By wee2books.blogspot.in
Three Amigos Ride to Spiti by Ketan Joshi
I have to say, I have been waiting for this book. I read everything written by Ketan Joshi who slowly but firmly cemented his position among the English language writers of India. He has written short stories, detective stories and even books on marketing, but his travel stories are just magical, awesome and filled with the most innocent, the purest form of fun. Three Men Ride Again: Three Amigos Ride to Spiti by Ketan Joshi is the second book in the series of Three Amigos travelogue. I read the first book in this series. It was called Three Men on Motorcycles: The Amigos Ride to Ladakh. I liked it immensely. So I couldn’t resist the temptation of downloading the second book, that I found buried under stacks of other Kindle books.

Ketan Joshi’s second book is even better than the first one. The most important improvement being the brevity. When it comes to writing travelogue, Ketan Joshi is simply a genius. Other travel stories that I read over last few years were serious, dreamy-eyed type descriptions of places and people. There are plenty route charts, information on hotels and must-see places. But all these voluminous details and painstakingly laid out travel plans kill the joy of reading the book as a literature. Ketan Joshi’s travel stories are not meant for dry tourist handbooks. They are humorous stories about three friend going on distant places and having a real blast. Read it and you’ll find yourself giggling every now and then.

In Three Men Ride Again: Three Amigos Ride to Spiti by Ketan Joshi, fun starts right from page one. It is not the serious and twisted kind of fun that writers often use to make their works look incredibly smart and polished. It is the boorish, imbecile fun that can only be found among best friends on their intimate moments. I’d kill and maim just to get a moment like that in my life.
Bawa gets airsick easily, so we tried to tell him horror stories about air turbulence and accidents and roller coasters to get him to puke or at least get dizzy; but he was on to us – and stuck his fingers in his ears and shouted ‘nananana’ to drown out our stories. Everyone in the plane stared at us, but we told them that he was a harmless lunatic and we were taking him to Punjab where he would fit in easily.
When the three friends like Delzad, Adi and Ketan are together they hardly need anyone else to have unmixed, consummate fun. The ability to mock oneself is what I consider the most effective form of humour and Joshi’s book is just stuffed with it. The sentences are simple, quite straight-forward yet when you read them, your belly starts aching from laughing hysterically.
Our tummies were so full that bending over to tighten the straps was sto risk apoplexy or a sudden bowel movement.
Who writes like that? Most of the books I read nowadays are so grim and serious, they keep me sad and moody for days. Not that they are badly written, or not interesting, but the problem is that they were too truthful in mirroring the darkness of contemporary society. The writers may be actually good humoured in person, but they have seen too much of the dark sides. That might have choked the fountain of fresh water inside them. I don’t blame them. The world has gone to that direction. A world like this amounts to intellectual asphyxiation. So at times we need to stick our head out of water, inhale fresh air and live a little. Three Men Ride Again: Three Amigos Ride to Spiti by Ketan Joshi is a book just about that.

There are also ocassional mention of historical facts or little details about the Geography. But they are not the text-book kind of facts. The information is presented in a way that even the most absent minded, passive aggressive backbencher, with little or no respect for studies will find it entertaining.
Chail had an even cooler history than Simla. The legend goes that Chail was built is a ‘Fuck you’ gesture by the Maharaja of Patiala to the British.
That’s dry, binary data blended with unique storytelling. If Ketan Joshi had written a text book it would be a superhit among college goers. Education would be fun rather than a burden as it is now felt. Joshi also toys with popular mythology. He tells the stories in different lights.
The story goes that Hidimb was a ferocious demon living in the forest, and Hidimba was his equally ferocious demon sister. They used to go around doing various demon things – eating people and disturbing sages and stuff.
Then one fine morning Bheema comes to that part of the forest and kills Hidimb, the demon. That’s too mainstream.
Demon meets hero, Demon attacks hero, Demon dies.
But what happens after that was rather strange.
On Seeing that her only brother is dead, beaten to death by this fellow Bheema – what does Sister Hidimba do? Does she attack him? Does she bay for his blood? Does she try to kill him?
No! She gets horny! She basically says ‘Ooh... you killed my brother ... that was so hot... Lets fuck!
Adi on these riding trips is on perpetual motion. He doesn’t stop every now and then to admire the sceneries. He loves rough ride like Delzad – the rougher the road, the better. However, he spends huge amount of time taking pictures – not of the places he visits – but of himself and his bike. Delzad, an absolute foodie, shows severe withdrawl symptoms if he doesn’t get to eat Tandoori for a few days. The mix of Ketan, Adi and Delzad often reminds me of another very famous and well-read travelogue – Three Men in a Boat.
The canyons and gorges had been created by the force of the fast running rivers, which, over the eons, had cut right through the soft sedimentary rocks like a string through a boiled egg. The Himalayas are not solid volcanic rock like the Sahyadris – they are made up of sediments of the sea floor which were pushed up when the subcontinent of India crashed into the mainland of Asia and threw up the plateau of Tibet and the giant ripples of the Himayalas.
That’s one piece of Geography lesson, minus the text-book style bombastic and rigormortis like formality.

