“Can I have some water? I am all
sweaty and need a splash on my face.” The lady who was doing her chores gave me
a go ahead. I took of my cycling T and started throwing palm full of water on
my face. The lady and old man looked at me, quite perplexed. I stopped and
asked what happened. The old man asked what is that thing wrapped around your
chest. I told it was heart rate monitor. They smiled and asked,
“Forinnalliddra?” (Did
you stay abroad?) I simply smiled and said no. I have come from Bangalore and
heading towards Chunchi falls. A kid was looking at my cycle and started to
play with the gears. The lady scolded at him and asked to leave. I said, it’s
ok. Not to worry. I gave the kid a Snickers and asked, do you know how to ride
a cycle? The kid took the bar and ran away.
I was now soaked in cool water and my body had cooled down a
bit. The lady offered me something to eat. I said thanks but I have already
eaten. The old man interrupted and told her, “Aee. Bidu. Avaru English jana.
Breaddu jaamu tintare. Nam thara ragi mudde, chapathi tinnalla” (Leave him. He
is more of those English speaking people. They like to eat bread jam and not
ragi balls or Chapathi’s)
I said, no nothing like that. I just had breakfast and left
from there.
The Start
I always had an
intimate, romantic acquaintance with every place river Kaveri flows. I visited
the place where it was born, later bred and finally fought over by the riparian
states. I learnt about the legends, the made up stories and how a goddess
turned into a river. But I still couldn’t get enough of it. Water so tasty
flowing in one of the richest environments needs more attention. I opened up
maps and simply followed the catchment area. By chance, I stumbled upon what
looked like a huge tank on the map and it somehow looked like it fed the
Kaveri. Zooming in, I found out she was Arkavathi. It looked more like a snake
that gobbled up a rat and lying with a lump and slowly secreting to digest. I
quickly checked few images and it got my attention.
My day started at 5 AM and quickly went through the check
list. Bike, Puncture kit, Air pump, Hydration bag, Sunglasses, head gear, iPod,
Tang, Phone et al. All Check. Stuffed everything in my car’s trunk and left at
6:30 AM. My Plan was to bike around 60 kms that day in an area known for
reservoirs, waterfalls and hiking places adorned with hills, mountains and many
bridges.
 |
| Bangalore-Kanakapura Road |
The road from Bangalore to Kanakapura is very picturesque.
You can drive at a min of 60kmph with moderate traffic. I reached Kankapura in
an hour and left cycling asking directions from the locals. There was a light
drizzle and all I could do was pray against it. I cursed myself for not packing
a wind cheater. I simply moved on as I did not want to delay any further and
face the Sun for larger part of my trail.
 |
| Kanakapura-Sangam Road |
Of Beedi, Cigarrettes, Tiger, Caves and bullshit
It was
almost 8:30 AM and I was cycling for an hour after a picturesque drive on the
Bangalore Kanakapura road. I had been cycling an average 14.9kmph. I was hungry by now even and a restaurant was
nowhere to be seen. I did regret to have not stopped at a village called
“Hulibele” to eat. Slowly dragged myself to a crossing on my right. People were
waiting for a bus below an arch which read “Marale GaviMatha”. I asked a lady,
“Illi enadru tinnakke sigatta?” (Anything to eat around
here?).
“Bus barakke time ide inna” (There’s still some time for the
bus to come), said the lady.
“Illa, tinnakke” (No, to eat), I made an pyramid with my
hand and pointed the fingers towards my mouth. The lady crossed the road and
walked towards me, “Oh! Tindi na” (Oh, Snacks).
“Heege, olakk hogi” (Go inside, in this direction), said the
lady pointing towards the arch.
“Alli Hotel ideya? Tindi sigatta?”(Is there a Hotel? Do we
get anything to eat?). I knew she wouldn’t understand what restaurant meant.
Around Bangalore outskirts and typically in all the villages, a hotel is a
place to eat and the word restaurant doesn’t ring a bell.
