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Tamhini
Rainy season is like a capsule of revival. Basically I like to travel, and rainy season is THE season for such activity. Since July start we had decided that we would be going out somewhere when the rains catch momentum. Considering the delayed rains, the weekend of 25-26 was finalised for an outing. First plan was to go to Mahabaleshwar, and the time when it was decided that is 2-3 weeks back, many of them were ready. As it so happened that people filtered themselves out of the plan as time passed and Mahabaleshwar plan was left like a Dark Chocolate cake for an overweight person. I and my brother finally decided to go to Tamhini instead.
For those in Pune, must already know, Tamhini is a mountain road just around 70-75 kms from Pune city. In monsoons the Ghat-as we call it here in Marathi and Hindi-is bursting with waterfalls like a coniferous tree with candles in Christmas. Just as you bid farewell to city traffic and dark clouds of CO in Chandani Chawk area, you are pleased with shades of green on the outskirts of the city. Though the real main course of Tamhini is yet to be served the starters are sure to fill your mind with expectation and desire for more. Tamhini Ghat is one of the numerous roads that connect the western coastline of Kokan with the rest of the Maharashtra. This descent through paradise starts at Pune and ends in Mangaon.
This is how it all started. I was willing to go there on bike. We set ourselves on the 153cc metal beast by Yamaha, and started the journey at around 0830 in the morning. My brother had been to Tamhini quite a number or times so we had advantage of his experience. This is one road among the Sahyadris. As the north India is bestowed by the valley of flowers and serene beauty of the White Himalayan ranges, we have plush green meadows and roaring waterfalls in the Sahyadris. The first turn at the start of the Pirangut Ghat is like a paradigm shift. The layered presence of the mountain ranges give you a fair idea of what is about to come. We didn’t have our breakfast so; at that point we stopped and had a Corn with lemon on it. Standing on an edge of the cliff, in a drizzling rain, munching a tasty crunchy corn, looking down the valley surrounded by endless milky waterfalls, like white veins on the green body of nature is mesmerising.
We finished our Bhuttas and went ahead. Tamhini being a mountain road is blossoming in monsoons. We have a huge mountain at our left and a seeming sea of a backwater of the Mulshi dam on our right. At that moment the rain gods were at leisure. We came across our first waterfall among the three we visited that day. A couple of tourist buses, a few cars and many bikes welcomed us there; ‘Oh, I fear another Bhushi Dam’ is what I said.
As expected there were bunch of people enjoying themselves with their families at the bottom end of the waterfall. It was obvious that it’s not always possible for every member of the family to go ahead and climb through the waterfall. We feeling like exiles of civilisation started the ascent towards the birth of the Milky Way. We went through the resisting knee deep water for half a kilometre ahead and saw the treat of Mother Nature. We never actually noticed its beauty for the dripping leaves and branches of the trees were hindering our sight. We came close to it, raised our heads, saw just before us; A humbling jet of white ecstasy pouring down a 15 feet high cliff. We entered the little pond made by remarkable force of the pouring water. At around waist deep height, we could not dare to go ahead. Trying to defy the astounding force of the water was blasphemous. We so wished to go and stand below it at least for a second, but then fear soon overpowered the spirit of adventure. We removed our rain jackets, or whatever was left of them, and entered the pond again, betting each other over looking directly in the centre where water was landing.
That force was amazing. Though we had betted about looking directly in it, from a short distance, we could hardly manage it. The water was hitting our faces like whiplash. So saluting the force, humbled we went a little farther from the point of impact and stayed there in the water. The rain was still a drizzle, and we decided to head back, it was just a start and we had much more surprises waiting for us. Coming down was even more amusing. No offence but we commented a lot on people who were fooling around water streams of 2-3 feet and ankle deep water. We were going to see much of them in whole journey.
We came down, and came across a small child asking us, for KandaBhaji and tea. We could not resist it; we placed an order and waited outside. KandaBhaji, hot Tea and rains is an inseparable trio. When you have any one of it, you wish for the rest of the group. That was the point when we realised that we had to ride a bike, we are wet tip to toe, jackets were just storage for wallets and cell phones, and we were feeling cold. Rain gods feeling amusement in our misery put on some heavy duty machinery at work up there. Shivering in cold we set off on the beloved Yamaha again.
