Day 5 - Pachmarhi to Bhoramdeo

6.30 am. Nalini and I were on our way to Bhoramdeo, the Khajuraho of Chattisgarh. The 420 kilometre drive, under normal circumstances, takes around 8 hours or so the guidebooks and google say. In our case, it took us almost 12 hours. The drive in most parts is extremely picturesque, with a short 80 kilometres of four laned highway. The rest of it is all single carriageways, where playing chicken is the norm.

The first leg from Pachmarhi is a narrow set of twisties, extending almost 30 kilometres as it snakes its way down to thee plains. Then it's sugarcane paradise. Mile upon mile of sugarcane fields dot the landscape, with the odd sugarcane juice vendor crushing fresh cane for the thirsty wayfarers. Sugarcane gives way to mustard. A sea of yellow blossoms swaying in the wind, reeking of potential prosperity.

The surface of the roads across this segment varies from pockmarked to glassy - depending on the contractor and commissions paid. Thankfully, the landscape is beyond the control of commerce. Tree-lined roads, thick forests and the odd shimmering lake make one forget the poor quality of tarmac. Distances and time are not directly related in this state. It took us 10 hours to cover 620 km in one state and twelve hours to cover 420 km in another.

We had a late lunch at a small restaurant along the way. It was recommended to us by a local. When we asked at the petrol pump for directions to the restaurant, he casually mentioned that we must have 'seen it on google'. This just goes to show how far 'Google' has gone to become synonymous with the Internet, even in the Hindi heartland.

As we approached the Chattisgarh border, it was already dusk. The surprising fact was that it was barely 5 in the evening. Already lengthening shadows were making their eerie presence felt. This is the reality of life in the East - early sunrises and equally early sunsets.

The last leg of our journey was covered in complete darkness. 6 o clock felt more like 8, as the headlights pierced the night ahead. It took some asking to find the road that led to our destination, Bhoramdeo, The last few kilometres were on a lonely, narrow, forested stretch of road, where one almost expected goblins and trolls to pop out and block our path.

We are the only guests at the Nagori Tourist Lodge. So, we made the most of it, with an impromptu drink on the terrace, with candle light, et al. The piece de resistance was freshly caught river fish, fried and curried to perfection, served along with dinner. I guess it must have been divine providence, given that we are here to pay our respects to Lord Shiva tomorrow morning.

Day 4 - Rambling around Pachmarhi

Our last day in Pachmarhi began like most others, lazily. We began with a languorous breakfast, with curious monkeys as onlookers. Thus sated, we set out to explore Pachmarhi and its environs. Our first halt was the 150 year old Protestant Church, set amidst mildly unkempt lawns. The only piece of historical trivia that I remember is that it was built by the friends and family of an army major of the East Bengal Lancers ( or something like that), in his honour, supposedly after he passed away in the line of duty.

The Church itself, with its stony facade and exterior, stood defiant against the march of time and the blaring of gypsy horns. For us, it was an island of peace, a retreat, a park bench in paradise... And then we stepped into its hallowed confines. Alone in the church, with the resident priest, we could feel the piety of legions that must have prayed here. Today, the Sunday Services in Hindi, with Bhajans instead of hymns and a congregation one can count on one's fingers, are a far cry from the lofty choral notes that must have echoed from the naves in years gone by. Both Nalini and I needed this shot of tranquility, to steel ourselves against the chattering hordes that infested Pachmarhi.

I don't know what it is about North Indians and Paneer. I literally can't stomach it, and they can't seem to get enough of it. So, after having grown tired of requesting every hotel that I frequented not to grace my food with a Paneer like some sort of ritual blessing, and being told 'we don't do that here', I finally slipped. The one day, I forgot to warn the waiter not to place Paneer on my food, my Butter Chicken came to the table like a blushing bride, covered in a veil of ... you guessed it.... Paneer shavings. Paneer on Butter Chicken? Whatever is the world coming to? So Nalini had to devour it all, whether she wanted to or not. Henceforth, I shall be on guard, always.

Back on the tourist trail, we headed through the bazaar to 'Jata Shankar' or the 'Locks of Shankar', which is a mass of boulders that are supposed to resemble Lord Shankar's matted locks, discarded as he escaped from a demon and sought refuge in a cave. The rock formations, though interesting, by no stretch of imagination resemble a set of discarded locks. A staircase leads down to a narrow cave where he sought refuge. Like any religious spot in India, you will find the pious, the curious and the vendors, catering to both. A short spell here, a guide's spiel overhead, and I was ready to head back to ground level.

The last stop on the tourist agenda was the set of 'Pandava caves'. However, how the 5 Pandavas are connected to these 5 Buddhist Viharas is a mystery that even the Archeological Survey of India (ASI) refuse to throw light on. In fact, they steadfastly refuse to divulge anything about these monuments, as if the fate of the country hinged on it. There are 5 boards in various locations informing us that this is a protected monument and warning of dire consequences if one should transgress any of the unwritten rules of conduct in the premises or deface the already caged in viharas or write epics of love on the walls..etc., etc.