Ketan is a nature lover and like any true nature lover the slow destruction of all good tourist spots makes him sad. It is not that he is running some propaganda material on ecology or something. It all comes with observation of a clear and unbiased mind of a naturalist. Ketan Joshi is often critical about the unmindful and wholesale destruction of nature.
... what would you expect with a place in India which is holy to two religions? Its twice as ugly and dirty, obviously.
Three Men Ride Again: Three Amigos Ride to Spiti by Ketan Joshi is a book everyone should read. It is not just a good travelogue but also a fairly nice piece of contemporary literature. In the present time of emotional and intellectual deprivation, I find his books strangely soothing. I will be eagerly waiting for the next book in Three Amigos series. The Amigos will ride South - promises Ketan Joshi. This gives a hint on what the next book is going to be about.

​https://wee2books.blogspot.in/2017/10/three-amigos-spiti-ketan-joshi.html

By wee2books.blogspot.com

Three Men on Motorcycles: The Amigos Ride To Ladakh
Three Men on Motorcycle: The Amigos Ride to Ladakh by Ketan Joshi is the funniest travelogue I've ever read. The other two travelogues that I read and found exceedingly humorous were Mark Twain’s The Innocents Abroad and J. K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat. The Innocents Abroad had some serious doses of History, that as an Indian I didn’t find much interest in. The same goes with the description and histories narrated in Jerome’s classic.

Unlike the two classics I just mentioned, Ketan Joshi’s Three Amigos Ride to Ladakh made me feel at home. There were pilgrims marring the scenic beauty, the indecisive and adamant officer at a border check post, tourists polluting mountain lakes, the lazy and incompetent goods clerk, and not to mention the police trying to find an excuse to extort money – all these make us Indians feel very much at home. Then comes the most important part: the destination is Ladakh.

I’ll tell you how I came across this book. I first borrowed it from Amazon’s Kindle Unlimited, read it and then decided I should have it in my collection. So I bought it – not the ebook of course – but the hardcover. There are a few books that you read a number of times in your lifetime. You had a terrible day in your office, you had a break up, you’ve shifted to a new town and missing your old buddies – all you need is a book that can make you love your life again. That book shouldn’t be an ebook. Hell, no!
The first thing you notice about Three Men on Motorcycles is its intimate style of narrating things. The whole thing is extremely informal. Though it certainly comes under the travel genre, this book is more about the kind of relationship you have with your best friends. You swear at each other, you insult and make fun of each other, you are downright mean to each other, but despite it all, you can’t live without each other. Three Amigos are just like that. They drink rum together, smoke weed together, but most importantly, they ride their Royal Enfields together. If you have even one friend like them, you should consider yourself extremely rich.

Alright! Now there is a fourth person, Bharathi, who though physically not present with the amigos, keeps guiding them through cellphones, emails and sometimes when there’s no network, through her minions. “UTHO REY. UTHO REY.” They say. That drives them into ‘perpetual motion’ besides driving them crazy. I must mention something here though. The idea of Bharathi taking possession of humans and animals and controlling them remotely, her getting inside Ketan’s mind and making suggestions therefrom – they were doubtlessly funny. But I also found them interfering into and sometimes obstructing the smooth flow of the story. The idea was good when it started, then it was used again and again. By the time I reached the end of this book, it became so dull that I actually started to skip anything written in all-caps because they were supposed to be related directly or indirectly to Bharathi.

There is hardly anything that’s still or static in this book. It’s like a motion picture. It’s like The Motorcycle Diaries, only less philosophical. But that is because the three friends are in ‘perpetual motion’. There is history, there are descriptions, but they are brief and humorous. Even reading the history will make you smile. There is hardly a paragraph in this book that you read without laughing out loud. The literary style is lean. There is nothing that is unnecessary. If there’s anything that isn’t related to Three Amigos, then probably it’s never mentioned in this book. I read a lot of contemporary literature. The verbosity scares me. Not even once in this book had Ketan Joshi overridden the law of brevity. Comparing this book with The Adventures of Dipy Singh Private Detective by the same author, will give you some idea about the giant leap he has taken in quality of his compositions. 
Do present Three Men on Motorcycles: The Amigos Ride to Ladakh to your son on his 18th birthday.

