Tempest

Outside, a storm brews.

.

Gusts of wind blown across the Arabian Sea strike land,
Channeled by the geography of the Western Ghats,
Into nooks and crannies of the Sahyadri range,

Leaving no place for petty civilization to run or hide
Save for hutments of stone and lowly earth.

.

Like the Gods themselves blowing with all their might,
The gale brings forth rain and hail,
Freezing every living being to the bone.

.

Bhosegaon, off Panchgani, is one such nook.

Perennially engulfed in fog by the clouds funneled in,
With trees bent backward shorne of leaves, thrashing wildly about,

Buffeted by the very nature that created them,
Tugging at their roots, begging to be set free.

....

Inside, calm prevails.

.

Quietly curled up in woolens and warm blankets,
They stare at the grayness through the glass, eyes wide in wonder.

How two points in space, separated only by a few inches of wall,
Can have such different fates.

.

As branches snap and disappear into the distance,
And howling winds search for the elusive gap between door and frame, whistling their way in,

They huddle around a bowl of warm steaming Maggi,
Lost within themselves, enjoying the small pleasures of life.

Like a day spent lazing around, indoors,
Waiting, for a storm to pass...

....

Panchgani, Dist. - Satara, MH
19.09.16

...

Panchgani is a famous hill station in the Satara district of Maharashtra, approximately 285 km (or six hours drive) from Mumbai and 100 km (or two hours drive) from Pune. 

Situated at an elevation of 4,200 ft and named after five villages in its vicinity, it is a popular weekend destination due to its cooler climate in the monsoon months of June to September, and winter months of November to February. 

It is easily accessible by car or cab, and is also well serviced by popular luxury bus lines as well as state transport buses. Accommodation options include numerous hotels, resorts and home-stays. 

Tip: It is advisable to make reservations a couple of weeks to a month in advance, if travelling on popular weekends of the monsoon or winter season. Some facilities may be sold out.

Tip: Panchgani is an ideal location for the weekend, given the weather, view and the number of hotels, if you plan to run the Satara Hill Half Marathon, held every year mid-September at Satara city, 45 km away. Most facilities at Satara and Kaas Valley will be sold out on this weekend. It takes an hour and fifteen minutes to drive down to the Start/Finish line for the marathon.

We were at Exotic Homestay - Panchgani, off the Panchgani - Mahabaleshwar road, situated above Dhom Lake. The delightful caretaker family drummed up delicious Maharashtrian meals and made our trip truly memorable.

Dreams (Part 2)

This is Part 2, a continuation of a two part post, titled 'Dreams'
You can find Part 1 here.

----

He wipes the rain from his eyes, and looks again across the road,
Trying to ascertain if it is her, through the maddening squall.
The wind buffets her hair and skirt. Still she stands.. unmoved, unreal.

A sudden breeze cuts through him, chilling him to the bone.
That one moment of indecision, with the umbrella closed and the door ajar.
Jumping in quickly, he slams the door, and curses
To have led himself to believe, for even a moment. That it was her.

All sound is cut off. The silence presses in on his ears.
From the cacophony outside, to a world of vacuum.
The only sound is of his breath.
Water seeps off his hair and clothes, onto the seat.

He sits there forlorn, his hands on the wheel,
Staring blankly at the odd shapes ahead through the rain swept windscreen.
The memories come rushing back. Happy thoughts. Sad thoughts.

Is it really such a remote possibility, her being here. Isn't she a thousand leagues away.
Is he a fool, to harbor such feelings, and continue this train of thought.
After trying so hard, since that fateful day. To erase. To forget.

"What if it is, though..?", a small voice asks.
"Would you take that chance..? Would you drive away..?"
The voice gathers strength. The voice is now a roar.
All around him, in this small closed space.

Almost afraid to look, he sneaks a glance out the window across the road.
Afraid that isn't her. Afraid that it is.
But she's gone. Disappeared into thin air.
He looks again at the spot, wiping his breath off the window, squinting through the glass.

