a self-made cup of coffee and some 'theplas' under the shade of a tree... soaking in the peace and the view.
I don't know what it is about Indians as a whole and large groups of travellers in particular, who think nothing of desecrating even the quietest spots with commercial and vocal debris, leaving it behind in their wake. They come seeking beauty and peace and shatter it the moment they arrive. It was a good twenty minutes after which the hordes receded, leaving us to our reverie.
Thus sated, physically and metaphorically speaking, we drove on to the 'Mahadev' caves. These caves date back to the legend of the Lord Shankar, as he escaped pursuit from a demon. The caves and temple represent spots where he hid or fought with the demon. The 'Gupt Mahadev' cave is a narrow fissure in the rock which leads to a tiny cave, barely large enough for a few people to stand. Only 8 persons are allowed into this claustrophobic space at a time, sidling sideways as they reach the cave, pay their respects to the small deity within, and leave an offering with the priest sitting there.
Across the parking lot lay the temple of 'Bada Mahdev'. A cavernous structure, with water dripping through the rocks above onto the pilgrims below. One is expected to circumambulate a small reservoir in the middle of the cave, pausing at the shrine of Shankar, pay obeisance and carry on out of the cave. The structure is such that you are forced to bend inwards to avoid hitting your head on the rocks, both as a practical measure as well as a mark of respect to the presiding deity.
I had an incredible feeling of deja vu, as childhood memories of this spot came flooding back. I had seen this cave over forty years ago, and carried the image with me, but forgotten the location. Today, that mystery was solved.
As dusk fell, we drove back to town and spent a pleasant evening devouring steaming pakoras and tea on the lawns of the MP Tourism Resort, Glen View. We were the only souls on the lawns, a special privilege granted, as they set up the area for a party in the evening. An hour later, we were ensconced in the living room of our host, having a drink and sharing pleasant banter. Mr.and Mrs. Rao are a wonderful couple. He is a dapper 76 and hided his age well. She is timelessness incarnate - a trait I have seen in many army wives. Another round of piping hot pakoras, home made this time, helped the alcohol go down quicker. Not to mention the fact that our hosts had a dinner invitation and had to leave at 20;00 hrs - army time!
As city dwellers, we crave the open spaces and al fresco dining. So, any promise of that must be explored. Thus, we found ourselves at Rock End Manor, another wonderful MP Tourism property. Here too, despite a full house, and no al a carte, the management graciously allowed us to dine on the verandah, with a caveat that we could only choose dishes from the buffet. The ambience won over the choice of food, which was delicious to say the least. One waiter was assigned to us and it felt as though we had the hotel to ourselves...
The warmth of the chicken and hot rotis, coupled with a view of open fields and a nip in the air completed the spell. Then came the shock. Their credit card machine was out of operation. The next few minutes saw us rummaging among a plethora of folded bills and bill folds, extracting cash from each, until we had enough to pay for our dinner. The alternative would have been to leave Nalini as hostage, while I drove down to the nearest ATM to withdraw cash. Thankfully, it did not come to that.
The day ended with our de reigeur candlelight and green tea session outside our room. A wind down moment, before we hit the sack.
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