Crisis at Chanderi - Part 1
The sweat cooled off my shirt as we descended the gully between Chanderi and Mhasmal. I was glad for the respite from the heat of that November day in 2003. It was the first day of the month, but it had felt like a humid and sticky summer day all afternoon. The sun was now well hidden from us as we came down on the east side of the Chanderi hill and the light was quickly fading. Behind me I could hear Shreyas and Shruti and Shyama and Shridhar negotiating the trail : the sound of shoes slithering on the scree, the crack of twigs as they snapped beneath someone's weight, the rustle of dry leaves as tired shoulders brushed past, the occasional "ouch!" as one of them stubbed a toe.
I reached the point where the trail crosses a dry gully to the other side. It was almost dark and very quiet. I could barely see the pink ribbon someone had tied to a low hanging branch of a tree as a trail marker and which I had noticed and filed away in my memory on the way up. Even though I had been up and down Chanderi more than a dozen times over the years and in all seasons, it is always a good idea to keep adding new information to your database.
There was no sign of Franklyn and Srinivasan. I told myself that this was a good sign: Franklyn had obviously stuck to the plan to start walking back to the village of Chinchavli before darkness set in. We had left him in charge of Shridhar's father, the 77 year old Srinivasan who had accompanied us in the morning up to the point where the trail starts to ascend directly up the gully. Srinivasan had been in good spirits all day, telling us about his days in the Boy Scouts movement in the town of Salem in South India. He had been a Scout Master back then, though now his exercise was limited to his daily walk around Acharya Nagar in Govandi! Srinivasan is a wonderful man, full of life and enthusiasm, an excellent artist whose portraits of Mother Teresa and other luminaries like Mahatma Gandhi, Albrecht Durer and a rare one of Einstein laughing, had left me in awe of his talent.
Video link :
http://youtu.be/g4-A_YLe-8E
As complete darkness began to envelop the trees and grass on the plateau we were on, I switched on the sole headlamp that we carried between the four of us. The LEDs cast a white glow on the path. I would walk a few steps, pause and turn around to light the way for the other four. In spite of this, Shyama succeeded in stubbing her toes and twisting her ankles at least twice! The birds had fallen silent and the soothing sounds of the Indian forest as it settles down for the night began to lull us into a sense of serenity. I love the sensation of walking a hill trail at this time. Soon a half moon rose in the sky and enhanced the magic sensation.
The slope began to drop down towards Chinchavli and I flashed my headlamp in a staccato sequence to alert Franklyn and Prakash, the driver of the Toyota Qualis van that we had hired to bring us to the road head. For a long time there was no response, then the Qualis flashed its bright headlights twice. I sighed with relief. It had been a fairly long day and it would be nice to just settle down in the back seat and enjoy the ride back to Mumbai.
Prakash was standing next to his van. I could see that he was agitated. I asked him, "When did Franklyn and Srinivasan come down?"
"They are not here!" he exploded. I looked at him disbelievingly. This was not for real, I told myself.
"Are you sure?" I probed.
"Of course I am sure!", his tone now took on an aggressivee tone. "Look at the time!" he screamed at me. I glanced at my watch. It was 7:30 pm and complete darkness had enveloped the area. Thinking that perhaps this was some kind of a joke, I went to the back of the van and opened the rear door - Srinivasan had a playful nature and I thought that perhaps he was playing a prank on us! The van was completely empty. Shyama called out to her father - in - law in Tamil. There was no response. I yelled out, "Franklyn! Franklyn!" A deafening silence greeted us.
"I have to be back in Mumbai by 9 o'clock, I have a client for Pune at five in the morning!" That was Prakash, screaming behind my back.
I ignored him. The situation had the potential for becoming extremely grave : either Franklyn or Srinivasan could have fallen off the trail for some reason; one or both of them could be seriously hurt or even worse. They had obviously lost their way at some point and anything could have happened after that. Darkness had now set in completely. It was after 8pm.
Shridhar and I talked to some of the villagers and soon we had Tukaram and Tanaji organised to search the hill. Before setting off back up, we drove to the next village down the dirt road : it was possible that they could have inadvertently taken a fork in the trail and ended up at this village. But no, the people there assured us, no strangers had appeared in their little hamlet. Surprisingly, this village had a telephone, so we gave them Prakash's mobile number in case the pair turned up during the night. The cellphones that Shridhar and I were carrying did not have roaming facilities so we were handicapped. Back we went to Chinchavli.
