It was one of those nights .. no aim, no nothing. Just a bunch of fools who knew not what to do and a bigger fool having fancy ideas. A few willing accomplices, dealing with their uncertainties. A few unwilling, forced by their uncertainties.
So off we set : with many fools being added and subtracted to the bunch. Arriving at Chembur No.92 terrace, I departed with few of the fools to get the drink of enchantment and any comestibles which we could lay our hands on at such an unholy hour. It was past 12 midnight.
Having had some spiritual upliftment and a bit of what appeared to be mutton biryani, we were ready to go. But the original spiritual folks of No. 92. terrace, who we had joined, now posed a problem. They, having suddenly discovered great love for the fools, decreed that no one is going out on the bikes in the dead of the night with no destination and having become somewhat spiritual. This indeed posed a problem. With great diplomacy and brotherly love (interlaced with dire threats) we finally were on our way.
Because of the disused state of the minds of most of the fools, there happened to be great unrest and constant infighting. This notwithstanding the journey continued. Anyway, what is a journey without trouble, I ask ??
Panvel came. Tea. Some reheated kanda bhajji with soggy pav. We discovered a place where we could get booze at 0300hrs. Panvel went. The temperatures had dropped considerably as compared to the ones the fools were used to in the homeland. True to name most of the fools were in their summer clothing and were rather enjoying the cold. The bigger fool had come prepared and was very selfishly warm and content and watching the fun. May he break his other leg too and fry in hell.
Chowk came. The cold had gone to the head of most and soon a fire was ignited. Into it went whatever could be found nearby which cumbusted. Someone's (disused?) doormat. Decorative paper hung all over (pataka) (probably for next day's function?). Bamboo pieces and cardboard from the infrastructure of the many small shops nearby. We spent a uneasy, smoky, sleepy 45 minutes here.
At this point of time the bigger fool added to the confusion by suggesting that there may be multiple options open. Lonavala or Matheran (he claimed with great confidence that both were at the same distance and, more importantly, the temperature conditions were the same). A vote was called for and Matheran elected. What a successful democracy this was (despite the very vocal protests of a fat fool).
The road to Karjat is newly made. The ride in the early morning through the dark countryside was refreshing. If you allowed it, it cleansed the soul. The cold wind bitingly passed all through and removed the bad. The pain. The unnecessary questions. The infinite why's. It filled in the empty space which, like a vacuum, sucks in all your thoughts otherwise.
In full glory we reached the base of the Matheran climb. We parked and contemplated. The older fool's bike slipped from the side stand and it fell on its side breaking the helmet visor.
Matheran came. We had hot cutting chai and omlette pav. And then some more chai. And then headed back towards reality.
Such is a night with fools. Beware.
> Chembur No.92 terrace. Philosophy and Spirituality.
> Chowk and the fire we ignited. "Common baby, light my fire. Try to set the night on fire ...!"
> Dawn breaking at the Neral khind.
> Matheran aglow with the purest of pure lights ...
> Neral Village
> Yellow grass glowing with the Sun's first rays.
> Catching the Sun
> The Road to Enchantment
> Staggering wisps of fog protect the snug life below, cozy in their space and love.
> As the day grows ...
All photos taken with a Sony Erricsson K750i mobile camera phone by the bigger fool.
So off we set : with many fools being added and subtracted to the bunch. Arriving at Chembur No.92 terrace, I departed with few of the fools to get the drink of enchantment and any comestibles which we could lay our hands on at such an unholy hour. It was past 12 midnight.
Having had some spiritual upliftment and a bit of what appeared to be mutton biryani, we were ready to go. But the original spiritual folks of No. 92. terrace, who we had joined, now posed a problem. They, having suddenly discovered great love for the fools, decreed that no one is going out on the bikes in the dead of the night with no destination and having become somewhat spiritual. This indeed posed a problem. With great diplomacy and brotherly love (interlaced with dire threats) we finally were on our way.
Because of the disused state of the minds of most of the fools, there happened to be great unrest and constant infighting. This notwithstanding the journey continued. Anyway, what is a journey without trouble, I ask ??
Panvel came. Tea. Some reheated kanda bhajji with soggy pav. We discovered a place where we could get booze at 0300hrs. Panvel went. The temperatures had dropped considerably as compared to the ones the fools were used to in the homeland. True to name most of the fools were in their summer clothing and were rather enjoying the cold. The bigger fool had come prepared and was very selfishly warm and content and watching the fun. May he break his other leg too and fry in hell.
Chowk came. The cold had gone to the head of most and soon a fire was ignited. Into it went whatever could be found nearby which cumbusted. Someone's (disused?) doormat. Decorative paper hung all over (pataka) (probably for next day's function?). Bamboo pieces and cardboard from the infrastructure of the many small shops nearby. We spent a uneasy, smoky, sleepy 45 minutes here.
At this point of time the bigger fool added to the confusion by suggesting that there may be multiple options open. Lonavala or Matheran (he claimed with great confidence that both were at the same distance and, more importantly, the temperature conditions were the same). A vote was called for and Matheran elected. What a successful democracy this was (despite the very vocal protests of a fat fool).
The road to Karjat is newly made. The ride in the early morning through the dark countryside was refreshing. If you allowed it, it cleansed the soul. The cold wind bitingly passed all through and removed the bad. The pain. The unnecessary questions. The infinite why's. It filled in the empty space which, like a vacuum, sucks in all your thoughts otherwise.
In full glory we reached the base of the Matheran climb. We parked and contemplated. The older fool's bike slipped from the side stand and it fell on its side breaking the helmet visor.
Matheran came. We had hot cutting chai and omlette pav. And then some more chai. And then headed back towards reality.
Such is a night with fools. Beware.
> Chembur No.92 terrace. Philosophy and Spirituality.
> Chowk and the fire we ignited. "Common baby, light my fire. Try to set the night on fire ...!"
> Dawn breaking at the Neral khind.
> Matheran aglow with the purest of pure lights ...
> Neral Village
> Yellow grass glowing with the Sun's first rays.
> Catching the Sun
> The Road to Enchantment
> Staggering wisps of fog protect the snug life below, cozy in their space and love.
> As the day grows ...
All photos taken with a Sony Erricsson K750i mobile camera phone by the bigger fool.
5 comments:
a fool to write a comment. aftr a long time a good literature from u...nice to see u back...
one thing to mention abt those photographs : that yellow grass photo looks quite artificial...
It was like that. It was very early in the morning. Look at the sky, it was originaly almost deeep blue, but the long exposure made it lighter. The grass did not have direct sunlight I think. It was the dawn light. This was before we went up. The other photos are on the way back.
yes some of the r like painting but over all the photos r good i like it
remember this trip is without me & u not even informed me thats bad
sounds like fun!
At times I wonder, what is it that a man lurks around for in the silent corner of the enchanted night as the crowd gathers around the burning logs in the revelry of the millenia. Wht is it that his mute mind whispers to the wind behind his ears as the silhouettes of the forms swinging by the firelight morph into the shadows of wolves dancing in harmony with the decadence of the un-dying night.
And why is it that he feels a smile stretch across his cheek as the drop of tears staggers down his moist skin like a river cascading down the scars of an abandoned past.
Perhaps, that is why no matter how much we enlighten ourselves we shall be no more wiser than the fool in the corner that is throwing his tear-laden smile at us.
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