Tudor: Capturing Hill or Hearts?
Gurdeepak remembers a memorable trek with colleagues.
It
was a Saturday morning but in no way was it the usual Saturday, where yankee jeans replace the creased trousers, unlike a
typical Saturday beginning at 10 a.m. with a relaxed mind and a cup of hot tea, this day was different. It was raining infact
raining so hard that darkness loomed all over - spinning day into ‘night-like’ times. Armed with wind-cheaters
and jackets 23 of us sounded the charge of the FinEng brigade to Tudor Retreat, near Khopoli, situated off the Mumbai-Pune
highway.
Sitting atop the hill, the mist was making it difficult to see any
further than 5 meters. Legs still feeling the gush of the blood and the heart content of just having conquered it, almost
like a brigade of army moving up – grit showing on faces. The ascent on the muddy and at many places lose-rock pathway
was slow and steady, like an assault so planned to take the enemy by surprise. With
spattering rain making it tougher, every step was taken with a deep breath and a small prayer.
Finally at 12 p.m. the hill had fallen to the FinEng brigade, a conquest only tiger-hearted are known to make. This
was the last leg of the Tudor trip.
The beginning at Tudor had been with a toast raised and then
jumping into the lawns with grass drowning in abundance of rain and mud. The game of football was played with all the heart
while the one-off brawls with Atul, pulling of vests incessantly, shouting at Trushant for bad goalkeeping just added more
spice. All the slides in the mud, without even touching the ball, looking more like an ice-skating competition than a game
of football, I was sure onlookers had their share of fun too. At the end of it most had looked like the camouflaged Arnold
in Predator.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
I was reminiscing about Saturday morning when a sudden thunder shook
me. Still seated on a rock, I saw the platoon had moved still further, led by Dheeraj and Atul, moving to the source of the
waterfall. Tudor hill had a massive waterfall furiously pushing down its neck any water that came its way.
Sitting there I watched the lush green leaves of the trees, pristine
grass shining with drops of rains all over them. The rain had ceased as if wanting the cloud-touching climbers to watch the
beauty of existence around them. The world it seemed had frozen for a moment with no movement around, except the sound of
the falling waters making froth while landing and then seamlessly flowing unidentified into infinity.
“Come-down”! sounds woke me up from my day dreams
and I realized it was time to descend the Tudor hill. It had started to drizzle again but very lightly this time. It seemed
to be making a gesture of goodbye but with a promise of returning.
Whats more!......We’ll keep the promise.
-Gurdeepak Singh Ahuja
(Working in Fineng Solutions Pvt Ltd, Mumbai,
Gurdeepak is passionate about trekking, photography and writing poems. If you would like to comment on this article do write
to him at gdsahuja@yahoo.com )
|
|
|
|
|
