Pipariya took me by surprise.
The name, which I first heard in Itarsi, amused me a great deal. A while later when I discovered that it was in the neighbourhood of a nice hill station: enough to command my respect. So to Pipariya I went from Itarsi. Everything about Pipariya station was amusing. The portly set of porters, the mangy dog that strayed onto the platform, the station master all contrived to give it a comical appearance. The porters also refused to leave me alone, it hurt their traditional pride to see a woman carry her back-pack herself, although I suspect it was more for their pockets that they feared.
However Pipariya had life which was reflected in the way the buses made their way uphill to Panchmarhi 47 km away. They seemed to have a will of their own and did not, as a rule move unless they had made up their minds. And when they did, they were spirited and eager for a run. The fun intensified when taxis and jeeps competed with matadors and tempos and all against each other before setting their eyes on the bus. Often the bus is the winner and occasionally the jeep and the rest of them pull up together, but once at Panchmarhi, all sit down to a friendly cup of ‘chai’ till it is time to go back again.
Panchmarhi was a nice town with sign boards everywhere welcoming you to the ‘Tiger Land’. I did not see any during my stay. In three days I explored caves and waterfalls and verdant green valleys but did not see the cat. But whether the cat saw me was another question altogather.
Panchmarhi in the Satpura range of Madhya Pradesh, central India, gets its name from the five caves, which the legend says sheltered the five Pandavas of the Mahabharata fame. It is not over-developed; nor does it have awesome heights, for the Satpuras are low lying weathered hills. But Panchmarhi likes to show off its treasures too.
The glistening waterfalls are the crowning glory. There are churches built way back at the close of the 18th century with lovely stained glass and plenty of colourful temples. Deep azure pools are hidden everywhere and wild-life watchers can catch glimpses of the animal and birds to their heart’s content.
Infact I did see a couple of them, their eyes glued to the binoculars, so engrossed in their search for the big-cat, that they did not notice when a little boy made away with their caps! Personally I think a day in the Fairy Pool or the Apsara Vihar was a lot more exciting. It must be hard on the eye not to connect to the object it is seeking. I swear I heard a few casual curses, all intended for the cat I hoped, before I made my way through the bushes to the pool. After half a day there I turned my attention to the thunderous waterfalls of the Rajat Parbat and finished off with a swim in the Irene Pool. Of course it sapped a bit of energy but none really grudge the trek. Panchmarhi has a lot of British sounding names and its Indian equivalent, just for the locals!! If you meet a really illiterate local, it helps that you know the names in the two languages.
Day two
I looked for something more exciting and thereby joined a small group and went rock climbing. The guide, aremd with a stout club hacked away at the bushes that threatened to come in his way. He led us though some very hard, rocky grounds, whistling all the while, unaware of our discomfort. After some time we reached where
we were headed.
The rocks at Lanjee Giri are not very friendly to first-timers. I must have cut a pathetic picture to those watching me labour over every rock and every crevice for a footing. I heard the sounds of a “tear” before I saw it. There it was a ghastly sight, leaving a generous bit of me open to public eye!! Luckily, the people in this tiny hill-station are not very “dress-conscious” and therefore I was lucky to get away in my jeans ripped off at undesired places. The guide told me it was not the best thing to wear in the first place.
When I finally boarded a bus the next morning, this time back to Bhopal about 215 km away, I fervently hoped there would be no more competition among the drivers. As it was I had a lot of cheerful memories like a twisted ankle, multiple tear in my jeans: I was not in a hurry to have something done to my head!