Tukaram, Tanaji , Shridhar and I set off up the hill, calling out into the darkness at regular intervals, hoping one of the two missing persons would hear us and respond. We went up different forks in the trail, we made as much noise as we could, our throats became hoarse with the shouting. We went all the way back to where we had left the pair early in the afternoon. Still there was no sign of them. Only a mute silence echoed our frenzied yelling. It was almost midnight. We descended back to Chinchavli to find another uproar in progress.
Prakash, the driver of the Qualis, had thrown Shyama and the children out of his vehicle; he said he was going back to Mumbai forthwith because his next client had paid an advance for the early morning trip to Pune. He berated Shyama for taking "an old man into the jungle". Shyama was in tears.
I tried to reason with Prakash. "We will compensate you for whatever loss you are incurring," I told him. "Let me talk to your boss and sort it out with him". He would have none of it.
"For God's sake, Prakash, this is an emergency....we must stay the night here and conduct another search at first light".
"Emergency? " he shot back, "this is not an emergency!"
I could not believe what I was hearing. "Do you know that either of them could be dead or dying at this very moment? They could have fallen, broken their limbs, lying bleeding and unconscious perhaps? You don't think this is an emergency?!" I was incensed. A couple of years ago I had even seen the pug marks and scat of a leopard on one of the trails, but I kept this information to myself.
Prakash stood there unmoved. It was close to 1 am.
Shyama, Shridhar and I held a small conference. We decided that the best thing to do at this moment was to go back to their home in Govandi, dismiss the wretched Prakash, and come back for a further search as soon as possible in the morning.
We bundled Shruti and Shreyas into the Qualis and drove off to Govandi in silence. In the still of the night I could not help wondering how a small day hike had turned into something whose possible outcomes weighed heavily on our minds. Srinivasan was a fit 77 year old retired engineer who had a very alert mind and at any given time would be working on various projects to keep himself busy and occupied. Though physically fairly fit, he did suffer from a minor heart condition. However, he had shown no signs of fatigue or undue stress that morning as we hiked up to the gully point. Franklyn had over two decades of hiking experience behind him, and this gave me hope. We reached the Nivas residence at 2:30 am.
Shridhar paid off Prakash, who left in a sullen mood in spite of being tipped an extra hundred rupees for the inconvenience we had caused him. I had a quick hot shower and went to sleep an hour later. Shyama did not sleep a wink.
Shridhar was up at 5 am and went off to a local hospital to see if he could organise a stretcher in case we needed one. He rustled up a portable battery operated loudspeaker that you could clip around your waist, we made up a medical kit, and Shyama called up Kamal, a friend of theirs. Kamal agreed to drive Shridhar and me to Chinchavli in his bright red Mitsubishi Lancer. He also alerted his friend in Panvel who runs an orthopaedic hospital and told him to standby with an ambulance if required. We grabbed a host of cellphones with roaming ability and quickly fortified ourselves with upma and tea.
Shyama would stay at home and act as the operations nerve centre, sitting by the home phone and in touch with my brother Niral and his wife Susan who had also called in and were wondering why a day hike had been delayed so much! Shridhar, Kamal and I could at the least call up Shyama in case our phones failed to communicate with each other due to the restrictions imposed by the terrain.
At 7 am on 2nd November 2003, the three of us set off for Chinchavli with a mixture of dread and hope in our hearts....
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| Shreyas |
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| Map by the late Arun Samant for Harish Kapadia's "Trek the Sahyadris" (5th Edition) The village of Chinchavli is spelt Chinchli on the map. |
I reached the point where the trail crosses a dry gully to the other side. It was almost dark and very quiet. I could barely see the pink ribbon someone had tied to a low hanging branch of a tree as a trail marker and which I had noticed and filed away in my memory on the way up. Even though I had been up and down Chanderi more than a dozen times over the years and in all seasons, it is always a good idea to keep adding new information to your database.
