Returning home from the Belvai Butterfly Event, 110922
Driving in the Sahayadri hills, in the monsoon.
The rain comes down in torrents. The clouds turn into a gray mist, which wraps its miasma on the road. I drive the car past roaring waterfalls, which have gathered strength with the downpours. The windshield feels as if it's made of ground glass.
The tail lights of the cars ahead wink redly.
The headlights, and, occasionally, the fog lights, of oncoming cars, add a huge factor of difficulty to the already tough driving. I pass the cars which tourists have parked, rather riskily, to enjoy the gushing cascades.
Huge sprays of water rise from the wheels of the vehicles on the highway. I worry about the car suddenly aquaplaning and losing control.
It's a relief to leave the ghats and emerge into the area where the heavy forest vegetation gives way to agriculture and dwellings, as Nature is tamed into submission to the human imperative.
I turn the wheel over to the owner of the car, and sit, typing this, as I get the internet connection back on my phone.
We switch on the karaoke, and three of us sing loudly. The friend who's driving the car wishes we could keep it down a little; and the fourth listens quietly, not letting on if he likes it or not!, But I think we sing together quite well!
Ashok chooses travel and rain songs...
O raahi O raahi!... Rimjhim girey saawan....
We speed along on the wings of song, and friendship.
Charmadi Ghat, road back home, 110922.
The rain comes down in torrents. The clouds turn into a gray mist, which wraps its miasma on the road. I drive the car past roaring waterfalls, which have gathered strength with the downpours. The windshield feels as if it's made of ground glass.
The tail lights of the cars ahead wink redly.
Click to viewThe headlights, and, occasionally, the fog lights, of oncoming cars, add a huge factor of difficulty to the already tough driving. I pass the cars which tourists have parked, rather riskily, to enjoy the gushing cascades.
Huge sprays of water rise from the wheels of the vehicles on the highway. I worry about the car suddenly aquaplaning and losing control.
It's a relief to leave the ghats and emerge into the area where the heavy forest vegetation gives way to agriculture and dwellings, as Nature is tamed into submission to the human imperative.
I turn the wheel over to the owner of the car, and sit, typing this, as I get the internet connection back on my phone.
We switch on the karaoke, and three of us sing loudly. The friend who's driving the car wishes we could keep it down a little; and the fourth listens quietly, not letting on if he likes it or not!, But I think we sing together quite well!
Ashok chooses travel and rain songs...
O raahi O raahi!... Rimjhim girey saawan....
We speed along on the wings of song, and friendship.
Charmadi Ghat, road back home, 110922.