After taking our Hyundai Santa Fe through the hills and along the coasts of south India, we headed out from latest rest stop, Pune, direction west, exploring the lay of the land and all it had to offer.
If you’ve been following this travel series over the past couple of issues, you’ll know that we started off in the Hyundai Santa Fe at mainland India’s southern-most trip, Kanyakumari, and finished just as we were about to arrive in Pune. This is the continuation for that journey. Pune, as I mentioned in the last piece of this nationwide travel series, is also the city where the Car India HQ is located – one of the many destinations that we paid a visit to in the Santa Fe.
First things first, though. As soon as we reached Pune, we traded in our current ‘Stardust’ coloured Santa Fe for a shiny new ‘Sleek Silver’ one. That done, we went ahead and checked out the one landmark that Pune is instantly identifiable with; the Shaniwarwada. A symbol of the power and prestige of the fledgling Maratha Empire in its pomp, the Shaniwarwada is located in the heart of Pune, both geographically and symbolically. It has been the heart of Pune city since 1746, holding off the enemies and keeping her illustrious Peshwa rulers safe. We also took the time out to visit the Mahatma Phule Mandal or main market of the city. Located in Shukrawar Peth, this iconic marketplace is a must-see, especially the fruit vendor’s area, which is just an explosion of colours. We also stopped by at the legendary Vishrambaugwada that proudly proclaims the original name of Pune, Punva Nagari, before quick visits to Sarasbaug and Peshwe Park, places that have enthralled the populace of Pune from one generation to the next.
Getting our fill of the scenery of Pune, we turned back towards the highway, moving towards Dahanu via Thane and Ghodbandar. If you plan to make this journey any time soon, check whether the bridge that you arrive at immediately after you cross the breadth of Thane has been fixed or not. If it hasn't, be prepared to be stuck there for more than an hour as the traffic from both directions is alternately filtered through via a tiny single-lane bridge. After waiting patiently for our turn at the said bridge, we pressed on to Dahanu.
Dahanu is a quaint old city famous for its beaches, forts and chikoo farms. Our first stop was Bordi beach, which was interesting because I have never seen a beach with more uniquely coloured waters; it was as if two distinct layers existed in the same water body. The majority of the sea was swathed in a shade of brown, but as soon as the wave approached the beach and crashed, it changed into a shade of pale blue. The scientist in me got really intrigued at this, but then he was reminded of his report cards from back in school, and shut up pretty quickly. We even drove the Santa Fe into the forest adjacent to the main beach area before moving on.
We checked out Dahanu beach too, where we met a bunch of kids hanging around a fishing boat, who were quite intrigued by the Santa Fe. A few of them even whipped out their mobile phones and took selfies with the car, and the sheer joy on their faces was a sight to behold. After chatting with them for a bit, we had to take our leave; the call of the open roads was just too strong.
We did, however, poke around a marketplace on the way out as well, where the fusion of Marathi fromthe locals and the Parsi style Gujarati dialect from the town's strong Zoroastrian population melded together into an odd yet pleasing cacophony. We also managed to spot a few of those famed chikoo farms, though it was too early in the morning for us to go disturbing the peace of whoever owned the wadis, as they are called. The road leading out of Dahanu and towards Vadodara, which was our next stop, was quite bad until we hit NH 8, after which it was an absolute dream to drive on. As is always the case when we have a wide, empty stretch of tarmac opening out before us, it was pedal to the metal time! By now, I’ve got what happens next down like the lyrics of my favourite song. It is like a catapult being loaded and primed, a small delay while the arm is pulled back taut and completely tense and then whoosh! The massive car goes hurtling down the road, all the 197 PS of power and 436 Nm of torque resplendent in their glory.
We shot past Silvassa and Vapi and continued on until we reached Vadodara, and my first impression of the city was of the old meeting the new. Vadodara is a city where a shiny, contemporary glass building can co-exist 50feet away from a temple built in the 1800s with neither looking out of place. We saw one such example as soon as we entered the city. There was this massive, ancient gate at the beginning of the city proper, and the traffic was flowing through it seamlessly, completely unperturbed by this monolith spread across their paths.
