This wasn't Lemon tree was it we thought as we checked into Shreyas. It was a utilitarian and basic lodging close to Deccan Gymkhana the heart of Pune and close to Chitale Bandhu who sold authentic Bakarwadi :) We were close to something the folks back home wanted :) So we settled down for the night with the consolation that finding another hotel this late in the night was difficult weighing in too. Oh well we are out the whole day and this was ok to sleep in was the train of thought the next morning and we stayed put :) "No toast?" we queried the waiter at breakfast. "No mam the toaster is broken". "Make it on Tawa, we do it all the time" a friend suggested. You can't beat a housewife :) We got our toasts :) "The Dirda has too much garlic in it" a friend pushed it away and picked up the Poha. Fortified with fresh juice we set out for Sinhagad.
Kadkvasala dam was full and all we could think of was Jayalalita and her demand for Cauvery water from a dam that was showing its dried bottom :( The sky was a dull grey and drizzled intermittently. Umbrella in hand we climbed out of the car into the slush at Sinhagad fort and stood gaping. Visibility was what ten feet and where was the fort? All we saw was a hazy silhouette of an arch towards which people Walked. Umbrellas unfurled we followed them. A friend lent me her wide brimmed hat, the official photographer could not take pictures holding an umbrella :) The path was all wet and it rained lightly as we floated through the mist. We were not the only ones to have chosen the wrong day for a visit. Hooded College students on a trip clicking ghostlike selfies dotted the fort. Was that Karna Kundala (in Kannada) flowers? We posed for a picture in a bend. Where were the walls, the turrets, the ramparts? We peered into the dense mist. Were we in mist covered marshes of Thomas Hardy? Was that a turret? Far away a hazy structure rose. Not happy :( "Try our Mirchi Bhaji" a voice said close by. Huddling from the rains a couple of women sat under a plastic makeshift tent with a wok on a stove. No we said and continued walking. The road forked ahead and a group of kids took a diversion at a rain drenched board. Sinhagad has nice walkways I thought. We continued straight ahead. We were looking for the Samadhi of Tanaji Malusare the lion of Sinhagad.
Sinhagad Fort Entrance | Cannon |
"Shivaji called him the Lion of Sinhagad" a boyish voice in Marathi rose above the mist and we joined the group listening to a boy of twelve singing a ballad in Marathi. He was concluding the story of Tanaji. Where was the English guide my colleague had met? I asked a gentleman as they began to disperse. “There is only this boy” he said. The guide was going along with them. We wanted to hear the story but in English. He nominated his younger brother of ten years to narrate it to us in Hindi. Tanaji Malusare was at his son's wedding when he gets a call from Shivaji. Immediately he set out and vowed to win Sinhagad for Shivaji. He and his men hid below the fort in darkness the balladeer sang. What is stage fear? The child's voice rose and fell effortlessly as we listened amazed. In the darkness Tanaji threw a lizard on the fort wall and it scurried up. Tanaji climbed up the wall holding on to the rope tied to it as did the other men. They caught the enemy by surprise and slaughtered them. The fort was won but Tanaji died. Shivaji arrived at the scene and cradling his body bemoans "Gad ala pan Sinha gela("although the fort was captured a lion was lost"). The boy stopped and turned towards the bust of Tanaji. Slowly we moved our gaze from the young boy to the bust of Tanaji. Tanaji would have been proud of this boy. "Can you show us where they climbed the fort?" I asked. He nodded. I followed him. We climbed up the short wall of the Samadhi and walked through a small path. It was just the two of us on that road. His teacher had asked him to tell the story of Tanaji to visitors. He thought we were teachers from a school. When we said we weren't he was disappointed. He stopped at a breach in the fort. I looked down. The fog rose up to meet me. It blanketed everything and I could see nothing. Was this really the place? Didn't think so. A couple slowly came out of a tent close by and looked at us curiously. What if they pushed me down that breach? I shivered in fright in Tanaji's fort. I turned and walked swiftly back and rejoined the group.
Tanaji Malusare's Samadhi
Ballad
"Give me a sec I will find out what that building is " I said as we sat eating hot bhajis. We had succumbed to it on the way back. "What is it?" I pointed at the board "Siva museum". The young guy manning the door lazily looked up and muttered "Shivaji's battle gear is displayed inside". Oh Siva is not God Shiva but God Shivaji. I nodded enlightened. Maharashtra was and is still Shivaji's bastion :) We walked back to the car and en route caught sight of the curved wall of the fort. Finally a view of the fort :) Unlike Daulatabad fort this one is not being promoted by the Govt we thought as we drove past Kadakvasala dam towards Pune.
