An undulating and
never-ending mass of green all around was the view that I was offered by the
Western Ghats as I sat on the rock, facing the towering Kumaraparvatha. The
clouds drifting all around added to the charm of the view. Kumaraparvatha stood
taller than the other peaks around, like it was standing guard over them and
the wildlife that inhabited them.
It had taken us 3.5
hours on a steadily ascending path from Kukke - trekking through tall trees, some
leeches and the occasional snake – to reach the midway point (Bhattara mane) of
this Kumaraparvatha trek. Despite it being the season for rains, it didn’t rain
until we reached Bhattara mane. And it was an hour past noon already. But once
we reached that point, rain was unpredictably on and off. The forest department
was quite strict about not allowing us to trek past that point and quite understandably
so; in a recent incident, lightning strikes had claimed lives. We had the
entire evening to ourselves. An evening of nothingness to look forward to, with
a large expanse of mountains to immerse ourselves in. Brilliant, no?
The cloud cover was a
near constant and rains were very unpredictable. Heavy bouts of rains were
separated by mere minutes, which made sure that we all were constantly draped
in our ponchos or raincoats. However, as the evening wore on, there was a point
when the rains did subside. The clouds were still among us and it seemed like
the clouds were rising up from the valleys below, to join the bigger ones
hovering above us.
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| The cloud cover was a near constant...clouds rising up from the valley |
We found a smaller peak
which we wanted to trek to and we occupied that for the rest of the evening to
come. From this point, towards west, we could see the civilization below where
the mountains ended. We could also make out the trail of the Kumaradhara river
below, as it coursed through the woods. The river in itself wasn’t seen, but
the clouds rising up from the path of the river plotted its slender path. To
the east of the point lay the Kumaraparvatha. And on the other two sides, the
clouds, mountains, trees and greenery completed the view.
About time for
the sunset, I sat myself on one of the rocks around, admiring the huge mound of
green in front of me. Calling it a mound of green doesn’t do enough justice for
many reasons. One of them being that there were many varied shades of
green. The grass and trees, feasting on the frequent rains, had produced
innumerable and rich shades of the same hue. Also, setting sun playing behind
ever moving clouds created such varied effects on the greens and the towering
peak. All the clouds around us seemed to be attracted to the peak, offering
different amount of cover to the peak, as though they were guarding the peak
from the prying, hungry eyes of the people at its base.
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| Clouds seemed to be guarding the flat peak |
There weren’t any signs
of animal wildlife in these spots of the mountains; none if you exclude the
leeches! The animals stay away from humans, I was told. The next day though, I
would wake up to the song of a whistling thrush! How delightful was his song,
whistling away to himself, safe from our eyes. The Himalayan whistling thrush
supposedly stops whistling midway through, like he’s forgotten a note. This fellow
in Western Ghats seemed like he knew his notes all too well. Or maybe he composed
them all too well.
Back to my place on the rock, the cloud and sun combination allowed us the privilege of just a glimpse of Kumaraparvatha’s rather flat peak, a glimpse which lasted for just a few seconds. The moment was met with a collective aaahhh! I wondered if that was the Ghats' way of telling us that we humans should be limited to mere glimpses, and that if we're given more, we'd probably not leave them the way we saw them. At that moment though, the rock I sat on was the perfect place to savour this glimpse. Had I stood up and walked a few paces westwards, I’d have seen sights of civilization down below. But on this rock, there was no civilization to ruin my experience. I could as well have been in heaven. Really, at moments as special as this, seated as perfectly as I was, I start wishing for heaven to be real and for it to be an experience akin to this. But perhaps I’m looking at it in the wrong light. The heaven that I was wishing for would be a heaven worth dying for. The heaven that we have here is a heaven that’s worth living for.