“Dudda kododadre hotellu ide, illandre matha nu ide. Hashuvu
ittkonda yaaru vaapas baralla” , (If you want to pay you will find a hotel, or
else you will find a mutt) she said with a smile. A mutt (Kannada) is a place
run by a God man, a sage, saint or even a group of people/devotees coming
together irrespective of caste and creed. They usually dedicate themselves to
poor and downtrodden and today they even run educational institutions with
community kitchens providing free food for all.
“Sari. Eshtu doora ide?” (OK. How far is it?)
“Bari ardha kilometre. Hogi saar. Idu bittre innu nalak
kilometre enu sigalla”, (Just half a kilometre. Go Saar. Ignore this and you
won’t get anything to eat for the next 4 kms) and she started to turn back
towards the bus stop. I agreed and started towards the sanctum. I could see a
small shack on my right and headed towards it. One middle aged person looked at
me panting for breath and asked, “En saar, Neer beka?” (What saar, do you want
water?)
“Illa, tiffin sigatha?” (No, Do you have any tiffin?)
“O banni banni. Ena beku, Idly, rice, bath?” (Oh. Come. What
do you want? Idly, Rice, Flavoured rice)
“Idly kodi”, (Give idly) I said. “Avva, onda plate idly
haku. Avaru shoes hakandavare. Olakke baralla” (Mother, Get one plate idly. He
is wearing shoes and won’t come inside). And he went back to talking with his
fellow men.
The conversation was interesting. They were debating on
which one is better, beedi or cigarettes.
“Cigarettes are cold in nature and beedi’s keep your
internals warm. City people are used to it. So they can sustain. We cannot do
that. But one advantage of cigarette is, they have a filter. Smokers can choose
how much smoke they can take in!!!!”
Another elderly added,” But cigarettes are harmful. One
beedi is equivalent to 3 cigarettes of damage. What do you have to say saar?”
I opened my mouth to pitch in but my idli’s arrived. I
simply smiled and took the plate and started gobbling it up as though I had
last fed myself years ago. After a minute I asked,” I saw a place called Hulibele on my way. How did it get that
name?”
I knew I would be fed with some bull shit story. I still
dared to listen as they were friendly and in return to listening to their made
up stories, I was expecting them not to charge exorbitant prices for the
idli’s. It usually happens. The price charged is directly proportional to type
of clothing and accessories you wear.
One of them replied,” There used to be a lot of tigers
around. Once a female tiger along with her cubs entered the village and got
stuck in there. The locals cast a net on them and captured. That’s why it is
called Huli meaning tiger and bele meaning net”. I simply nodded on
his play of words.
Another lad who had just joined in threw his bits of bull
shit. “Even today there are tigers. They usually cross the roads in the
afternoon”. Common man!!! I had almost finished my breakfast and asked for some
tea. Finally another one, Mr Yes man, who was puffing his beedi, quipped “Are
you visiting the cave”. I told him I am going towards Chunchi falls. The other
guy objected, what will he do there? It’s closed. He looked at me like as if he
is going to give me another story. “Please no. Please no”, I said in my mind
and tried to look towards the tea that had just come.
He ignored my ignorance and continued, “Saar. Years ago 4
people went in the cave and even today they haven’t returned back. We all
decided to close for the safety of our children. Now we have pooled in and
built a temple around it.”
“Oh. Yeah. I see lots of kids playing around. Good thing,
you guys did that”
“Saar, which place are you from?” I told, I am from dharwad.
“Where in Dharwad?” he asked again. I stay near by the University. “Oh. Good. I
have been there. But there is one problem. The weather is not cool there like
here”. I shot back. No it’s as good as
it gets here. Temperatures are in the same range.
“Yes. But there are no hills like here. Due to that, in one
direction you get warm air and in another you get chilled air“
Mr Yes man, added “Here also it’s would have been the same
case. But the surrounding trees and mountains absorb the hot air and converts it
to a chill and soothing air”.