The view from the top of the caves of an alluring garden in the shape of a fish in the foreground, and the hills of Pachmarhi in the distance made the climb more worthwhile than exploration of the caves themselves. We could not resist the temptation of laying out the old picnic mat and having a cuppa as the sun set on the Pandava empire....

Back in town, we made a last ditch effort at enjoying a bit of al fresco dining. The thermometer plummeted to sub-endurance levels ( read 14 degrees), the coldest Pachmarhi has witnessed in a gazillion years. So, dining under the stars would have been a recipe for frostbite or that's what the better half thought, anyway. Dinner at China Bowl, another MP Tourism establishment, consisted steaming soup and spicy Hakka Noodles - the revenge of the one who is denied paneer in my presence, out of sheer practicality, not cussedness. How an instruction like 'put less Soya sauce' translates into 'make it fiery hot with chilly powder' escaped me, but that is precisely what happened.


I retreated to Fort Evelyn, my private bastion, licking my wounded palate, as I reached for the nearest chocolate. Thus an eventful day was brought to a close with a round of green tea, served al fresco outside our room. That evening, we packed, loaded the car and were ready to turn in, when raucous laughter put any plans of peaceful slumber to rest. The offending party, our neighbours had decided to share their salacious conversation with the rest of the household, courtesy an 'open door' policy. One that I firmly shut, with a polite request in Gujarati, and a reminder that they were not the centre of the universe. Thankfully, they got the point and the conversation subsided to a murmur, allowing us to sleep in peace...

Day 3 - Pachmarhi - Our first day of real sightseeing

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.

Bhopal - Pachmarhi - Our first real destination

Day 2 of our journey began at 7.00 am. after a spat with the management of our hotel over the fact that our geyser trickled ice cold water, instead of piping hot. The solution, use any bathroom in the hotel, as we were the only guests.

On the dot of 7, we trooped out of the hotel and headed out into the mist. Mile after mile, the highway unfolded before us through a diaphanous haze. An hour later, we stopped for breakfast at a small roadside eatery. Omelettes, parathas and steaming cups of tea fortified us for the journey ahead.


The 215 km from Bhopal to Panchmarhi is pleasant, but not memorable for any specific reason. The roads are good in most part and meander over rivers and through forests, as they snake their way steadily higher. There is a predominance of curious monkeys, both in the forests, as well as on the hilly road to Panchmarhi. Its obvious that tourists stop and feed them, despite notices requesting them not to. The moment we stopped anywhere near a monkey we were surrounded by simians, waiting for the proverbial treat.

The monkeys advanced slowly, and cautiously, with an air of expectation around them. Having experienced what a bunch of monkeys can do, if they decide to get vicious, I decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and left the monkeys to their devices.
The final leg of the journey is a winding, narrow, 22 km long single lane highway that ascends almost 800 metres, to a height of 1050 metres from the base. A driver's skill and nerves, as well as his intuition are put to the test. Cars hurtle around corners without so much as a 'peep'. We arrived in Pacmarhi around lunchtime, and ate at an MP Tourism resort - a 100 year estate now converted into a tourist home. Even today the old world charm is very much apparent.


Post lunch, we checked in to 'Evelyn's Own' - a charming homestay which will be our home for the next few days. Run by the dignified Mr. and Mrs. Rao, the homestay is straight out of a picture post-card. Warm, yet quaint, with marginally overgrown foliage, it's just the kind of place I like.

After a short nap and a cup of tea, we set out to explore the environs of the city. As the sun set over the horizon, we found ourselves by a lakeside, alone, listening to the sounds of the migratory birds settling in for the night, and in the distance...the city gearing up for an evening of commerce and consumption. Every once in a while, a jeep whizzed past, horns blaring, shattering the serenity. And then, for a few moments, it seemed as though we were in another world...

From the tranquility of our homestay to the hubbub of a bustling market, screeching horns, chattering Gujarati tourists and ambling, cows, they seemed lie two worlds apart. The Gujaratis make their presence felt through sight, sound and hard cash. They're everywhere, conversing loudly, haggling, asking the world to Ghatkoparise everything. A conversation with a tea vendor said it all. A middle aged man asked him to make strong 'Gujarati' chai, instead of the way he was used to making it - mild and sweet. The whole purpose of travel is to experience different cultures, cuisines and lifestyles - not merely to tick sights off a bucket list. Someday, I hope that they will eschew the 'been there, seen that culture' and really experience the places they visit.

Back at our little nest, we relaxed under a moonlit sky, with a cup of freshly brewed green tea and candlelight for company. It was almost ethereal. The perfect way to end a pleasant day.