Next stop was a secluded one. I don’t think many people would have noticed it, before. It didn’t have the awesome might to offer like the former, but it had every possible shade of green around it. Stones covered in 2cm thick moss, several streams of water sparkling down the stones with green edges. A huge green tree trunk fallen across the banks, and water rushing below, A moderate rain with presence of sunshine, creating a fabulous looking little rainbow over a streams of water, Thick leaves dripping on our forehead when we tried to see the sun through the entangled branches of the forest. This is the moment. There is no past to it, no future. Time freezes you in the landscape; your brain turns numb, involuntarily surrendering its meagre capabilities of thinking. I sit there on moss covered stone, uncontaminated bubbling water brushing my ankles. I feel like I have been through a time gate. I submit to the enviable world of Tarzan. We both sit there, silent, fearful of disturbing the tranquility.
I don’t actually remember how much time we passed there. As I remember a car went passed this spot with loud music turned on with some Punjabi singer singing. Disturbed and agitated, we came back to our senses. As we came out, we came across another small group going in for the time portal.
The road was mounting a little now. We had already left one frame of reality; we were now flipping another page in the book. I have been to Northern ranges. I have seen the clouds there as well. But to see and experience monsoon, you have to come here. The next as we know we could see a vast lake of Mulshi and a distributed spectrum of light and darkness over it, a few sunlit patches over the water, and a few shadowed sections under the rain clouds. A few turns ahead we could actually see what they teach you in school classrooms. ‘Rain comes down the clouds’ It is a sight to cherish how the dark cloud floats over the lake, covering the sunlit areas with its own shadow, pouring water on it. The changing pattern of calm water surfaces into ripples of droplets its worthy of reminiscence.
As we went ahead, we felt full. In a small corner of our hearts, we still felt the hunger for more. It was not that late to return as so we thought, none of us had a watch and it is too risky to take out the cell phone when your fingers are dripping. So we decided to go a little further. We came across a couple of cars photographing the sight of two waterfalls side by side. The waterfalls were looking as if they are coming down from the heavens, the top of the mountains was already invisible behind the thick curtain of dusky clouds, and the pouring water was only sign that something was up there. Felt like there must be a reservoir up the mountain where these clouds store the water and return for refuelling. We smiled at the thought and went ahead. That’s just when my brother exclaimed, why not we go and see that reservoir. We were so uphill now that we felt; a jump would touch the cloud above us. Already on a high, I accepted his idea; and we turned around and parked our bike.
This was a little more adventurous. Something our parents would have forbidden us to venture. It was something around a 60 degree ascent write through the waterfall, with water falling on our bodies. I am wearing floaters and he a pair of worn out flat soled shoes. At the end that didn’t prove that risky though. We went up, for a while it was okay. After halfway of the visible section we came to a dead-end. We could see a 90 degree rise ahead, and no other alternative route there. So we threw ourselves in the water and sat there under a 10-12 feet high waterfall. We tuned around and we could see the road, the cars had left and my faithful Yamaha FZ was standing steady in the downpour. We must have spent much time there. Slowly the rain showed signs of turning into a deluge and we returned from that spot.
As I remember we were just 17 kms from Mangaon then. By the time we came back to my bike again, it was already raining heavily. Actually speaking the clouds had descended so low that in spite of our headlight, we could hardly see 2-3 feet ahead. What started later was cloudburst. What we were experiencing was water directly out of cloud. Those huge water droplets were slicing us like a Katana would cut an apple. We had to stop the plan of going ahead and having a Misal at Mangaon, we were forced to return. We came across a signboard saying we were already 85 kms from Pune, and we both were like ‘What!!!’
The return took us less time after the rain stopped; we could manage to go above 50kmph after coming close to Pune. By the time we were home it was around 1930 on the clock. I remember the surprised reaction of my cousin sister. Hair messed up, bloodshot eyes, worthless condition of cloths, darkened face; anyone would have mistaken us for alcoholic.
