Crisis at Chanderi - Part 2

This post is dedicated to the memory of Dr.S.R.Srinivasan

(27 April 1926 - 16 Oct 2012)

(Fondly known as Appa by all those who knew him and benefited from his cheerful optimism and indefatigable spirit. And who admired him for his awesome artistic talents.)

The village of Chinchavali woke up to a swirl of dust as Kamal's Mitsubishi Lancer ground to a halt. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the plume and created a radial pattern in the air as we got down from the car. Tanaji and Tukaram were soon summoned and Shridhar set off with Tanaji up the normal route whilst I detoured to the left with Tukaram. Shridhar was carrying a portable battery operated megaphone like the ones that policemen use for crowd control and he hoped that shouting through this device would be a more effective way of reaching Franklyn and Appa (as the senior Srinivasan, Shridhar's father, had always been referred to by his loving family).

I headed for the place where the gully which descends from the col between Mahasmal and Chanderi finally debouches onto flat ground. Tukaram and I entered the coolness of the forest and began to ascend slowly, looking out for the slightest hint of human passage. It was quiet in there, the dappled light filtered through the green canopy and lit up patches of clear water among the rocks and boulders. The morning birdsong was a soothing balm to my anxious mind and heart.

Suddenly, I spotted a piece of fabric draped over a boulder : it looked like a part of a trouser from a distance. I ran towards it, filled with hope. Perhaps Franklyn had ripped a part of his trousers and left it on this rock as a clue to their whereabouts. On closer examination, however, it turned out to be a faded piece of  fabric that had obviously been lying here for a couple of seasons, its threads bleached by the heat of many summers. Disappointed, we trudged on upwards.

Part of the gully in September 1985.

As I prepared to hop on to a boulder, I noticed a footprint on the wet sand below. It was clearly only a couple of hours old and hope re-surfaced in my heart. If Appa and Franklyn had somehow managed to spend the night and were now heading up the gully to rejoin the route that they must have missed on their way down the evening before, then obviously they could not be too far up ahead! I urged Tukaram to hasten and we surged ahead and upwards, all the time yelling out their names. Only the monotonous droning of the cicadas answered us.

September, 1985. A time for lush grasses and wildflowers.

Soon we were at the junction of the trail and the gully and still there was no sign of our missing friends. In a couple of minutes, we met Shridhar and Tanaji who had come up from the other side. No, they said, they had seen no hopeful signs at all. This was crazy, I told myself; how could Appa and Franklyn have just disappeared into thin air in such a small area? Shridhar looked really worried now, but he kept his composure. I told him that they should descend the way we had come up and look at all the possible deviations and detours that could be possible from the gully. Shridhar nodded and he and Tanaji soon disappeared down the gully and completely out of cellphone range.

Tukaram and I continued to comb the woods on either side of the plateau. About ten minutes later I walked across the yellowing grass and ducked behind a row of bushes to answer nature's call. The sun shone hot and bright out of a blue sky. I was pulling up my trousers when the cellphone rang. I fumbled to get hold of it and pressed the "Answer" button, my pants sliding down to my ankles in a gentle heap. It was Kamal.

The plateau below Chanderi. Sept 1985.

"Aloke, call off the search.....Appa and Franklyn are here with me!"

Consumed by relief, it took me a little while to refocus on the business of putting my pants on again. I yelled out across to Tukaram, now almost out of earshot somewhere in the forest. But he heard me and soon we were striding rapidly down the trail to Chinchavali. Neither Kamal nor I could raise Shridhar's phone as he was deep in the gully beyond the reach of any signal.

When I reached the village, a small crowd had gathered around the little shed which acted as a primary school. Inside, Franklyn sat on the floor looking as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He looked tired and exhausted and the sweat had created multiple streaks on his dusty skin. Appa sat next to him, a little caked blood drying on his forehead from a bruise, also looking tired, but still cheerful. I hugged them with a mixture of relief and joy and waited for the story. Franklyn filled me on the details.