 |
| Shreyas descends the gully as the setting sun dabs a little pink on the clouds |
There was no sign of Franklyn and Srinivasan. I told myself that this was a good sign: Franklyn had obviously stuck to the plan to start walking back to the village of Chinchavli before darkness set in. We had left him in charge of Shridhar's father, the 77 year old Srinivasan who had accompanied us in the morning up to the point where the trail starts to ascend directly up the gully. Srinivasan had been in good spirits all day, telling us about his days in the Boy Scouts movement in the town of Salem in South India. He had been a Scout Master back then, though now his exercise was limited to his daily walk around Acharya Nagar in Govandi! Srinivasan is a wonderful man, full of life and enthusiasm, an excellent artist whose portraits of Mother Teresa and other luminaries like Mahatma Gandhi, Albrecht Durer and a rare one of Einstein laughing, had left me in awe of his talent.
 |
| Srinivasan takes a break |
As complete darkness began to envelop the trees and grass on the plateau we were on, I switched on the sole headlamp that we carried between the four of us. The LEDs cast a white glow on the path. I would walk a few steps, pause and turn around to light the way for the other four. In spite of this, Shyama succeeded in stubbing her toes and twisting her ankles at least twice! The birds had fallen silent and the soothing sounds of the Indian forest as it settles down for the night began to lull us into a sense of serenity. I love the sensation of walking a hill trail at this time. Soon a half moon rose in the sky and enhanced the magic sensation.
The slope began to drop down towards Chinchavli and I flashed my headlamp in a staccato sequence to alert Franklyn and Prakash, the driver of the Toyota Qualis van that we had hired to bring us to the road head. For a long time there was no response, then the Qualis flashed its bright headlights twice. I sighed with relief. It had been a fairly long day and it would be nice to just settle down in the back seat and enjoy the ride back to Mumbai.
Prakash was standing next to his van. I could see that he was agitated. I asked him, "When did Franklyn and Srinivasan come down?"
"They are not here!" he exploded. I looked at him disbelievingly. This was not for real, I told myself.
"Are you sure?" I probed.
"Of course I am sure!", his tone now took on an aggressivee tone. "Look at the time!" he screamed at me. I glanced at my watch. It was 7:30 pm and complete darkness had enveloped the area. Thinking that perhaps this was some kind of a joke, I went to the back of the van and opened the rear door - Srinivasan had a playful nature and I thought that perhaps he was playing a prank on us! The van was completely empty. Shyama called out to her father - in - law in Tamil. There was no response. I yelled out, "Franklyn! Franklyn!" A deafening silence greeted us.
"I have to be back in Mumbai by 9 o'clock, I have a client for Pune at five in the morning!" That was Prakash, screaming behind my back.
I ignored him. The situation had the potential for becoming extremely grave : either Franklyn or Srinivasan could have fallen off the trail for some reason; one or both of them could be seriously hurt or even worse. They had obviously lost their way at some point and anything could have happened after that. Darkness had now set in completely. It was after 8pm.
Shridhar and I talked to some of the villagers and soon we had Tukaram and Tanaji organised to search the hill. Before setting off back up, we drove to the next village down the dirt road : it was possible that they could have inadvertently taken a fork in the trail and ended up at this village. But no, the people there assured us, no strangers had appeared in their little hamlet. Surprisingly, this village had a telephone, so we gave them Prakash's mobile number in case the pair turned up during the night. The cellphones that Shridhar and I were carrying did not have roaming facilities so we were handicapped. Back we went to Chinchavli.
Tukaram, Tanaji , Shridhar and I set off up the hill, calling out into the darkness at regular intervals, hoping one of the two missing persons would hear us and respond. We went up different forks in the trail, we made as much noise as we could, our throats became hoarse with the shouting. We went all the way back to where we had left the pair early in the afternoon. Still there was no sign of them. Only a mute silence echoed our frenzied yelling. It was almost midnight. We descended back to Chinchavli to find another uproar in progress.
Prakash, the driver of the Qualis, had thrown Shyama and the children out of his vehicle; he said he was going back to Mumbai forthwith because his next client had paid an advance for the early morning trip to Pune. He berated Shyama for taking "an old man into the jungle". Shyama was in tears.
I tried to reason with Prakash. "We will compensate you for whatever loss you are incurring," I told him. "Let me talk to your boss and sort it out with him". He would have none of it.
"For God's sake, Prakash, this is an emergency....we must stay the night here and conduct another search at first light".
"Emergency? " he shot back, "this is not an emergency!"