"Isn't this the life changing moment you've been waiting for all along?"
The voice makes a very good point.

He grabs his keys and umbrella, falling over himself in his rush to exit the car.
Back outside, in the thundering tumult of rain, wind and chaos,
He looks frantically across the road, in both directions.
Almost willing the Gods to part the white and grey sheet around him,
Just enough to see that faint silhouette.

He doesn't bother about checking oncoming traffic as he runs to the other side.
Such things are too trivial now.

He reaches the spot she was at. Breathing heavily, almost panting.
The excitement, the happiness, the prospect of seeing her again,
Evaporates slowly. Reality sinks in.
What is this cruel game the Gods play.

She remains a dream.
Like the elusive wisps of smoke from an extinguished candle.
Like the joyful bubbles in the wind you tried to catch as a child. But never did.
Like the grains of loose sand in a tightly closed fist.

She remains a dream. Nothing more.

Dreams (Part 1)

He exits the house, glancing up at the heavens.
The sky.. cruel, grey and unforgiving.
A typical monsoon day, cold and pouring wet.
Its been like this since that fateful day, when the rain first came.
A day he wishes he could forget.

Huddled underneath an umbrella, he protects his bag,
Quickly covering the short distance to the car on the street.
Careful to avoid the puddles, and not let too much water into his shoes.
He thinks about the puddle in his life he din't see coming.

The rain thunders into his umbrella, a roar blanketing all other sounds around him.
Like a waterfall in the forest, close by, but hidden behind the foliage.
Millions of gallons crashing down. Loud, but not visible.
Underneath the umbrella, he is a small lonely island. Dry, as of now.

As he walks, his mind is deep in thought.
The day ahead. The week to come.
His to-do list straining against its reigns.
All these events, such a regular part of corporate life, seem minuscule now.

The road is deserted.
Strange, for what should be a busy weekday morning.
Maybe some offices are already closed, due to the rain.

He has no such excuse.
He reaches his car, quickly opens the door and shoves his bag inside.
Crossing over to the driver's side, he shuts his umbrella and throws it in.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone across the road.

A familiar figure, almost a silhouette dressed all in black, standing perfectly still underneath her umbrella.
Looking right at him.

He pauses, the door ajar, one foot inside.
His pulse quickens, his heart is racing. It can't be her...!

He wipes the rain from his eyes, and looks again across the road,
Trying to ascertain if it is, through the maddening squall.
The wind buffets her hair and skirt. Still she stands.. unmoved, unreal.

----

This is Part 1, of a two part post titled 'Dreams'
You can continue reading Part 2 here.

Pain

He sits alone, and stares into nothingness.

Perched on the very tip of a rocky cliff.
A cliff which extends away into the horizon on both sides, its jagged edges cutting into his heart.
A cliff which drops away vertically into the crashing waves of the ocean far below.
So far below, their sound does not reach him.

The sky is drab and grey, reflecting his thoughts.
The water is dark, as far as the eye can see.
No seagulls caw. No wind blows. The air is still.
Life itself, has come to a grinding halt.
There is silence all around. The sound of sadness.

Tears well up in his eyes.
The weather Gods bend the knee in reverence.
Dark clouds roll in.

He sits alone, and stares into nothingness.

Joy has been sucked out of his life, a huge gaping hole for grief to fill.
The loss so sudden, he is left speechless.
A major part of his life, his mind, his heart. Taken away.

There is no glimmer of hope, no tinder left to spark.
Even the slightest of glowing embers has been drowned out by the finality of it all.
He can never be happy again.

The dam gives way. Tears roll down his cheek.
Salty streaks, past the corners of his mouth, splashing onto the ground.
The clouds burst forth in response.

He glances up into the rain, looking for answers.
Why this path, of all paths.
Why this sudden heart wrenching turn of events.

There is no thunder or lightning. This is not anger.
This is grief. This is pain.

He sits alone, and stares into nothingness.