A summer day

When I wake up and get ready, it is still dark outside. I load my bag with food and water and come out on the road. At the railway station, however, it’s already busy. Trains arrive and leave, people jump in and out of them. Like any other time of the day.

The day breaks as the train picks speed. The sunlight touches the trees and fields near the railway track. The morning breeze ruffles our hair. Gradually, the city thins out, the buildings and shops give way to wide open fields. After about an hour’s travel, our train is already on the hills and is passing through several tunnels. Far below, in some village, smoke is rising out of a hut.

As soon as we alight at the platform, we run towards the bus station, hop into a bus (lucky that got there in time), and travel for one more hour to reach a dusty little place from where our walk starts. After rushing around since morning, this tranquil place charms us with the very first look. We cross a tiny primary school (it’s closed today, being a holiday), a small shop, and then take the road that goes up in the hills.

During our climb up the hill, we come across several small groups of villagers, all dressed in festival clothes, ambling down to the hill. We find out the reason of festivity soon enough, when an old woman from one such group catches us for a little chat while we rest under a shade. Apparently, it’s the wedding day for one of the boys from the village on top of the hill, and the whole village is heading towards the wedding. And as if on cue, the groom also appears shortly, with garlands around his neck and a bright headgear, but, strangely, walking bare-feet. He gives us a shy grin as he passes us by. We give him an encouraging smile in return.

We finally reach the pinnacle of the fort, after negotiating a steep climb. It’s a small fort – just a few caves and water tanks, one dilapidated stone gate, and one solitary cannon. After moving around the place for some time, we find a shaded place sit down for lunch. And there, looking lazily at the valley below and the nearby hills, I gobble down two paranthas and two gulab jamuns.

The climbing down proves to be extremely difficult – the heat exhausts us completely. The good thing, however, is that the hills are full of wild karonda fruits. We pick the ripe tangy-sweet fruits – eat as much as we can and stash the rest in the polythene bags to carry home.

Rest of the return journey goes pretty uneventfully. We negotiate two bumpy tempo rides to reach the railway platform and then catch our train back.

Of course, this isn't the advisable way to spend a summer day – out in the sun when the temperature soars to 41 degree centigrade. But, well, I needed to go away somewhere, especially after the insane April I had gone through.