I could not believe what I was hearing. "Do you know that either of them could be dead or dying at this very moment? They could have fallen, broken their limbs, lying bleeding and unconscious perhaps? You don't think this is an emergency?!" I was incensed. A couple of years ago I had even seen the pug marks and scat of a leopard on one of the trails, but I kept this information to myself.
Prakash stood there unmoved. It was close to 1 am.
Shyama, Shridhar and I held a small conference. We decided that the best thing to do at this moment was to go back to their home in Govandi, dismiss the wretched Prakash, and come back for a further search as soon as possible in the morning.
We bundled Shruti and Shreyas into the Qualis and drove off to Govandi in silence. In the still of the night I could not help wondering how a small day hike had turned into something whose possible outcomes weighed heavily on our minds. Srinivasan was a fit 77 year old retired engineer who had a very alert mind and at any given time would be working on various projects to keep himself busy and occupied. Though physically fairly fit, he did suffer from a minor heart condition. However, he had shown no signs of fatigue or undue stress that morning as we hiked up to the gully point. Franklyn had over two decades of hiking experience behind him, and this gave me hope. We reached the Nivas residence at 2:30 am.
Shridhar paid off Prakash, who left in a sullen mood in spite of being tipped an extra hundred rupees for the inconvenience we had caused him. I had a quick hot shower and went to sleep an hour later. Shyama did not sleep a wink.
Shridhar was up at 5 am and went off to a local hospital to see if he could organise a stretcher in case we needed one. He rustled up a portable battery operated loudspeaker that you could clip around your waist, we made up a medical kit, and Shyama called up Kamal, a friend of theirs. Kamal agreed to drive Shridhar and me to Chinchavli in his bright red Mitsubishi Lancer. He also alerted his friend in Panvel who runs an orthopaedic hospital and told him to standby with an ambulance if required. We grabbed a host of cellphones with roaming ability and quickly fortified ourselves with upma and tea.
Shyama would stay at home and act as the operations nerve centre, sitting by the home phone and in touch with my brother Niral and his wife Susan who had also called in and were wondering why a day hike had been delayed so much! Shridhar, Kamal and I could at the least call up Shyama in case our phones failed to communicate with each other due to the restrictions imposed by the terrain.
At 7 am on 2nd November 2003, the three of us set off for Chinchavli with a mixture of dread and hope in our hearts....
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| Remnants of the honey left in this comb which we found on the trail...the nectar was delicious! |
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| We had had a rather gourmet lunch at the cave on Chanderi and this certainly sustained us during the harrowing hours that followed. |
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| Shridhar, Shyama and Shruti leave the cave for the descent. |
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| The Nivas family descending towards the Chanderi - Mhasmal col |
Whenever I think of this trek it gives me nightmares.Thank heavens it ended in a happy note.
ReplyDeleteChanderi must have seen silently many such accidents or incidents. We also during one of my early trekking time (in 1980's ) had similar incident of missing friends in monsoon. Where in return instead of Chinchavli, they reached Waghachi Wadi. For three-five hrs. our throughts were dry and in intense. But threy informed some villagers and we all met us at Vangani station and were together with relief. But here our group was of young collage goers and I was the only guy with been to trek 15 days ago.
ReplyDeleteBut whatever may be Aloke, you new habbit has given good and interetsing way of recovering the recalling the enjoyable days.
I fully agree with you Dhiren. Over the decades there have been many mishaps in the Sahyadri related both to hiking and rock climbing. Treacherous scree conditions on some of the ridges,slippery mud and rocky slopes in the monsoons and route finding errors have led many hikers into very dangerous situations. Like anywhere in the world where there are hills and mountains, it pays never to underestimate the perils that may lurk round the corner, even for the extremely experienced!
ReplyDeleteTrekking in The Sahyadri is no joke. I could relate with the anxious moment, can be nerve racking. Excellent story telling from bygone days.
ReplyDeleteThank you Vaibhav.... Yes, a mishap can happen even on the simplest of trails and under estimating the potential risks is a common mistake that all of us make from time to time.Living in Vancouver now I am constantly amazed at how many hikers have to be constantly rescued from life and limb threatening situations that they have got into purely due to not being prepared or totally under estimating the perils that can lurk in these benign looking green hills!
Delete