​https://wee2books.blogspot.in/2017/05/three-men-motorcycles-ladakh.html

Check out this fun podcast on motorbiking life created by a friend.  She made this for a school project and I think she did an amazing job 

https://m.soundcloud.com/eisha-nair-262251274/diary-motorcycle/s-n9sBq

I was flattered to receive a mail from leading Indian travel site www.ghumakkar.com saying that they have heard about my book 'Three men on motorcycles' and asking me if I would like to be interviewed for publication in their site. 

Well, of course I would!  They interviewed me via email and the interview was published online on 1st July 2017

You can check it out here 

 The portuguese era in India is something that is not much talked about nowadays, possibly because the British had no love for them and were happy for them to be forgotten. But they were the first western power to visit and colonise India in 1498 - and for that matter, were the last power to exit India.. Well after the British left, all the way till 1961!

They ruled a vast swathe of land, and had forts starting from Diu in Gujarat and all the way down to the Kerala coast. They had an extensive presence on the Eastern coast as well - with forts from Tuticorin till the Hooghli, and also ruled the island of Sri Lanka. They could have easily been the dominant power in the subcontinent, but got bogged down in royal politics and were ultimately outmaneuvered by the British East India company.  

The main capital of Portuguese India was Goa, of course - but the Northen capital was Vasai - or ‘Bassein’ as they knew it. It was an extremely rich fort - the centre of a flourishing kingdom and was the dominant power in the region - much bigger than the small outpost of Bom Bahia, or Bombay island.

But now the fort is ruined and abandoned, and Vasai has been relegated to a sleepy backwater. It was to this place that I decided to cycle to on Sunday morning. If you drive down to Vasai then you have to take a circuitous route, but if you go on cycle you can carry the bike through the subway under Naigaon station and save a few Ks.

A 2000 thousand year old rock carved cave temple right in the middle of Suburban Mumbai...and no one seems to care very much about it!
I have been doing Mumbai exploration this year, and while researching online for places to visit, I stumbled on Mandapeshwar caves in Borivli. I found it simply incredible that we have an ancient almost pre-history rock cut temple right here and no one seems to know or care about it.
I read about it on Ashutosh Bijoor's blog, and found that it was carved in 550 AD, around the same time as the nearby Jogeshwari caves (which also is an unknown treasure) and the Kondivate or Mahakali caves, and was carved in the same style as the Elephanta caves or the Ellora temples.

Well, I simply had to see this, and one rainy sunday, I cycled from chembur to Borivli to visit the caves. It was a about 40 Km each way, and passed through or by many things that make Mumbai amazing ( a forest, a lake, hills, ancient temples, modern highways and urban sprawl)
​

I found the caves tucked unobstrisively away in Borivli bylanes in an overwhelmingly christian area - it was near the IC colony and just below a church - the church of our lady of immaculate conception. It seemed that it would have been on church lands before the ASI took ownership of the area.

The other point that struck me was that it seemed to be really obscure and unmarked. There were some building materials outside which indicated that there are plans to fence it off, but as of now it was open and and nameless. There was no indication that a unique rock cut temple was nearabouts.

But when I entered the caves and looked around, I was entranced! What a wonderful cave temple! And it was reasonably well maintained as well. 
It was originally built on the shores of the Dahisar river, but now the river has changed its course and the temple has become inland. But you can just imagine the temple as it must have been - in a jungle, along the riverside, on a small hill, the most talented artists and sculptors had created a beautifully carved temple out of the living rock. 

The idea of rock cut caves was started by the buddhist monks, but the hindus also liked the idea and also started making the same. Possibly the same sculptors who created the buddhist caves started making caves for the hindus as well - depending on who was signing the cheques. The Mumbai area was a big trading area due to the many big ports in the area - Thane, Sopara, Vasai, etc and there must have been a lot of rich seths willing to finance cave making in the forests of Mumbai. We have Buddhist caves and Hindu caves in Mumbai - Mahakali and Kanheri are Buddhist, and Jogeshwari and Elephanta are Hindu. 
​

