In a land where it rains for 9 months in a year, even rain becomes drenched in mythology. It is believed in Kerala that at the height of summer massive birds called hornbills collect on bare treetops. They open their gigantic beaks and look longingly into the heavens praying for rains. When the intensity of their prayer becomes unbearable to the heavens, they open up. Quenching the thirst of these birds, and of every living being in Kerala.
In the oppressive heat of Malshej, I looked around for these hornbills on bare treetops. I couldn’t spot them. Somewhere unseen and unheard, in the deep innards of the forest, they must have been perched on lifeless trees praying for rains.
All the trees on the mountain slopes were denuded and formed a wide sea of brown. The only exceptions were
the laburnum and mayflower trees. Molten sunlight had collected on the branches of laburnum as golden yellow flowers. And the searing heat of May had coagulated as blood-red flowers on the mayflower trees.
As I gazed at the bare mountain ranges in front of me, I realized that every season, including the unforgiving summer, has its own charm. Since the mountains were shorn off the last tinge of green by the scorching sun, the rock faces had become nude. And I could feast my eyes on the delicate curves and contours of the mountains. Once the rains come pouring down, layers and layers of clothes would be draped on these mountains. And then you would have to wait till the next summer to appreciate their vital statistics.
The drive from Mumbai takes you to Kalyan, and a little beyond is a village called Tokavade. From here a series of wildly beautiful mountain ranges start unfolding in front of your ever-widening eyes. And this spectacle goes on for all of 90 kms. Yes, you read it right, 90 kms.
As the road first winds through the plains and then through the mountains, you see the most mystical and magical vistas of the entire Western Ghats. But sadly it’s a spectacle you can never capture in your camera. Simply because it gradually unfolds all around you in 360 degrees, like a ’surround’ spectacle. The entire mountainscape changes at every turn, and at every corner there’s a picture postcard waiting for you. Each changing angle giving you a different shape of the same mountain, in a totally different light. Since shooting was not an option, I decided to do something even better. I clicked them in my mind and stored them in the infinite hard disk of my mind, with a special instruction not to delete them till my last breath.
The climax of this visual drama is staged when the mountain suddenly plateaus at Malshej. As you drive through a roughly-hewn tunnel, you are face to face with the sheer magnificence of towering peaks and bottomless valleys. And standing at land’s very end, you gaze at what can only be described as the Grand Canyon of India, with the main difference being the faded green that’s brushed onto the brown mountain slopes. If you happen to scream in sheer joy, your voice echoes back as if in affirmation.
At Malshej the long bund of Pimpalgaon Joga holds back the waters of Pushpavati river, creating a blue-green lake that swells in monsoon. If you walk along this bund in August, you may see pink clouds descending into the lake in the distance. And that’s a sure sign of your tryst with flamingos at the next turn of the lake.
With Malshej as your base, you can drive down to Shivneri fort, 25 kms away. It was at Shivneri that the great Maratha king Shivaji was born. In a distinguished military career spanning decades, Shivaji had only one regret. Despite building and conquering over 250 forts in his lifetime, he could never conquer the fort of his birth. Paradoxically it took two generations; and his grandson eventually captured it in the 18th century. Such are the quirks of history.
As I drove back from Lenyadri to Malshej, the scorching heat played tricks on my mind. In the mirage created on the mountain road ahead, I could see rain falling upwards and waterfalls rising into the skies instead of falling into the valley. And I thought to myself that these are just my projections into the near future. Come July, these would happen in real, when massive eddie currents would sweep the entire Malshej landscape, and you would be able to witness the unbelievable sight of water at the edge of the cliff defying Newton’s Law of Gravity.
Yes, Malshej is waiting for the magical rains. And for responsible travellers who would come to Malshej and leave it like they found it. Pure and pristine.