Now that I have completed this write-up, I have already been there mentally, reliving those moments of bliss. I can still vividly remember the magnificence of Sahyadris. I left that day, only on a mutual agreement. I assured him of coming again, with an elated soul, and he assured me, he would keep his end of bargain, he will allow me to enter the pearly gates of heaven yet again, welcome me with showers of satiation…
For those in Pune, must already know, Tamhini is a mountain road just around 70-75 kms from Pune city. In monsoons the Ghat-as we call it here in Marathi and Hindi-is bursting with waterfalls like a coniferous tree with candles in Christmas. Just as you bid farewell to city traffic and dark clouds of CO in Chandani Chawk area, you are pleased with shades of green on the outskirts of the city. Though the real main course of Tamhini is yet to be served the starters are sure to fill your mind with expectation and desire for more. Tamhini Ghat is one of the numerous roads that connect the western coastline of Kokan with the rest of the Maharashtra. This descent through paradise starts at Pune and ends in Mangaon.
This is how it all started. I was willing to go there on bike. We set ourselves on the 153cc metal beast by Yamaha, and started the journey at around 0830 in the morning. My brother had been to Tamhini quite a number or times so we had advantage of his experience. This is one road among the Sahyadris. As the north India is bestowed by the valley of flowers and serene beauty of the White Himalayan ranges, we have plush green meadows and roaring waterfalls in the Sahyadris. The first turn at the start of the Pirangut Ghat is like a paradigm shift. The layered presence of the mountain ranges give you a fair idea of what is about to come. We didn’t have our breakfast so; at that point we stopped and had a Corn with lemon on it. Standing on an edge of the cliff, in a drizzling rain, munching a tasty crunchy corn, looking down the valley surrounded by endless milky waterfalls, like white veins on the green body of nature is mesmerising.
We finished our Bhuttas and went ahead. Tamhini being a mountain road is blossoming in monsoons. We have a huge mountain at our left and a seeming sea of a backwater of the Mulshi dam on our right. At that moment the rain gods were at leisure. We came across our first waterfall among the three we visited that day. A couple of tourist buses, a few cars and many bikes welcomed us there; ‘Oh, I fear another Bhushi Dam’ is what I said.
As expected there were bunch of people enjoying themselves with their families at the bottom end of the waterfall. It was obvious that it’s not always possible for every member of the family to go ahead and climb through the waterfall. We feeling like exiles of civilisation started the ascent towards the birth of the Milky Way. We went through the resisting knee deep water for half a kilometre ahead and saw the treat of Mother Nature. We never actually noticed its beauty for the dripping leaves and branches of the trees were hindering our sight. We came close to it, raised our heads, saw just before us; A humbling jet of white ecstasy pouring down a 15 feet high cliff. We entered the little pond made by remarkable force of the pouring water. At around waist deep height, we could not dare to go ahead. Trying to defy the astounding force of the water was blasphemous. We so wished to go and stand below it at least for a second, but then fear soon overpowered the spirit of adventure. We removed our rain jackets, or whatever was left of them, and entered the pond again, betting each other over looking directly in the centre where water was landing.
That force was amazing. Though we had betted about looking directly in it, from a short distance, we could hardly manage it. The water was hitting our faces like whiplash. So saluting the force, humbled we went a little farther from the point of impact and stayed there in the water. The rain was still a drizzle, and we decided to head back, it was just a start and we had much more surprises waiting for us. Coming down was even more amusing. No offence but we commented a lot on people who were fooling around water streams of 2-3 feet and ankle deep water. We were going to see much of them in whole journey.
We came down, and came across a small child asking us, for KandaBhaji and tea. We could not resist it; we placed an order and waited outside. KandaBhaji, hot Tea and rains is an inseparable trio. When you have any one of it, you wish for the rest of the group. That was the point when we realised that we had to ride a bike, we are wet tip to toe, jackets were just storage for wallets and cell phones, and we were feeling cold. Rain gods feeling amusement in our misery put on some heavy duty machinery at work up there. Shivering in cold we set off on the beloved Yamaha again.
