Today, we woke up at 4.30 am and were out of the resort by 6.30. I left the windows down to enjoy the nippy morning breeze, as Nalini protested, bundled up like an eskimo in the passenger seat. By 7.30 am, we having breakfast at a major junction, around 18 km from the entrance to Kanger national park. Steaming hot puris, vegetable and tea, all served with a smile. Women travelling in this region, especially those with weak bladders, will often find it difficult to find a clean loo. It's either a petrol pump or a large dhaba that can come to their rescue. And even there, the sanitation levels are best left undescribed. Nalini had to make do with whatever facilities were available wherever we stopped, and as a last resort, commune with nature in the wild, whenever the occasion or her bladder demanded.
We entered Kanger National Park around 9 am and paid the entry fees at the gate. One good policy the park has adopted is to provide a guide for the caves within, at an all -inclusive price along with the entry fees. We drove around 5 km inside the forest, on a dappled trail, dotted with muddy speed breakers, until we picked up our guide and drove on to the base of the Kumteshwar caves, another 5 kilometres away.
The entry to the Kumteshwar caves is through a narrow crack in the rock surface. One has to literally crawl down a narrow staircase to reach a large, cavernous cave almost 330 metres in length. Nalini stayed out due to a fear of getting stuck and an aversion to confined, narrow, dark spaces. She is also extremely uncomfortable on uneven surfaces, and hence her abstinence in this case proved to be rather prudent.
Over the next hour, the guide and his powerful torch threw light on a subterranean wonder world filled with stalagmites and stalactites, formed over thousands of years. In one corner, an image of a tiger had been formed naturally on the rock face. Beautiful pillars, unfinished chandeliers, a combination of water and rock that had created its very own art gallery, away from prying eyes.
In another corner, a tiny pool of water was home to a shy crab and a couple of fish. It is a common myth that these fish are 'blind' and do not have eyes. The truth is that they have grown so used to the dark, that their eyes have become unaccustomed to any form of light, and hence, are blinded in daylight or torchlight. Although we were almost 80 meters below ground level, thee humidity and temperature of the cave was rather high, drenching me in sweat. The beauty and serenity of the cave was shattered by a large group of tourists who thought of this as nothing more than an underground picnic. That was our cue to head back.
Never have I been happier to see daylight. Back at the parking lot, we picked up a few fresh fruits from the local villagers and headed off to see 'Kanger Dhara' the lesser known waterfall in the sanctuary. The road to the waterfall is marked by a small sign at a fork in the forest and can be easily missed, if you are not looking for it. We were looking for it, simply because we hoped that it would be free of the hubbub that it's bigger brother, the Teerthdhara Falls promised.
I was armed with a picnic kit and mat, Nalini with a trusty stick found along the way. We made our way down to a stream, just before the fall drops gently into a pool below. There by the steam, we had a pleasant British Picnic. Muffins, Jam and Cheese sandwiches, freshly brewed coffee and a few fresh fruits. An hour passed at this idyllic spot uninterrupted, until the inevitable happened. A score of envious eyes accompanied by equally raucous voices chanced upon our enchanted garden. Thankfully, the interruption was brief and we went back to the business of doing absolutely nothing at all.
Thus did we move on to pay our obeisance at the last touristy outpost of our journey, Teerthdhara Falls. This is a popular picnic spot, around 5 kilometres from the forest gate, within the Kanger Valley National Park. Our first brush with private commerce was a 20 Rupee charge for parking, manned by the local tribals. Parking fees in a forest??? This was a taste of things to come. The next shock was a 200 meter stretch of shops selling everything from pakoras to pepsi.
While Nalini lumbered down tentatively, trusty stick in hand, I scampered down 300 odd steps to find an almost deserted pool, where the waterfall finally culminated. On my way, I skirted locals carrying cartons of snacks in search of the perfect picnic spot that could be sullied instantly. At the base, I stripped down to my nylon shorts and gingerly edged to a spot on a ledge behind the waterfall. Here I enjoyed 5 or 10 minutes of tranquillity and energy.
Bathed by the chilling spray of the waterfall, it felt like the perfect end to a lovely holiday. It was everything that Chattisgarh had never promised to be. Relaxing and energising at the same time. For a few brief moments, I felt like a king, in my own private, natural kingdom. The milling crowds at the upper levels of the falls were a distant memory.... until they started trickling down the steps, like water down a mossy rockface, one droplet at a time. Before I knew it, the Kingdom of Cyriana was taken over by vulgar. tittering hordes and the king had to retreat into exile.
As I dried myself and reached for my regal robes, laid before me upon a rock, a sudden movement aught my eye, and I spied a small, but possibly deadly snake slithering away. Just a reminder that even a king can be laid low by a sharp pair of fangs. Moreover, it reminded me that this was their turf and I a mere visitor who was tolerated. Thus, paying my respects to the forces of nature did I retreat to the crass commercial world that existed 300 steps away.
Back among the human race, I had no option but to succumb to the aroma of hot bhajjiyas and a steaming cup of tea. Tomorrow, we will be headed back to Mumbai, all of 1300 kilometres and a million lifetimes away. So, today, we sup like kings at the restaurant that shall not be named.
Someday, I would like to meet the copywriter who came up with the tagline 'full of surprises' and the brave client who agreed to use it. In the quest to come up with fancy lines, and prove their worth, copywriters, are often forced to come up with fancy, esoteric lines that need an instruction manual to decipher their true meaning. This is a state that lives upto its tagline and vice versa. It's simple and honest, without any of the fripperies of a Madison Avenue or Upper Worli line - just like the people of the state. God bless them all.
May the state and it's people never fall pray to the vagaries of tourism, tourists and their whims. And may the travellers who venture here appreciate the state for what it is, and not what they would like it to be. I do hope that I never see 'Dhokla' on the menu in Chattisgarh.
The day that happens, the Ghatkoparisation of the world will be complete.