The golden age of cave temples ended about 1500 years ago, and India and Mumbai went through many epochs and empires since then. The importance of the Mumbai area dwindled and the big traders went off to other areas, and the whole area went into obscurity. The muslim waves into India started, with first the persian gulf muslims and then the Mughals from the Mongol lands swept over India, and big temple building went into decline as the Hindu kings were swept away.  But they were not too interested in this part of the world, and kept away from it.
But the portuguese came to India in the 1500s and they were extremely interested in this area because of the access to sea lanes. They rapidly built up a formidable presence along the western  coast and established a string of forts from Diu right down to Mumbai and were the rulers of the sea. They took over the sea shore lands as there wasnt anyone to oppose them. 
Along with the conquisadors came the priests who were licking their chops at getting so many heathens to convert to the word of the lord, and they went around converting all the villagers they could find. As the Portuguese military hold tightened, they could use harsher and harsher measures to get converts. One of these was was to deface local temples and use them as churches. As we can see here - there is a bas relief of Shiva which had been carved down to a cross. They built a monastery on top of the temple, whose ruins can still be seen today. 
As an article in the Hindu notes - 
"The Mandapeshwar caves perhaps have the most tumultuous history of all the Mumbai caves, or so it would seem from the scars the walls still bear. A Hindu temple, it was targeted by the Portuguese, who asserted their religious beliefs over it by literally building a monastery and a church dedicated to Our Lady of Immaculate Conception on top of the cave temple. Fr. Porto founded the monastery and church in 1544.
A visitor in 1804 noted: “The good priests had covered [the carved Hindu figurines in the cave] with a smooth coat of plaster and had converted the whole into a chapel.”

The time of the portuguese was limited though, as they were faced with a wiler enemy - the British. They teamed up with the Marathas and persuaded them to go to war with the Portuguese and destroy them. Under Chimaji appa, they besieged and defeated the huge Portuguese fort of Vasai and then wiped them out of the Mumbai area, which included Borivli. This was of double advantage to the British, as the Portuguese were thrown out, and the marathas were fatally weakened at the same time, enabling the British to defeat them within a few years. 
"In the 18th century the church was desecrated after the Battle of Bassein in which the Marathas defeated the Portuguese. They uncovered and worshipped the rock-cut sculptures again, but towards the end of the 18th century the British defeated the Marathas and the caves once again functioned as a place of Christian worship. After the end of colonial rule the church fell into disrepair and the caves gradually reverted to the worship of Siva. The church, including its roof, has been destroyed, but older local residents recall playing among the aisles and the nave of the church when they were children."

I saw that this place was becoming a live temple again, with people praying there and offering flowers and stuff. I have mixed feeling about this - on the one hand, I strongly believe that ancient monuments should be left alone and properly preserved, and we tend to mess up temple areas very fast. On the other hand, it brings the old temple to life when people pray a bit and offer bright flowers. It gives you a little glimpse of what it must have been in the old days. 

The funniest part of all is the fact that people apparently know about this cave, but do not care about it. I told my mom about it, and she remembered the location as she had lived in Borivli many years ago. But she had never been there, and didn't seem impressed with the idea of a 2000 year old rock cut temple. 
I spoke to various friends living in Borivli, who either had no idea about the existence of the place, or if they did - then had not been there - or if they had been there, were not sensible about the importance of the place.
In Europe, every small thing is celebrated as a Unesco world heritage site - an olive plantation, some obscure town and watchtower, some small road, anything.

​This is a national treasure, and even the locals dont know anything about it, and care even less. So weird. 

The church of Our Lady of immaculate conception - which must be an offshoot of the same church which was built on  top of this ancient temple - was full for Sunday mass, and I couldnt help but notice the difference in the fortunes of this temple and that church. 

I wouldnt want it to be locked up behind ASI fences and rendered inaccessible, but definitely we should nurture and protect this place and make more people aware of this. 

Mumbai has a great history, and hopefully we will protect and enjoy it in the future as well. 

​Another monsoon Sunday! ITS TREKKING TIME! AND CYCLING TIME!
Delzad was out of town so this time I convinced Adi to join me for a trek.  He was excited and scared at the same time.
‘My back is paining bro’ he complained, but I convinced him to come along – we will do a simple trek.  I also wanted to do some good cycling, and after some research, decided on Kondana caves.  I saw it in Harish Kapadia, and then read Ashutosh Bijoor’s amazing blog on his cycling trip there.  As soon as I saw the photos I was hooked...what an amazing carved cave temple! I want to see this.
This would be the longest one way cycling trip yet – about 70 KM! Kondana was near Karjat.
I started at daybreak – about 6 AM  - and set out on the Bombay Pune road.  I had done Karnala earlier, and it was the same route till Panvel, where the highway split into the Bombay Goa road, and the Bombay Pune road. 
It took me about 5 hours, but luckily it was cloudy and slightly rainy, and that kept the temperature cool. Adi slept off in the morning, and set out late – but that turned out to be a good thing, as it took him only an hour to reach karjat and he caught up with me as I was having some wada pav for breakfast.
I loaded the cycle in the Scorpio and we went off to kondivade village. This is also the starting point of the trek to Rajmachi fort.