Next stop was a secluded one. I don’t think many people would have noticed it, before. It didn’t have the awesome might to offer like the former, but it had every possible shade of green around it. Stones covered in 2cm thick moss, several streams of water sparkling down the stones with green edges. A huge green tree trunk fallen across the banks, and water rushing below, A moderate rain with presence of sunshine, creating a fabulous looking little rainbow over a streams of water, Thick leaves dripping on our forehead when we tried to see the sun through the entangled branches of the forest. This is the moment. There is no past to it, no future. Time freezes you in the landscape; your brain turns numb, involuntarily surrendering its meagre capabilities of thinking. I sit there on moss covered stone, uncontaminated bubbling water brushing my ankles. I feel like I have been through a time gate. I submit to the enviable world of Tarzan. We both sit there, silent, fearful of disturbing the tranquility.
I don’t actually remember how much time we passed there. As I remember a car went passed this spot with loud music turned on with some Punjabi singer singing. Disturbed and agitated, we came back to our senses. As we came out, we came across another small group going in for the time portal.
The road was mounting a little now. We had already left one frame of reality; we were now flipping another page in the book. I have been to Northern ranges. I have seen the clouds there as well. But to see and experience monsoon, you have to come here. The next as we know we could see a vast lake of Mulshi and a distributed spectrum of light and darkness over it, a few sunlit patches over the water, and a few shadowed sections under the rain clouds. A few turns ahead we could actually see what they teach you in school classrooms. ‘Rain comes down the clouds’ It is a sight to cherish how the dark cloud floats over the lake, covering the sunlit areas with its own shadow, pouring water on it. The changing pattern of calm water surfaces into ripples of droplets its worthy of reminiscence.
As we went ahead, we felt full. In a small corner of our hearts, we still felt the hunger for more. It was not that late to return as so we thought, none of us had a watch and it is too risky to take out the cell phone when your fingers are dripping. So we decided to go a little further. We came across a couple of cars photographing the sight of two waterfalls side by side. The waterfalls were looking as if they are coming down from the heavens, the top of the mountains was already invisible behind the thick curtain of dusky clouds, and the pouring water was only sign that something was up there. Felt like there must be a reservoir up the mountain where these clouds store the water and return for refuelling. We smiled at the thought and went ahead. That’s just when my brother exclaimed, why not we go and see that reservoir. We were so uphill now that we felt; a jump would touch the cloud above us. Already on a high, I accepted his idea; and we turned around and parked our bike.
This was a little more adventurous. Something our parents would have forbidden us to venture. It was something around a 60 degree ascent write through the waterfall, with water falling on our bodies. I am wearing floaters and he a pair of worn out flat soled shoes. At the end that didn’t prove that risky though. We went up, for a while it was okay. After halfway of the visible section we came to a dead-end. We could see a 90 degree rise ahead, and no other alternative route there. So we threw ourselves in the water and sat there under a 10-12 feet high waterfall. We tuned around and we could see the road, the cars had left and my faithful Yamaha FZ was standing steady in the downpour. We must have spent much time there. Slowly the rain showed signs of turning into a deluge and we returned from that spot.
As I remember we were just 17 kms from Mangaon then. By the time we came back to my bike again, it was already raining heavily. Actually speaking the clouds had descended so low that in spite of our headlight, we could hardly see 2-3 feet ahead. What started later was cloudburst. What we were experiencing was water directly out of cloud. Those huge water droplets were slicing us like a Katana would cut an apple. We had to stop the plan of going ahead and having a Misal at Mangaon, we were forced to return. We came across a signboard saying we were already 85 kms from Pune, and we both were like ‘What!!!’
The return took us less time after the rain stopped; we could manage to go above 50kmph after coming close to Pune. By the time we were home it was around 1930 on the clock. I remember the surprised reaction of my cousin sister. Hair messed up, bloodshot eyes, worthless condition of cloths, darkened face; anyone would have mistaken us for alcoholic.
Now that I have completed this write-up, I have already been there mentally, reliving those moments of bliss. I can still vividly remember the magnificence of Sahyadris. I left that day, only on a mutual agreement. I assured him of coming again, with an elated soul, and he assured me, he would keep his end of bargain, he will allow me to enter the pearly gates of heaven yet again, welcome me with showers of satiation…
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