The Fort

The bus took a winding path along the rocky terrain and there, the fort of Sinhagad was in full view. The once magnificent and majestic, the pride of the Marathas for which the great Narvir Tanaji lost his life.

“We have over three hours to spend in this fort. Please make sure that all of you get back to the bus at 2.00 pm sharp. The time now is 11.00am” the announcement from the tour guide woke me up from the reverie.

“Let us climb those stairs and see who reaches the top first”

Payal was still her energetic self; it has been four days since we left the hostel to loosen ourselves in the treasures of a hidden India. We have always been excited and fascinated by the great history of India and especially the Maratha Empire. Shivaji with all his handsomeness and valor played a “number on us” as we put it. So here we are vagabonds trying to hide from our protective families and discover a little part of the universe on our own.

The fort had steep stairs at the entrance, the stairs in a dilapidated condition. Tourists were mulling around and yawning from boredom. In this technological era no one seem to have to time to think of the great war and the victory of the Marathas over the then powerful Mughal kingdom. This is just another stop for most to look around and have their vada paav on top of one of the rocks, may be that the great Shivaji himself sat on very same rock.

“Come on, Vrinda, let us run up the stairs.”

We both started running up the stairs, it helped that we did not have heavy backpacks, just a couple of tops and the unmentionables and a few hundred rupees. Payal as usual reached the top first. She has always been the athletic one among my friends. She did her regular “nana na boo boo” stint on top and I as usual ignored her.

We strayed from our tour group comprising of some honey-mooners, some older couples and a few college guys who were trying to hit on us right from the start of the trip. They soon lost their interest when they realized that we were not looking for company.

The fort looked haunted to me, I heard faint sounds of horse hoofs, the war cries, but when I talked about this to Payal she laughed.

“Here you go again, Vrinda, you’ll never change. You and your great imagination”

I kept hearing the hoofs but did not dare to mention that again to Payal. We went around the fort to see the huge cannon halls. The little spaces with grass growing all around the rocks, the board saying that it is a heritage site and that the Archeological Society of India has taken over the maintenance of the fort etc etc. The heat of the summer sun was wearing us out. People who were interested in looking around were far off. We sat on top of one of the rocks of the fort but quickly jumped away. The fort was of such height that the trees looked like puny babies wailing from down below. I had no wish to fall to death especially at this sweet age.

There were some local women sitting in the shade a little distance away. They had their colorful sarees wound around their head and they were fanning themselves with the tips of the same saree. We walked over; the women had little matkas of buttermilk with them, which they were selling. Payal asked for two for both of us, in Marathi. Even after years of living in Maharashtra I had not picked up much Marathi other than to say “hello” and “where are you going”

We paid 6 rupees for two matkas and sat beside the women, they were very happy to make some space for us to sit as well. Payal started chatting away with them and explained to me that they had come from the village which lay below the fort and that they come every day to sell matkas of butter milk. The usually bring 50-60 matkas and butter milk in a big can. On a good day they can sell all of their matkas and hence make some money.

The buttermilk tasted heavenly, sweet and sour and salty. The tastes played a dance on my tongue. We sat there drinking the buttermilk and chatting to the women for some more time.

We went to explore the rest of the fort, hidden corridors, and secret meeting rooms. Once again the sound of the horse hoofs are getting louder. I see the lion of Marathas, his heroic stance with the sword pulled out.

‘You are out to lunch again , aren’t you” Payal chirping

No, I was just looking around and thinking how it must have been in the past.

“You are too much of a dreamer”

The Casanova’s that we had in the bus came back to hit on us. Possibly thinking that we would be game in a heritage site. Payal asked them to go take a hike.

We found a cool spot in one of the corners of the fort where no one was going in. People seem, to loose interest in the place soon after they come up the stairs and hence they don’t even go to the area at the back. History does not hold much value anymore. Valor does not seem to respected anymore either, all that matter is money.

There is another hour to go before we need to head back to the bus, we decided to take out one of our tops and lie on a rock in the shade.

Horse hoofs getting louder, Maratha emperor’s voice echoing through the walls, the cries of the wounded soldiers, the Mughals retreating and pacing back for the forests and hiding behind the mountains.

By the time we woke up, sun was setting and the time was 5pm.

“Oh my god, the bus”.

We took our tops that we were using as pillows and started to run. We came to the front of the fort and saw that our bus had left already. There were a couple of other tourist buses, which were getting filled up as well.

“How do we get back from this god forsaken place”, Payal was on the verge of tears. It was time for me to be brave.

“Remember the tour guide saying that there is a small little guest house run by a family out here”

“So”

“This is a beautiful place, let us stay here tonight. No one will be looking for us tonight anyway”

Payal was shocked by this bold proposal coming from me. Should we at least try to squeeze into one of those buses Then we both decided “Naaah”

The fort looked beautiful under the setting sun, most people had left the fort, the women who were selling buttermilk were wrapping up their stuff to leave the fort as well and was shocked to see us still there. Payal got the directions to the guest house from them and also advise from them that two girls should not be staying alone in an isolated guest house. We said thanks for the directions and the free advise and started to tread our way to the guesthouse.