​I was a bit taken aback by the crowds on the trail – it was packed! As this is a pretty simple trek, and easily accessible by road – you get a lot of first level trekkers, and also since packaged treks by companies are becoming a big thing, you get a lot of organised groups as well. There was a group of children and another couple of groups of adults there, and also a lot of family groups and local people as well, and Indian crowds being what they are, there was a lot of noise and the inevitable litter and garbage.
But on the other hand, it is a good thing that these people are stepping out of home and malls and seeing the hills and valleys and ancient culture of our country. Maybe they will develop a love of trekking and become mountain  and history lovers. So good for them.
We found a villager who volunteered to show us the way to the caves, and that was lucky for us as he showed us a fairly unused and virgin way to the caves and avoided most of the crowds.  It was doubly lucky for me, as I dropped my  cap on the way and it was still there when we came back down. 

​The kondane caves are amazing! What carvings! What artwork! What a location!
They are 2000 years old, and still look regal and outstanding. The main Chaitya hall has a intricately carved entrance, and the wall carvings are superb. 

​Kondhane caves were first discovered by Vishnu Shastri in 1850. Kondhane, Bhaja and Karla are caves that are located around Lonavale. In fact, Dr. D. J Wilson in his writings mentions that the name Lonavala may be corruption of Lenavali – or the grove of caves
The stupa is in a damaged condition, and one can see large rock pieces on the floor that could have been part of the roof. A large part of this damage is presumably due to severe earthquakes in the Pune region that occurred between 1752 to 1812 
The whole portico-area is carved to imitate a multi storeyed building with balconies and windows and sculptured men and women who observed the scene below. This created the appearance of an ancient Indian mansion. The carvings are truly exquisite, with clearly visible features such as the garments, weapons and ornaments they wore, as well as peaceful happy expressions on their faces.

​Its simply amazing – I was very impressed.
We soaked in the place for a while, and then made our way down. It would be really nice to come here on a weekday, when there would be less crowds.
It was a pretty small trek, but then it was a longer ride so it was a Sunday well spent. 

​After the trek to Visapur, Delzad was very enthu about doing more trekking.  I was also enthu about doing some long cycling, and so I thought of Karnala fort. Its close to the highway, so easily accessible on cycle – and it was quite a nice trek – not too easy, not too difficult.
We decided to go on a Friday, so as to avoid the crowds. I would leave early on cycle, and Delzad would follow later in the Scorpio and we would meet at Karnala.
Home to Karnala was about 45 KM, which was not too bad but definitely not a pushover either. It would be important to focus on proper nutrition to prevent cramping. I carbed up in dinner, and carried some electrolytes and a couple of chapattis.
It took about 3 hours, and the only unpleasant part was the disgusting state of the Bombay Goa road – more holes than road.  It was a nice climb up the Karnala ghat at the end of the ride and the Police guy at the gate was very impressed when he learnt that I had cycled all the way from Mumbai.
Delzad timed the driver perfectly and rolled up a few minutes after  me, and we loaded the cycle into the Scorpio and locked it. 

​Other people also seemed to have had the same idea as we did, of coming on a Friday to beat the crowd, and they created a crowd of their own.
There was a corporate group which was assembling there, so we decided to leave fast and go ahead of them. But after a bit of a climb, we ran into a group of school children.
‘How many children are there?’ I asked an organiser
‘120 children...and 45 parents too’ he answered glumly.
Shit! No way I am going to get stuck being 165 chattering children! I engaged turbo mode and climbed like a demon and zoomed up the trail – and overtook all 165 of them! Simply left them behind in my dust!
And once I was ahead of all of them, it was so incredibly quiet and pleasant. It was like being in heaven! 

​The Karnala fort has the most incredible setting – it sits right on top of the spire of the hill and looks like a fairy fort. Its an ancient fort – built about 1200- 1400 AD, and commanded the hill passes of Raigad district.  It was built probably by the Devagiri Yadavas in the 1200s and further fortified by tughlaq rulers in the 1300s – which makes it really old – pre mughal. As the area was ruled by various dynasties, it was controlled by Gujarat sultans, then Nizam shah of Ahmednagar, then the Portuguese (who were really powerful back in the day), then the Marathas under Shivaji, then Mughals under Aurangzeb, then back to the Peshwas, until the British borg assimilated everyone.
Now  the time of forts has passed, and the remains sleep. The hill has been declared a bird sanctuary, and there is only peace and quiet.  The fort commands an awesome view all over the surrounding area, and you can see all the way to the sea. In fact you can see the forts of  Prabalgad, Manikgad, Haji Malang, Chanderi fort, Matheran, Sankshi fort,Dronagiri fort, and Rajmachi from the top – which is pretty awesome.
There is a magnificent stone pillar right at the top – a natural basalt formation, its the remains of the lava flow from when it was a volcano. And magically, there are huge natural water tanks right at the base of the basalt pillar. Brave people do rock climbing on it, I believe – but obviously that is not possible in the rains. 

