Of mysterious pools and deep ravines - Nagala

The Fog made its alluring entry almost like it was in alliance with the forest to put on a performance for all who inhabited the land. Perfect entry from the South, majestic display with background score provided by the birds, gradual fading away into the North. It was the day before Pongal, a day where Bhogi is celebrated. That meant pollution and A LOT of it. The smog did provide for some great scenery though.

It was 7 in the morning and the sun had just risen. I was making my way to my usual breakfast point; what used to be a straw hut but now made of concrete (courtesy, development), with thin wooden sticks running around the perimeter for fencing. A lively couple once used to live here with their two daughters, four cows, and few chickens. The husband passed away a couple of years ago, just after they had sold their cows, so the mother sent the kids off to boarding school and completed the construction of the house. She still makes food for trekkers though.

 

A waft of steam and smoke rose from the pot on the wood-fired chulha to blend in discreetly with the fog. The food was ready. Five dosas with a dollop of home-style, spicy red chutney, and I was about as satiated as a gluttonous pig. No other trekkers were to be seen passing through the house on the dirt road outside. It was going to be a noiseless trek.

Wood fired Chulha

Dosa with 'kaaram'

Start point at the dam

Magic pool

I started at around 8, went to the last pool, known as dead-end pool, had a blissful swim there, and then proceeded to my lunch point which was the Magic pool. I had plenty of time here to myself and thankfully no other groups (or drunkards) came along to disturb the peace. It was just me and a stray dog who had tagged along with me right from the village. It was exceedingly meditative and peaceful; I could hear the sound of the wind, birds, swaying branches, ruffling of leaves, monkeys screeching on the opposite hill, and even the scurrying of insects, all in the hot midday sun. I love getting a good tan on treks which also help with increasing my vitamin D levels, something that is practically impossible to obtain in our sheltered, immunized and excessively sanitized concrete jungles. After an hour of blissful meditation and another of lounging in the pool, I decided that it was time to depart for home.

my room at the billion star hotel which I took for Saturday night

Jagged rocks and vastness - dead end pool

water flow pattern

Somehow, it wasn't my trek that was eventful but the return journey that was a spectacle of sorts. I got back to the main road at around 4, hailed a share auto, and started for the bus stand at Nagalapuram. There are three characters who will now present themselves in a sequence as the journey progresses.  The first one was a drunk haggler who wouldn't get off the rickshaw no matter how much the driver pleaded and threatened him. This back and forth thing between them went on for more than 15 minutes. Finally, the driver lost it at one of the stops, got up from his seat and was about to drag the haggler out, when he instantly decided to get up on his own and starting mouthing foul language, while moving away in the opposite direction.

Next came a drunkard who sat right beside me and just wouldn't stop talking, no matter how much the other passengers asked him to. He was blabbering complete rubbish, nonstop. This too went on for another 20 minutes. He was as thin as a stick and seemed to be in his 60s. Finally, he too got off at his stop. Next came a lady who was a complete consolation and contrast to the first two whackos. The infant she was carrying felt the need for his/her mother's milk and she immediately started feeding him in the rickety auto, and no one batted an eye. That's how it should be. No mother should have to think twice before feeding her hungry infant anywhere. How often does one see this happening in a city?

I cannot even start to describe how liberating and wonderful it feels to be silent and still your mind for an entire day to just observe everything happening in front of you while transiting from city to village to forest and back. Without saying a single word, just the basic pleasantries at the usual joints where I get food from in the village, and at transport points. I eagerly look forward to many such treks where I can be totally at one with nature.