Sept 1985

The evening before, they had waited for us till 5 pm as agreed upon. When we did not show up, they began to walk back on the trail. Soon they had come to the gully. Instead of crossing the gully over to the other side to pick up the trail again, Franklyn made an error and began to descend the gulch, thinking that the trail resumed again after a little loss of elevation. As they kept descending and there was no sign of any path, he realised that he had made a mistake and decided to reascend. It had become quite dark in the gully by now and clambering over the huge boulders was not an easy task for Appa. At one point Appa asked Franklyn to slow down and informed him that he had a slight heart condition, so he had to be careful not to stress it too much! This almost stopped Franklyn in his tracks.

Upper ramparts of Chanderi. Feb 1980.

Immediately he began to scout around for a place to spend the night. He found a level piece of ground just off the gully and decided that they should bivouac. There was a little pile of chopped wood lying in one corner of the clearing: obviously some local woodcutter had gathered it to take down later. They helped themselves to some of it and Franklyn lit a fire. He must have thanked his lucky stars that he did enjoy the occasional cigarette and so carried a box of matches with him! Thus began the long, long night. By some  trick of geography, they had happened on a spot where they could not hear our frenzied and hoarse cries later in the night. Nor did their little fire send out any sign of its existence and could not be seen from anywhere.

Though they had some food with them, they spent the whole night without eating. When Franklyn suggested to Appa that he should eat something, Appa responded by saying that he was not hungry. This put Franklyn in a dilemma : how could he eat when Appa wouldn't?

When the morning lit up their surroundings, Franklyn began to lead them back to the trail up the gully. It was his footprint that I had chanced upon during our search. I was barely an hour or even less behind them.....and Shridhar must have taken a slightly different route up as he had missed them as well! It was an incredible case of bypassing each other without any knowledge or awareness..... it just goes to illustrate that even on a fairly small area comprised of hills and valleys and ravines and woodland, multiple parties can easily get separated from each other and never meet up again!

Summit of Chanderi - Feb 1980. L to R : Kerman, Raj, Raghu , Resident Dog of Vangini Railway Station.

As he rounded the last hump that hid Chinchavali from view, Franklyn heaved a sigh of relief. He turned around to give the good news to Appa, who had been lagging behind for some time now. To his horror, he saw that Appa was lying motionless on the trail. Remembering what Appa had told him about his heart condition the evening before, he raced back up the path. Fortunately, it was not Appa's heart, but his toe that was the problem. He had merely stumbled as he stubbed a toe against a small roughness on the ground and fallen on to the trail. The blood on his face came from a bruise on his forehead which had made contact with the ground. Franklyn helped him to sit up and told him to stay put while he proceeded to the village for help.

Kerman (right) stands at one end of the summit ridge while I contemplate the view from further away. Feb 1980.

He looked around the deserted square and saw Kamal's bright red car and thought nothing of it. Kamal was leaning against the car, keeping his fingers crossed and waiting for some word from either Shridhar or me. Kamal and Franklyn had never met before and the latter could be forgiven for thinking that the red car belonged to someone who had driven to Chinchavali on some other business. Franklyn entered the village and asked someone if they had seen the Qualis from the day before, and the people in it. The villager's jaws fell and he looked incredulously at Franklyn and blurted out : "That guy in the red car..... his friends have been looking for you all night and all morning!"

Franklyn organised some people to help Appa down to the village square and thus ended an ordeal that none of us will ever forget.

Appa agreed to have his photo taken in spite of the harrowing experience he had just been through.

Half an hour later, Shridhar and Tanaji arrived. They had had absolutely no knowledge of the happy ending till a few minutes earlier when we could reach Shridhar on his cellphone when they emerged from the depths of the gully.

In a short while we were on our way to Govandi where Shyama was waiting in their home, ready to welcome her father-in-law back. I sat in the front with Kamal. Shridhar and Franklyn and Appa occupied the back seat. Suddenly, Shridhar gave Franklyn a warm hug of thanks for having brought his father safe and sound through what must have been a most harrowing experience. Shridhar wept tears of gratitude and I looked away, swallowing the lump in my throat as the red Mitsubishi Lancer turned left onto the tarred road leading to Badlapur.

Appa - as I shall always remember him.

Growing wild on Chanderi's slopes. Feb 1980.