​The fort was incredible, and I climbed right to the top to avoid the crowds which would follow, and enjoyed almost half an hour of peace before the sweaty and reproachful face of Delzad appeared at the base of the fort.  He had tried to engage turbo mode as well, but ran out of gas and was forced to march right in the middle of the gang of children.  Poor fellow, he was completely fagged out and went to sleep at the top for a bit. 

​We decided to climb down before the kids did, and enjoyed a quiet and peaceful walk down and had an excellent lunch in a nearby hotel and then drove back home in the Scorpio. This ‘bike up, trek and drive back’ is an excellent idea. 

​This Sunday I decided to avoid the cycle ride and do a trek instead. This was because Bawa -  the actual owner of the cycle, from whom I have ‘borrowed’ it (wink wink)-  requested me to go for a trek with him. As both of us could not fit on one cycle, we decided to drop the cycle and do only the trek.
‘But where shall we go?’ he asked.
‘Don’t worry re.’ I replied ‘I shall consider and decide on the day’  and spent Saturday evening watching ‘Deadpool’ and drinking a lot of Single malt whisky.
On Sunday morning we met up at Vashi, and had an excellent breakfast at a roadside idli wada stall along the highway. After reading ‘Trek the Sahyadris’ and consulting with SHE-WHO-MUST-BE-OBEYED I decided on Visapur fort.
Visapur fort had many things going for it – it was easily approachable by the expressway and NH4,  we could bypass Lonavla city and avoid the crowds, I knew the way as it was close to Lohagad where I had been several times, it was a fort I had been wanting to visit for a long time, it would be much less crowded than the nearby Lohagad, and we could visit Sheetal da dhaba for an excellent lunch after the trek!
The easily findable part of it was crucial – as we were two navigation challenged people, who had managed to get lost and take the wrong turn on a single lane highway in Ladakh, and had reached all the way to Tanglangla pass before we realised that we were going the wrong way.
And sure enough, here also I managed to miss the turn to Malavali station inspite of having been there umpteen times, and had to take a U turn to get back on the right track. We drove past Bhaje caves and up the ghat and found the turnoff to Visapur. We parked the car there, and started walking. 

​Visapur and Lohagad are twin forts which guard the Mandavi river and the approach to Pune. Out of the two, Lohagad is much older, being in existence since the time of the Satavhanas – which would make it about 2000 years old.
Visapur  was built much later – in 1713 – in the reign of Balaji Vishwanath, the first Peshwa.  Unfortunately, the Maratha empire did not last very long after that, and the British conquered the fort in 1818, using 380 european and 800 native soldiers  and a battering train summoned from konkan, artillery from Chakan and 2 british battalions.  On 4th march 1818 Visapur was occupied, and the British bombarded Lohagad fort from there and took over that as well.
After that, they blew up the whole fort with artillery and dynamited the entrances so that it would be unusable to the Marathas ever again. So there is nothing remaining in the fort but some walls and few ruined buildings.
Now, two and a half centuries after that day, the fort is so forgotten that even finding a path to the fort is difficult. If not for directions by the villagers and the arrows painted by trekking groups, you cannot even find the way up. We walked right past the turn and went on for quite some time before the villagers turned us back. 

​The stairway to the fort has been completely destroyed, and it becomes a waterfall in the rains. It was great fun to climb up that. 

​We reached the top and we were the only people there. It was an amazing feeling to wander around the deserted and desolate top of the fort. It was green and rainy and foggy – an absolute paradise. 

​After exploring the top for some time, we made our way down the waterfall again, and due to the rains the water flow was much more. It was great fun to make our way down that way. 

​We were completely soaked when we got down, and it was great to change out of wet clothes and get into the car. And ho – now for Sheetal dhaba and amazing food!
Bawa was so tired that he fell asleep in the car immediately in the return journey and snored all the way back to Vashi. 