I couldn’t take it anymore. They were now redefining
physics. They were literally throwing faeces at me. I asked, how much for the
idly and tea. The men didn’t answer. Probably they felt guilty as they owed me
for listening to their stories. The lady from inside said, “10 Rs for idli and
4 rs for tea”. Wow!! 8 idlis, small sized though and 2 mini bhajiyas all for Rs
10. I could now see the avaricious side of the villagers. I gave them the money
and quickly took a picture and left.
 |
| Good food, Worst Imagination |
For all the stories, I have heard, the one about warm and
cold air is on top of list of made up stories.
The Water Fall
I saw what looked like a huge fortress adorned with worn
out, dried trees all over the hill face. Alongside the Old rocks, Arkavathi
dropped down through a series of sharp, jagged surface of lighter looking
rocks. Unlike any other boisterous waterfall, this was a silent one. The water
looked dark and slow flowing contrary to any water falls which look bubbly
white. Well, it’s summer. I was checking out few other surrounding areas from
the watchtower.
 |
| Watchtower |
Unlike being tourist friendly towers, this one was pretty
difficult to access and pretty sure it was built just to avoid tourists. Not
only is it shaky and old, it did not have enough handle/support bars. Avoid it.
The View is better if you could climb up nearby rocks which are much easier to
climb.
 |
| Chunchi Falls |
When I am tired and want to rest, I usually lie down or sit
and start looking around conjuring up random images in my head. Now I had
plethora of objects around and the rocky surface on which the river flows
provides an ample opportunity to ring some of the creative bells in your mind.
I did squint my eyes and first instance gave me a beautiful image of a white
patch of cracked up rocks surrounded by brown smoother surface. The river was
just a dark sunburnt patch on a beautiful white surface. The gorge looked more
like a wide open mouth of a menacing cat with a huge nose trying to eat away
the surrounding black forest cake.
 |
| Vicinity of Chunchi Falls |
When I had reached the abrupt end of the road, I could see
the path that lead to the waterfall below. I knew I could make it alone without
any help. I saw an old man walking towards me and I figured out he probably is
a local and his day job is to show locals around. He came near me sat near the
tree where I had parked my bike and took out a beedi and started smoking one. I
ignored him and looked at towards the hill and almost made my mind to go alone.
Just when I was about to leave, I saw few cows coming my away. Two things in
this world I am afraid are buses on roads and cows in the fields. The buses in
the city run more like trains the drivers act more like train conductors who
honk continuously rather than brake in case of a face off. The cows on the
other hand are menacing and stare at you with horns looking hungry for a fight.
I had no second thoughts but called out the guide to show me around. He stood
up and started to walk. Contrary to a typical tour guide, I felt the old man
was mysterious for his taciturn mannerisms. I had no choice but to lock my bike
around a tree and follow him.
 |
| My bike |
Just before you start the small trek towards the waterfall,
you can see a small canal which flow parallel to the river. It feeds the Hydro
Power station which you can see at a far distance. The canal starts from the
Arkavathi reservoir which was built to feed Bangalore city. The original plan
was to store 3 years’ worth of water for the entire Bangalore city. Today, it
provides for 20% of the water needs of Bangalore.
 |
| Canal that feeds the Hydro Power Plant |
Mr Guide was now growing impatient and had smoked up his 3rd
beedi. He was reaching out in his pocket for next one and I said, “Lets go”. I
asked him if I can go down and get closer to the water. He said, it was too
dangerous and started his story of a guy, a group of friends, Navy, Police and
Locals. I was tired enough and ignored him. All I was able to hear was somebody
died trying to show off his chauvinism in a hope to get fresh with the girls
and had to cough up his life. The locals charge from 35k to 50k INR to fish out
the body. The waterfall looks calm from a distance but is full of caprice. And
he suddenly stopped and turned towards me and said, why will the locals help
for free? It is just as risky for anyone. And mind you, the locals only help to
fish out the body and even if they see you falling, nobody will jump in the
water to save you. We all know how dangerous this place is. I nodded with point
taken expression.
