Driving down to Lonavla might tempt you to take a detour towards kamshet. Acres of green cover, brilliant flora and fauna dotted with quaint temples and curious natural wonders ufffd it's all for the taking
Driving down to Lonavla might tempt you to take a detour towards Kamshet. Acres of green cover, brilliant flora and fauna dotted with quaint temples and curious natural wonders ufffd it's all for the taking
There was a time in the monsoon when Lonavla and its surroundings were deserted tracts of hilly terrain. The only people you would run into at Bushi Waterfall would likeminded folk who liked offbeat locations. The only scream of joy you would hear at the cascading waterfall at Tiger's Leap would be the echo of your own scream coming from the back of beyond. And the only footsteps you hear apart from those of your friends would be of the goats climbing up the rocks alongside you. This was the 1970s.
Herds like these will greet you in and around Kamshet.
PIC/u00a0C Gangadharan Menon
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Hit the rewind button
If you yearn to take a trip back to those times, or if you were not even a twinkle in your parents' eyes back in the '70s and want to know what life was like then, take the road to Lonavla but don't stop there. Instead, head towards Pune on the Old Mumbai-Pune Highway for another 15 kms, passing Karla, till you reach a dusty crowded village called Kamshet. Don't let the view deter you. When you take a left from here, the world metamorphoses into an idyllic rustic landscape barely 3 kms into the trail. From there onwards, it's a journey back on the Time Machine.
Vadivali Lake near Kamshet.
A vast expanse of paddy fields and sunflower fields open up before you, and you will see farmers working in slow motion. Looking at them, it's tough to imagine that these folk are actually the descendants of the fearsome guerrilla warriors of Shivaji ufffdthe Maavlas.
Enjoying the burst of one of the many waterfalls around Kamshet
Natural wonders
En route to Kondeshwar temple atop the mountain, I spotted two architectural marvels of Nature: nests of the Harvester Ant and the Pagoda Ant. The former makes a nest on the ground. At first glance it looks like the sand sculpture of a flower. The petals of this flower are so angled as to light up the inside of the nest, every passing moment from sunrise to sunset. And on every single day of the year! The nest of the Pagoda Ant on the other hand is made on a tree. First, the ant converts the bark of the tree into a fine powder and then after mixing it with its saliva painstakingly makes a nest that resembles a pagoda. It actually looks like an anteater as it hangs from the tree. And thereby hangs a tragic tale too. Some species of woodpeckers get attracted to this ready-made nest and they start pecking into it. Once a hole is made, the female woodpecker enters it and lays its eggs inside. And once the eggs hatch and the fledglings come out, the mother feeds them with the hosts: the Pagoda ants! Talk about biting the hand that feeds you!
Still trying to decode the ways of nature, I reached the temple of Kondeshwar. An unusual-looking priest greeted me. When he learnt that I was from Mumbai, he fondly remembered the time he was part of an ilk famous for their coding and decoding: the dabbawalas. After 5 years in the profession, he returned to his native temple and took over from his father as the priest. He pointed out to a live termite mound bang in the middle of the temple, and said in a hushed whisper: "The serpent that guards the temple lives there." Once again, I didn't ask for proof. I believed him just like I believed the story of the sunflower.
Haribhau, that was his name, then took me to a three-tiered waterfall just behind the temple. From there we walked to a clearing flanked by towering cliffs on either side. To the left was the trail of the gruelling trek to Bhairi Caves high up in the clouds.
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Then I drove back to Kamshet village, past a landscape adorned with a patchwork of lovely lakes, bisected the highway and went towards the inviting waters of Pavna Dam. The road took me through Bhor Ghat, which was an exact replica of the Khandala Ghat. As the ghat began, a temple emerged in the middle of the road, and drivers of passing vehicles were seen chucking coins in the direction of the temple hoping for temporary blessings that might last till the ghat was crossed.
When I got down at Pavna and walked towards the lake, a startled Red-Wattled Lapwing took off into the sky, and hovered around my head, screaming continuously. I must have inadvertently gone near its nest. A Lapwing doesn't make a nest, but lays its eggs among pebbles, so perfectly camouflaged that only she can tell the eggs from the stones. I steered away from the spot and the bird's cries had toned down, assured of the safety of its eggs.
As I drove back, a cool breeze applied a soothing balm. Once again I was reminded of the quiet drive back to Mumbai, along the quiet highway of the '70s.
When I was 20, my nostalgic memories were of my childhood. At 54, it is the Lonavla of my teens. And I realised that nostalgia isn't what it used to be. It had grown older.
Other things to do
>> Learn paragliding over two weekends. Or if you want the easy way out, do a tandem ride with an expert paraglider: it's like riding pillion on a bike.
Where to stay
>> Log on to nirvanaadventures.comu00a0or info@nativeplace.comu00a0or bombayymcacamp.org or pgashram.com
How to reach
>>Take the road to Lonavla but don't stop there. Instead, head towards Pune on the Old Mumbai-Pune Highway for another 15 kms, passing Karla, till you reach a dusty crowded village called Kamshet. The idyllic rustic landscape is barely 3 kms into the trail.
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