​It’s a Sunday – Let’s ride! Its the monsoon – Lets trek! 
Lets do both- Bike and hike!
I tried to get She-who-must-be-obeyed to come for a trek, but she was still traumatised by the huge crowds at Tikona last Sunday and refused to come.
‘It’s a Sunday, and I am going to sleep!’ she announced. ‘I have to get up everyday at 6 to send your kid to school, and I need a break once a week!’
‘My kid?’ I said ‘I thought it was your kid...’  I broke off as a dangerous light came into her eyes.
‘If your stupid alarm goes off at 5.30 in the morning and wakes me up...I will find you...and I will kill you...after I finish cutting you!’
So I decided to go for a ride instead, and went through Ashutosh Bijoor’s blog for places to go to. I saw this post about his ride to Uran fort, and I was fascinated. I knew nothing about Uran except that it houses the new (well, not so new now) dockyard of Mumbai – the Jawaharlal Nehru Port trust – and is the place where millions and millions of trucks go to.
The idea of it being a historical place, with an ancient fort, fascinated me. I had to see this.
On Sunday I woke up bright and early (with a silent vibrating alarm, to save my life) and set out for Uran – about 45 KM away, via Vashi and Palm beach road.
I had attempted to go to Vashi earlier once, but I had been really scared by the very fast heavy traffic. It had been early in the year, so it was quite dark in the morning so visibility was an issue. But now I learnt that the trick is to avoid using the flyover, so that you can stick safely to the side of the road and out of harm’s way. 
I crossed Vashi bridge for the first time on cycle, and was very amused to see the many people fishing from the bridge.  They were very poor people and it was really basic fishing – they didn’t have a fancy pole or anything – just a plastic string and a hook. And there were so many of them! I wondered if they actually caught anything or this was just a way to get out of the house and away from the wife.
I turned on to Palm beach road, and really enjoyed that part of the ride. Nice wide roads, green and scenic, not much traffic – it was fun to ride on. I passed the huge Seawoods lake, and was amused to see a replica of Rodin’s ‘Thinker’ out there. I had passed by this place a million times, but had never noticed it before. 

​I turned off the Palm beach road on to the Uran Panvel road, and the road quality went down sharply. The heavy truck traffic and dirty potholed road made riding a bit of a challenge, and I had to be extra careful on waterlogged roads. You never knew how deep the hole would be, and going into a deep hole at high speed was just asking for a toss.
But it was not unbearably bad, and I got through it and entered Uran. I asked a policeman where Dronagiri fort was, and he gave me a contemptuous look.
‘There is no fort here – there is only a hill called Dronagiri’
I shrugged it off – I knew from experience that people didn’t know about the riches in their backyard.  
I followed the cop’s and Google maps directions and made my way to the hill, and found myself looking at quite a big hill. Hoo boy – trekking was going to happen here!
I had forgotten my bike lock at home, and so I asked a local if I could park my bike at his house, and he graciously agreed. He asked me where I had come from, and was flabbergasted when I told him that I had come from Mumbai. 
How long did it take me?
 Three hours – I replied, and he was even more shocked.
It takes 2 hours by ST bus!
That’s because ST bus makes many stops – I tried to soothe him by my explanation – I came non stop.
How long would it take me to climb to the fort? I asked.  45 min to an hour, he replied.
Hmm. That’s a proper trek.
I set up through the village and they pointed me on to the right path. It was small and nondescript, and certainly did not look like it was heading anywhere. I would have missed it if not for their help.
As soon as I cleared the village settlements, I entered into the magical world of the mountain. It was green, and verdant and calm and quiet and simply amazing.
And in sharp contra-distinction to last week’s crowd fest, I was the only person on this mountain.
The voluntary trekkers groups do a lot of good work in the hills, and a group had posted a sign board on the trail giving information about this fort. 

​It explained that this area and port – now called Uran – was known in ancient times as Dronagiri. In those days the village of Uran was enclosed in fort walls for protection, and some of these walls are still visible today. The name ‘Mora’ is mentioned in the records of the Satvahana kings, and there are records that the Chalukyan king, Pulakeshin had annexed this village and its capital of Gharapuri. Its possible that this fort was built around that time – which would make it about 2000 years old!
The Portuguese conquered this fort in 1530 (500 years ago!) and a padre called Antonio de Porto built a church here in 1565. It was conquered by Adilshahi forces in the 16th century and then later by the British as it was strategically important for them to have this fort and dock so close to Bombay.  The Marathas under Manaji Angre conquered the fort in 1739.
Because this hill oversees strategic locations like the ONGC terminal and JNPT, this hill is technically a restricted area and there is a nice yellow sign for you. 