I paid him off and asked him if I can get some drinking
water. It was almost 12 noon and I had emptied my hydration bag. I still had
some tang in my bottle but decided against it as it makes me thirstier. I saw a
bunch of other tourists partying nearby. I took a detour from my return path
and joined them. I cried out from a distance, not wanting to walk further with
my cycle in vain, if they had any water to drink. One guy said no and other guy
gave me a wave to come join them. I did not understand but 50% probability was
good enough for me. The guy who gave me a positive sign started, “We don’t have
water. We have a special drink.”
I asked, “What special drink?” By now I started to think
about a beer. It was good enough for me if they offered a chilled one.
“It’s a special coconut water” and showed a can, typically
used to carry kerosene or petrol. From all the evidence thrown at me, I
concluded it had Toddy (Palm wine). I asked them, if I can have a glass and they
happily obliged. I had never tried that and wanted to have some. A Plastic tumbler
full of Toddy which looked more like thin butter milk usually served in a
government hostel.
 |
| Toddy, Palm wine |
Well. It tasted shit. To be exact, try mixing coconut water
with Urine, salt and pop in a pinch of chat masala in your mouth and slowly sip
like Moroccan tea. First instinct was to spit it out. It would have been rude
if I threw the glass in front of them. I simply gulped down all of it. It
quenched my thirst though for a moment but rendered my entire journey back with
burps of the dirtiest concoction ever.
Best Water ever
By the time I had cycled around 5
kms on my way back, I had lost all my energy and was dehydrated. I was now
walking with my bike whenever a steep rise came. Thoughts of calling my friend
to pick me up came to my mind. I had anticipated this moment in the morning
before I left and had put Rocky Balboa’s famous quotes on my iPod to cheer me
up. Hooked up the earphones, stared at the open field and screamed on top of my
voice. I probably had scared some dogs. However, plastic Sylvester Stallone
looks, his movies definitely pump you out. For the uninitiated, here goes the
quote
“Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all
sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place and I don't care how
tough you are. It will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if
you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about
how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.
How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done!”
This propelled me for another 3
kms and I was all done. I took a pit stop in the next village, named Elaglli,
under a typical banyan tree setting in villages. Most of them men over there
did not speak a word to me. Neither did me. I simply threw my bag under my
head, lied down and stared at the tree above. The monkeys were looking for an
opportunity and had literally kept me under observation. I had made my mind not
to close my eyes. Though I was watchful, I knew for the fact that if the
monkey’s decide to attack and snatch stuff from me, I would give it up without
a fight. I looked around and wondered why these men are not in the fields
working. I had seen women working in the fields on my way here. The men were
either chewing tobacco or smoking beedi/Cigarettes. What a shame!!
Well, I now deduced that the
tobacco form being consumed was directly proportional to the hard work done by
the women in the fields or inversely proportional to how hard the woman could
beat the shit out of their men.
I asked if I can get some drinking
water. They asked me to go 500 mtrs into the core of the village and a tank is
available. I asked if there are any shops that sell packaged water and one of
them suggested that the tank water was “Mineral waterru”. I simply gave em a
nod and moved on.
The next site baffled me. A huge
hoarding with pictures of local politicians read “Pure water” in local dialect.
All you had to do is to insert a Re 1 coin just like you do in a snack machine
and clean drinking water gushes out, probably around 15 to 20 litres. Hats off.
I wanted to rest and eat something and a lady who watched me fill water offered
me a place on the veranda of what looked like some sort of village store room.
I smiled and just lied down for half an hour.
 |
| Beat that, "Packaged Water" |
The End
It was now almost 1:30 and I left
the place thanking them. After sometime, I saw a sign post reading,
Kanakapura-19kms. I was now passing through the same village where the old man
had commented about my bread jam habits. I was fully soaked and breathing hard.
The lady looked at me smiling and waving. I could read her face. She definitely
was wishing me luck. The old man’s just had a poker face. Though he did not say
anything, I did figure out what he was thinking. If I had to take of that mask
from his face, I would probably see a smirk face saying, “Look at him. He went
up the hill. Came down a mountain. What a stupid way to lose day light!!”
I moved on. Another day awaits. Another journey awaits.
