Holidays have a tremendous power of healing. Mumbai summers
can be too warm to tolerate and a short trip to the mountains could certainly
give a respite to sweating souls.
This year the summer heat drove us as a family to the
Western Ghats. Mahabaleshwar, a city in the Satara district in the Indian state
of Maharashtra is a hill station with one of the few evergreen forests of
India. It has had the privilege of serving as the summer capital of Bombay
province during the British Raj. Located at an average elevation of 1,353
metres, Mahabaleshwar is a huge plateau measuring 150 km sq. bound by beautiful
valleys on all sides. It has beautiful scenic points besides the perennial
springs and streams and waterfalls with a comfortable climate year long.
I have been to this beautiful city in the mountains several
times since my childhood but this time I chose to live in the deep forests and
looked out for hotels which would give me the feel of the greenery everywhere I
looked sans the noise of human beings and their perpetual marketing desires. Not
that I do not like to shop and roam in the hilly sales areas but this time I
wished to keep them aside and far enough to reach only when desire struck me to
brush shoulders with humans. The rest of the time I wished to spend seeing four
legged and winged wild creatures.
The search for a hotel stay landed me at Hotel Gourish, a
very pleasant hotel which gave me a duplex room overlooking a simple garden on
one side at the entrance and a thick forest to contemplate on nature from the
windows. The windows gave me a better perspective than the television placed in
the room as from there I got a very enriching view of huge monkeys with real
long tails, fat red tailed squirrels and tiny sparrow like birds with multi
colours on their feathered bodies.
The news reader in the television was talking about leopards
attacking little children in the Satara District and mentioned that that was how
the canines were venturing out from the forests, seeming not to be so satisfied
with the red tailed squirrels; one of which was right in front of me jumping
from branch to branch dodging the monkeys outside my window. Every time she
would go close to a monkey, my heart would skip a beat wondering what if the monkey
scratched her but the monkeys had probably learnt tolerance and they simply
avoided her pranks as she slapped them with her bushy tail. It was only one
monkey who perhaps had less tolerance level who gave her a hard slap on her
face which may be sent across the message to her to stop fooling around with
the ones who had more strength. She went dashing away behind the thick curtain
of leaves not to emerge for quite some time. After I saw this short skit
performed by the lower species in the theater of the wild, I turned to look at
my children and smiled at a similar performance I had had the privilege of
witnessing several times at the cost of tensed emotions.
Hotel Gourish is situated very close to Old Mahabaleshwar
and the famous Shiv Linga in these mountains is just a few minutes away from
there. At every earlier visit of mine to this hill station I had made it a
point to visit this temple but this time I chose to worship The Almighty in His
natural form and observed His movements with every rustling of the leaves and
every opening of colourful petals. The entrance to my room had so much of mixed
fragrance of the earth and the colours that I had to literally take it all in
with deep breaths as if collecting it all within me. I can say that sitting there
I actually prayed without the burden of any rituals. The chair at the entrance
of the room became my asana and nature all around became my object and the
paraphernalia of worship. Without the recitation of any scripture I
communicated with my creator in the language of wordlessness. Every soul on
earth I believe has a need to reach out and Hotel Gourish helped me in its
environment to intensify my feelings and have a communication with tight lips.
I realised that a prayer in such a beautiful environment could help me stock up
on positivity to last a long time. I was sure that when I would go down the
mountains to my home at sea-level, this collection would in the midst of the
warm environment, filter its cool showers gradually filling me up with its cool
and breath taking memories.
Often in the day when the children would be dashing up and
down the duplex room shattering the silence of the place, I would sit out
having a silent communication with the foliage. In Mumbai, I would have
screamed at them telling them to shut up but here I felt no need as the silence
of the forest was louder than their screams, not permitting them to disturb my
peace.
Surprisingly the place had given us a very cold welcome
which was heart-warming. Moving out from the heat of a crowded city, we faced
lightening and heavy showers on the way to the hills. Not only was the journey
soaked in water but our car also got quite a few pelts in a hail storm. The
heat of Mumbai can be very ruffling but these showers in fact put us in a very
positive and peaceful frame of mind. They as if regenerated our melted energy
levels. They emotionally and mentally uplifted us on the uphill journey. It felt
as if nature had understood our ordeal of perspiration and was welcoming us
with cool blessings from above.
The moment we arrived at the hotel, the aroma of chicken and
paneer 65 got our hungry stomachs rumbling for taste though I failed to
understand the addition of the number 65 to these dishes which were nice and
pungent even for an Indian palate. After a meal enjoyed in the dining room we
moved on to explore the place with its tiny play area with its centre stage
tree with a ladder to climb up and rest with a book there on top. The rains had
stopped and the earth was filling up our nostrils with its mesmerising
fragrance. The garden in the centre of
the place had a lone tree with its bark covered with a climber and my children
named it the Tree of Life. It had a unique look with no brown on it but only
green.
In short the time spent was worth it all. The boat ride at the Venna Lake, the horse
riding near the lake, the hot corns and the blue berries and the strawberries
and the delicious orange carrots could never be replaced with a visit to a mall
or a film in the city. After all this,
the return journey had to have a mixture of a taste of joy and sadness to it. We
were of course a little sad that we were moving out from the green hills which
had injected us with their intoxicating freshness and at the same time glad
that we would be back home for after all home is always ‘home sweet home’.
On the return trip as we passed through the dark tunnels on
the highways a thought struck me. Every journey had to end but if we continued
to live in the hope of something better and new, we would always see light at
the end.
Ruby
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