Konkan in the rains

I was in Khopoli for work and had planned a little wandering for myself, off the Pali-Khopoli road towards Mrugagad near Jambhulpada. It’s the peak of monsoon, the Konkan hills are shrouded in clouds and it is lustrous green all-around. Driving alone on a winding road, past wet and sleepy villages, a narrow pock marked asphalt strip cutting through the overgrown bushes and the iridescent green paddy fields. Rains splintered off my windscreen and the wipers struggled to keep a clear arc to see ahead. The sickly river I have been ignoring for an year, is now full– gurgling, playful, fast – keeping me company, speeding down the smoky hill slopes. To my right below, a girl fished in the river at the turn with her father under an umbrella; I swept past the village women wearing triangular overalls made from plastic bags; listening to the muted and rhythmic dhup-dhup of the wiper blades; watching the trees shaking in the wind; the blurred green magnified through the water droplets on my car window. I drove up to the Big Red Tent SH 92 camping ground and parked. The 10 acre place is owned by the Inamdaars, I met the lady herself who showed me around and chatted with her on her verandah over a cup of tea. They have built a beautiful multi-level red tiled house, with an open air atrium. The atrium opens into a courtyard which is a patch of lawn with a mango tree, bordered by stone slabs and a wrap-around verandah looking inside. Dr Inamdaar, a civil engineer, and her husband own an Engineering college in Khalapur and this is their country home. Soon rooms will be rented out for stays. The camping is managed by her son (who was out for white water rafting in Kolad) in the large, extended grounds. Mrugagad with the tiger back ridge jutted out covered in velvet green straight ahead of the front outer balcony. On my way back, I parked and got out on a shaky bridge and watched the river flowing between the bushes on the bed. The grey, white and green canvas in front of me was alive with the wind gusts, and the sound of the water leaping over the rocks. The rain sprayed my face, and I watched the hill ranges grew indistinct in the fading light.