Kadakvasala Dam
"We would like a Maharashtrian thali please" we said. "We don't have it “the waiter replied. "You could get them down the road he said" as we rose to leave. "You will get it in Naividya" the lady pointed and we hurried to it. "No madam we don't have it" the waiter replied in Naividya. "What do you have?" we asked famished and were served a south Indian snacks:( Pune didn't have Darshinis like in Bangalore :)
Naividya Hotel
We walked amazed through the beautiful wooden doorway into the pavilion inside the Kelkar Museum. The soft blue lights lit up the carvings. This piece was one among the numerous beautifully carved wooden windows, balconies and doors displayed inside. Gods, mythological stories, flowers and animals all told their stories on this canvas. I was mistaken when I thought wood was used rampantly only in Kerala. A huge wooden Yaali stood beside a door scaring everyone. It reminded me of the stone Yaalis in temples. The Dowry chest is big enough to fit the bride herself I thought as we gaped at it. Pots and Pans of various sizes and shapes, ornamented and unadorned, betel nut cutters in so many shapes, lamps, and different types of plates all sat behind glass cases. A Charaka caught my eye and I walked up to it. This was the first time I was seeing a real one :) A Horse driven carriage stood waiting for its long gone queen :) Resplendent Paithani Saris of the Queens were juxtaposed with royal dresses. The Peshwas court with Warli paintings and antique chandeliers was quaint. How cute this is we thought as we peered at the miniature God Rama seated with his wife, brothers and Hanuman. Paintings of Royalty adorned the walls and toys dressed as them stood inside glass cases. Everything was meticulously curated and neatly labelled. How did one man collect so many things! Awesome! "I think it is worthwhile to donate antique stuff to museums, it gives so much pleasure looking at them" I remarked as we stepped out.
Wooden Door | Yaali |
Carriage for the Queen | Paithani sari |
So this is Shaniwar Wada I thought looking at the rain drenched stone door. I climbed the huge stone stage opposite it and took a couple of pictures and we walked in. We had waited long to see this and had arrived in time for the Light and Sound show. When does it start we asked as we collected our tickets. Oh there is no show on Tuesdays he said. "But the website doesn't mention this" we grumbled dejected. We had planned our itinerary meticulously to fit this in. "Please update your website" somebody suggested miffed as we entered. Before us lay a green courtyard enclosed by high walls on all sides. We walked past the legend to the stone foundation the only remnant of a massive fire which destroyed the Palace. Another wooden Palace gutted like the one in Mysore I thought. People with umbrellas stood under a pavilion on one side as we walked over the foundation and peeped into a defunct fountain. Well manicured lawns carpeted the entire courtyard including the non existent rooms inside the gutted Palace. We walked back to the main entrance and climbed up to take in the panorama of the Palace turned park :)
Shaniwar Wada | Palace turned Park |
"This is Mastani Darwaja" Ankit pointed at the small door embedded in the wall of Shaniwar Wada. A picture of the gorgeous Deepika Padakone as Mastani in the movie Baji Rao Mastani floated before us. The sixteen year old Peshwa Narayan Rao was murdered here and his ghost roams the Palace calling out for help even now Ankit said mischievously as he narrated a piece of history. We were taking the heritage walk by Yo toursand Ankit was a good story teller. What is it about stories? Even adults fall for it. We walked out through the streets of Pune and stood before Lal Mahalthe palace where Shivaji grew up. Historically, the Lal Mahal is famous for an encounter between Shivaji and ShaistaKhan in which Shivaji cut off the latter’s fingers when he was trying to escape from the window of the Lal Mahal. Diagonally opposite was a tall building in the European style with no Chajjas. It was built by the English to look into the Shaniwar Wada. It towered a few feet away from the Wada and was definitely a good place to spy from :) Yo tours is a start up and we were its hundredth customer. It was inspired by Heritage walks taken by Ankit in European countries. My profession had kicked in at the word start up. What enterprising young people I thought as we walked towards Kasba Ganapati. We stood opposite the Dagdu Seth Ganapati and took in the temple. We would come back to it that night. Huge and benign Kasba Ganapati sat right on the road and lorded over it. This is the first Ganapati in Pune and built by Shivaji's mother Jijabai. Ganapatis dotted the landscape before Lok Manya Tilak leveraged them in the freedom struggle. "I coaxed the Fadnis family to open up their temple to the public” Ankit said as we stood in front of the ornately carved wooden temple. It nestled inside a courtyard flanked by the houses of the Fadnis family and is their private temple. The black wooden temple was very beautiful but closed. "Vishrambaug Wada" was the residence of the last Peshwa, Bajirao II until the English took it over. We admired Mastani's durbar and salaamed in mock seriousness at Baji Rao's Durbar. The map of Pune as it grew was the last pit stop before we bid good bye to Ankit and his friend. Their tips only revenue model has to change soon I thought as we walked away.
Kasba Ganapati | With Ankit at Fadnis family temple |
This is my hundredth Blog :) Thanks everyone for having journeyed with me. I have fought the demon urging me to write [ George Orwell] and caught up on life briefly. Hence the delay with this particular blog. Walk with me and we will journey to different places both within and without. One of these days I am going to read Bhyrappa's "Why do I write" :)
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