The Backpacker

To think, I have lived in these parts for so long and NEVER before attempted to climb a thousand steps in search of the temple on top. Leave the temple, any person with a grain of adventurous streak, would make a beeline for the Chamundi Hills,(Mysore) up the stone steps, past the lush vegetation, stop to look at the beautiful view of Mysore spread out below, bow to the black Bull God and finally, in a surge of passion, scamper up the last 400 or so steps to the flat mountian top that houses a nasty looking statue of Mahishasura with a sword and a snake in each hand, standing guard over the various temples spread around.

But I had none of that before. So when I finally made up my mind, (well, it was less of making up the mind and more of for want of a better alternative), I was not alone. Ha, my climbing partner was quite unlike any climbing partner I have had in the past. Maya, was, by no means a climber. But she had the grit. It was up or no where else. I am all for climbing mountains, but my mind and body are two different things. In the end, after trying to bribe an auto-driver into taking us up and failing because he was asking us the price of his ancient auto, we decided to walk.

It is remarkably easy for the body to follow when the mind is made up. One, two, three...on we went, more out of curiosity than with the actual intention of undertaking an exciting walk through sunlit steps and overhanging branches upon which huge spiders had spun their webs, bouncy monkeys chattering away without a care.

Whether it was a miracle or sheer coincidence I dont know, but after we met Ganesha, a tiny young fellow who materialised from nowhere suddenly, our walk became more bearable. Also, I seized the oppurtunity to brush up my Kannada, which, much to my relief and that if Ganesha, I am sure, had not suffered much in the hands of the ultra modern Middle East culture and much wandering about in foreign land. Ganesha hid his curiosity well. For a fellow not used to being around women accustomed to swearing at everything, he kept his head right and eyes fixed on the steps, and never for a moment letting his amusement get the better of him. He hid shock, surpirse, amusement and many other emotions well.

A handy fellow he was, making walking stick out of fallen branches, upon which I leaned heavily from time to time in order to catch my breath. Well, the less said of Maya's efforts in that quarter the better. I really didnt believe she would make it, and had she not, there was very little Ganesha and I could have done, but she was a chump alright. She plodded on like a good soldier and I kicked myself mentaly because, for all the climbing I had done in the past, I had let myself be taken over by the softness of the city life.

Then we sighted cucumbers. It must have been just as we were about to die at the top of 600 steps. There was a welcome party on the top. A policeman in Khaki uniform with a walkie-talkie had appeared on a motor bike and looked down upon us as we pushed ourself over the last few steps.

Nothing like cucumber sprinkeld with chilli and salt to revive a dying man, I say.

(Part II continued)