To touch a Mirage

“There’s a magic portal somewhere down this road”, I told her… “Close your eyes and I’ll take you there…” and she closed her eyes, smiled and swam off into an easy slumber, in tune with an Ismail Darbar rendition on the radio… Outside, through a half open window, the winter sun caressed the mustard metropolis that grew tall on both sides of the six-lane highway and the hum of radials on tarmac danced with the whizzing wind as it wafted in… it was going to be a long drive to the Valley of Valour…

Hours later, having navigated past crowded lanes buzzing with auto rickshaws, open drains lined with squatting late-risers and modern cities that had sprung up around ancient walls, I finally reached a lonely tamarind tree next to a narrow black ribbon that rolled out of the magnificence and frenzy of Udaipur and disappeared north into the high hills of the Aravallis… we were almost there. I gently nudged her and she stretched, smiled and with her eyes still shut, asked “ … are we there?” I ran my fingers through her hair and said “ …no, not yet… but the magic has begun…” She opened her eyes and saw that we were surrounded by golden hills that leapt up towards the sky, like noble warriors, fierce and bold, guarding the gateway to an old world and its secret treasures… we had entered the portal… the road to Kumbhalgarh.

Tucked away in the brave heart of Mewar, in Southern Rajasthan, lies Kumbhalgarh – a land of austere beauty, forged by courage and sacrifice, where it is said, even today, roam the spirits of long-dead warriors, protecting this land from the evil in our hearts. And through this land run two great arteries; one a river called the hope of the forest – Banas, and the other, the great walls of the Kumbhalgarh fort that snake their way along these hills for 36 kilometres, said to be the longest running fort walls after the Great Wall of China. Kumbhalgarh is perhaps too far away and too little known to figure in your holiday plans, but that is exactly what makes it such a great place to visit… for if you’re looking for a romantic destination that doesn’t cost the moon and yet is a world where all that stands between the horizons stands to wait on you, then Kumbhalgarh it has to be… In all our time there, we practically had the place to ourselves, except for a busload of French tourists who dropped by one afternoon and I did see a group or two of Indian tourists in the three days we spent there. But honestly, they seemed to have lost their way while heading out of Udaipur… and this was at the height of the tourist season!

But if you are sitting on the fort walls at the right hour, when the evening skies are set ablaze by the setting sun and shadows lengthen in the vast empty plains below, there is one who will, on occasions, tap you on your shoulder and whisper in your ear, and tell you tales that only ‘time’ could tell… It is an hour when, like centuries ago, the empty valley seems to come alive with warriors streaming out of the shadows, the sounds of horse hooves pounding the earth, elephants trumpeting their fury while conches blare… the screams of soldiers as they clash, kill and die… the valley becomes the battlefield it was born to be, streaked with blood and glory, and then a stray gust of wind, brings ‘time’ back to the present, and he’s gone… the tale remains unfinished, the sights and sounds of the past fade into the folds of the earth and the valley returns to its serene solitude… but by then you know, you’d been touched by a mirage…

This might be the place where Rana Pratap was born, the fort that Rana Kumbha built and the land that was both witness and ally to the legendary conquests of Rajput valour. But there’s more to Kumbhalgarh than just history and heritage. At more than 6200 feet above sea level, Kumbhalgarh is one of the highest points in the region, and those who like driving holidays, the winding roads that cling to these rugged hills offer a fair challenge… sharp hair-pins, blind corners, more trail than tarmac and on occasions so narrow that barely a car can pass… but it rewards you with vistas that take one’s breath away… every once in a while, the copper landscape would break into a brilliant blue with little lakes and streams springing up where you least expect them, and these hills, though not a patch on the tall mountains further north, have a wild untamed spirit that touch a chord in every heart that’s been bitten by wanderlust. The best thing about this road is that it is almost always empty (all along the 80 odd kilometres, I saw just one other vehicle), except at every third blind corner because just when I got used to the idea of having the road to myself and my eyes drifted away from the horizon and into her’s, out popped a camel from the corner with a bright turbaned rider on top, whose piercing hazel eyes burnt a hole in my wind-shield; on another occasion, it was a pair of tall slim women with fire-wood stacked on their heads who giggled and turned away as I slowed down to let them pass… and finally it was an adorable little naked sand-haired tyke running with gay (I use the word in all innocence as it once used to be used ) abandon, being chased by a hobbled donkey who in turn was being chased by a similarly attired little moppet, on the very last of the blind corners… so keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel and keep the romantic urges in the dash board for a while, for a mistake here would send one crashing many metres down the sheer cliffs that skirt the road…

Back on the fort, I held her by the hand and pulled her towards a ledge at the rear of the fort, helped her on to it and stood behind her. Below us, for as far as the eye could spy, there spread the green woods of the Kumbhalgarh sanctuary… where panthers prowl and wolves howl… She shuddered, in fear and anticipation, of the adventures that lay ahead of us in these enchanted forests…

Just a few hours after midnight, in the freezing cold of the wee hours, we got into an open rickety Mahindra MUV and juddered into the forest…the bone wracking drive along a perilously narrow hill track and the biting cold only brought us closer as we huddled together and hurtled into the forest… a rustle in the thicket, a pair of eyes glowing in the dark, the crackle of dry leaves… the forest flattered to deceive… it was almost dawn and we hadn’t seen a thing. And then, in the feeble light of the plains, I saw shadows… a pair of loping silhouettes… I turned towards her and whispered… she looked up as did I but the shadows had disappeared back in the darkness… had I really seen something? I wasn’t so sure… and then the long lonely wail, a wolf ’s howl… there, we’d touched a mirage again…

That night, after dinner, while the Rajasthani dancers danced to the lilting beats, we retired to the roof of the Aodhi and lay in each other’s arms and looked up at the clear starlit sky… it was beautiful… in that moment, we spoke no words and gazed at the sky… with no mirages to touch, in joy we’d cry…