Crickets had started to chip away and there was an eerie air to the whole place. Sun’s rays were receding fast and it looked as if the trees were getting ready to sleep. Birds were making their way back to their nests.

Walk around the fort was not easy as there were lots of thorny plants around. The thorns were getting caught on our jeans. We stopped on our way to take out the thorns.

At a little distance we saw a small little place with the lights on. The verandah was bare except for a little table, which was rather strange.

There was no calling bell outside but we could hear a child crying inside. We knocked at the door and much to our relief a young woman opened the door. She looked very surprised to see us and asked us in Marathi as to why we were there

Payal informed her that we were looking for a place to stay for the night. She looked around us possibly looking for that escort. Payal explained that we were on our own and she couldn’t help but say “Hey Ram !”

She, Manjusha explained that she and her husband are the caretakers for the guesthouse and that on most days there are no bookings. She was eager to assist us and showed us to a small but clean room with four beds. She informed us that most of the time when there is a booking it is for a big group or big family; hence they have rooms with four or more beds in it. We made sure that she would be charging us for just the two beds. We paid her the 300rs, which was the cost of the bed and meals. She asked us what we would like for dinner and we agreed on rotis, daal and baingun fry (we asked for okra bhaji but she did not have any okra and it was too late to get some from the village)

The rooms were on one side of the guesthouse and Manjusha and family lived on the other side. There was a small veranda outside our room, which looked into the valley on one side of the fort. The forts looked, dejected and lonely and seem to be calling me.

“Come Vrinda, come.
I will show you what happened. Come Vrinda”

Soon we had our shower and felt quite fresh. Night was pitch dark, stars twinkling up in the sky, cricket chirping was a lot louder. We sat on the verandah and looked out. Our stomachs were growling. After our breakfast this morning we hadn’t had anything decent until now. Payal started to sing to her imaginary lover, “Just think of me and I will be there, don’t be afraid oh my love….”

We heard Munjusha calling out, “Didi, food is ready” we had gotten used to being called Didi by everyone, that seem to be Marathi culture. Didi did not mean big sister alone, it was a way to give respect

Rice, rotis, daal and bahji were so good that we were ready to eat our fingers which brought those heavenly things to our mouth. Balram, Munjusha’s husband who seemed like a very pleasant guy came over to make sure that we were okay and that we did not need anything else. We confirmed that we were comfortable. After another hour of lazing around in the verandah we decided to hit the sack.

******

Pitch dark, sound of the horse hooves getting louder and louder. People crying, the swish of the swords. Brave Narvir Tanaji fighting on top of the horse, the pet lizard of Shivaji dragging the rope up the fort.

My sleep was disturbed. I saw Shivaji being informed by the messenger that the fort is ours but brave Nanaji was killed in the battle

Upset Shivaji said
“Gadh Ala, pan Sinha Gela”
other courtiers were all echoing “ Gadh Ala , Pan Sinha Gela”

Shivaji came to the fort to pay respects. Horse hooves, the sounds dying down. The fort ruled by the Marathas, the height of maratha glory.

******

Was that a dream??? The whole night seemed to have gone by. Light was trickling in through the curtains. Payal was sound asleep when I woke up. Does not feel like I slept at all. I woke up and went out to the verandah. Fort looks strange, is it haunted? Haunted by the unknowns who were killed in 1670, are they the souls of the Marathas or the Mughals??

Sun rising. Munjusha called out, “Didi chai ya coffee”?
Coffee, I yelled back

Suddenly this line came back to me “Gadh ala, pan sinha gela”. Since Payal was still sleeping decided to ask Munjusha. I went over to her and said

“gadh ala pan sinha gela”.

She started to laugh. I said “ meaning”

She could not understand so I came back and woke up Payal who was abusive at being woken up. I asked her what does that line mean.

She looked surprised and commented; at last you say a full Marathi sentence.

“What does that mean??

“Where did you get that sentence”

I explained about the dream and said that is what Shivaji said in the dream. Payal seemed shocked and explained that this was what Shivaji was said to have exclaimed when he was informed of the victory of the Marathas but the death of the great Narvir Tanaji.

“Gadh ala pan sinha Gela” which means the fort is gained but the lion is lost

How did I know that?? How can my mind come up with a full Marathi sentence and that too the exact sentence Shivaji said. Did I read about the fort before??

Steaming hot coffee was served by Munjusha. A lot more sugary than I like but it felt nice on my throat. As decided yesterday Munjusha served Poha and pickle for breakfast.

By eleven we were ready to leave the fort. Tourist buses had started to arrive and once again uninterested people descending upon the fort to take pictures and just look around. We went down the flight of stairs, but the fort seem to say once again

“gadh ala , pan sinha gela”

Sinhagad fort which is located near the city of pune, India, was won by the Marathas after the great battle of Sinhagad in 1670. The Great Narvir tanaji of the Marathas won over UdayBhan of the Mughals. The fort’s original name was “Kundana”