​I started the climb, and followed the arrows put there by the trekker groups. Good thing they were there, as there were a lot of confusing little paths everywhere. Combine that with my world famous sense of direction and I would probably be there still if not for those arrows.

​It was a beautiful route, punctuated by streams and and hill turmeric flowers, and soon I was at the entrance of the fort – the rear entrance presumably – as it was a small stone archway rather than imposing battlements. 

There was a CISF hut there and I went there and tapped on the window, startling the two guards who were relaxing in their banyans. I explained that I was checking out the fort and just wanted to keep them informed of my presence. They invited me in and offered me a seat and some water, and we had a pleasant chat  where they presumably checked me out and were assured that I was harmless. Seeing a trekker in cycling shorts and helmet is pretty weird, so I explained to them that I had biked from Mumbai and hiked up the hill and they were suitably impressed. Though of course, they were army people, so this would be probably just a light warm up for them.
And like most people, they were curious why I would come so far and spend so much energy to see ruined buildings.
Just beyond the watchpost were the ruins of  the Portuguese church - the Chapel of Our Lady of Penha of Karanja. It was a very evocative ruin, and enjoyed soaking in the poignancy of the place, standing there in the light rain, all alone – looking at the ruins of the faith of foreign people from far away lands. I wonder if there is any memory in Portugal at all about these lands which their forefathers fought so hard for, and made so much money from, and affected so deeply in their quest to spread their faith. 

​There was a group of dogs chilling out at the guard post, and they decided that I was their new best best friend and they decided to join me for the walk. 

​I saw some ancient fort walls, and a little way away saw the ruins of the main doorway. Not much was left of it, but someone had rescued the Ganesha from the arch and covered it with the holy ochre ‘shendoor’.  

​I followed the arrows up the hill and found a Vetal temple – I love these temples, they are protoplasmic faith points. There is no idol, no carving, no temple – just a rock which has power because it is covered in ochre. Awesome! 

​Followed more arrows, and found myself at an ancient water tank. 

​The arrows ended out here, but I followed a small path and came out at the top of the hill. There would have been an awesome sea view from here, but ONGC people planted trees out here and they have blocked out all the view.
I met a farmer family up there, who were rather startled to see me, but immediately relaxed when I waved at them, and spoke to them in Marathi. They shared their chakli and coconut with me, and told me that they had come to leave their bulls here.
‘Leave bulls?’ I asked
Yes – the ploughing was done, and now there was no need for the bulls. The bulls can have a nice holiday up here as there was plenty of grass and water, and the farmer also has no hassle of taking care of them. They would come down on their own in a couple of months. 

This looks like a Bear's paw print!!!

​ I chilled out on the top for a few minutes, and then turned back. I crossed the vetal temple, main door and church and said goodbye to the CISF people. Bye bye – they said – be careful going down – it’s raining.
And by Jove it was – I loved it! It had apparently been raining dogs and cats in Mumbai, and now the cloud front had reached Uran.  It poured down, and it felt amazing! Sahyadri rains are the best.  
As I neared the village, I met some people coming up – there were four of them and a goat. We looked at each other in puzzlement.  ‘Anybody else up there?’ they asked, and I  said no.
I was wondering why people would take goats up here, when I saw another 3 people – slightly older. They suddenly sat down and said ‘Man, I need a drink!’ and pulled out a bottle of whisky and opened it.
Eh?
Then I saw a whole line of villagers trudging up the path. Some were carrying large cooking vessels, some were carrying live chickens, some were carrying sacks of cooking material.
‘Whats this?’ I asked. ‘A party for Gatari?’ We were about to enter the chaturmaas – the holy four months where Hindus don’t eat non-veg or drink alcohol – particularly in the month of Shravan. So, on the day before shravan, people have a massive blowout party where they freak out on booze and flesh.
‘Its our village tradition’ he replied ‘We have a goddess temple up the hill, and we will have a celebration there.’
Oh wow. Sounds like fun. Party!
I came down and  collected my bike, which was still safe (!) and decided to check if the ferry was operational. After 45 KM ride and hike up the mountain, I was not in the mood to cycle 45 km back.
I cycled down to Mora jetty and YES!! The ferry was working! I was worried that it might be closed due to the rain. 

​They charged me Rs 66 for the ticket and Rs 10 for the cycle and in an hour we were at Bhaucha dhakka, and it was the home stretch.  They are smartening up Bhaucha dhakka now, with new tiles and glass and a new touch. Lets hope that they develop the coastal ferry network a lot more. Ideally whole of Bombay and surrounding areas should be connected by ferry. 

​It was about a 20 KM ride back, and home sweet home.
That was a good day – Bike and Hike!