As we neared our hotel, I caught sight of a huge stone structure by the wayside, completely enclosed in its own yard, with the main door thrown wide open. Deciding on a whim, I turned the Santa Fe around and headed towards that structure. It turned out that tucked away in the hustle and bustle of central Vadodara is an ancient temple built in the architectural template of the Maratha Empire. As I stood there, looking at the Kirti Temple and waiting for the car to be photographed, a measure of peace stole over me. It was as if I had found an oasis of silence in the dissonance of Vadodara. The temple itself was shut at that time, but if you do get an opportunity to visit, time your visits so that you can explore the whole complex from the inside. The marble work on the interior is a sight to behold.
Even our hotel, the Ginger, along with its neighbouring building was a testimony to Vadodara's unique dichotomy: a luxuriant, lustrous building standing next to a Victorian style church that had a unique feature of its own too. The signboard hanging outside the church was written in Gujarati rather than the traditional English you would expect, as good an advert for 'Incredible India' as any I think. After a comfortable kip at the hotel, it was up again early in the morning and off to explore the city. Our first stop was the Sursagar Lake at the centre of which stands a truly gigantic statue of Lord Shiva. Next on the agenda was another of those gates that populate the city's roads, this time without the chaotic traffic buzzing around us. We also rook a quick stop outside the (closed) gates of Laxmi Vilas Palace, a glorious building that is another must-visit spot in Vadodara. Sadly, we couldn't wait for the gates to open because we had lots of kilometres to cover - next on our travel check-list was the lion habitat.
That's Sasan Gir forest reserve for those who hadn't figured it out already, and to say that I was looking forward to it was the understatement of the day. The temperature outside was indicated as 42 degrees Celsius on the centre console as we got on to the highway that led us to Sasan Gir, not that you'd notice it inside the cabin of the Santa Fe, because the air-conditioner was working at full pelt, and the car was suffused with an extremely comfortable chill. Back to the highway, it was perfectly paved and scarcely populated.
We took the route that bypasses Bhavnagar and Pipaliya, and on the way we even found a salt refinery which we just had to explore (mostly because nobody stopped us). You would think it's not that big a deal, but to see a mountain of unrefined salt shoulder-to-shoulder with another that is completely refined is quite a sight, and I, for one, was fascinated by it. We couldn't dwindle for long, though, because we had to be in Gir in time for the lion safari. Despite the quality of the road, it does suffer from one issue: there are no food stops on the way. We didn't find anything until we reached a small village about 30 minutes away from Gir. A quick brunch later we were ready to set off, but not before photographing the 'Bullet' powered rickshaw that had just pulled up.
The entrance to the Gir forest reserve is interesting. Right at the police check post that demarcates its starting point, we were greeted by a spotted deer frolicking about by the roadside. The policeman, after taking down details such as the driver's name and the car make, model and registration number, and checking out the Santa Fe, told us we had to be out by one of the reserve's gates within 90 minutes or we'd be penalized. I was tempted to ask him about added-on time for injuries and such, but didn't because he probably wouldn't have got the reference (it's not cricket, after all!) Anyway, we moved on, and the road suddenly ceased to exist, although all the heavy machinery required to pave a road through the reserve would probably scare the living daylights out of the animals that call it their home, so I can understand why the road has never been repaired. Not that it was much of bother in the Santa Fe, though, the suspension soaked up a lot of the bumps, making the ride a lot more comfortable than it could have been.
Mere minutes after our tryst with the policeman, we slowed to a stop. Just eight feet away from us, a colony of sambar deer were enjoying a lunch of leaves fresh off a tree and giving the strange shiny silver object that was our car some inquisitive glances. After we had got some clicks in, we pressed forward, and, lo and behold, a colony of spotted deer on the other side of the road. Everyone from baby doe to papa deer with massive horns was present and correct. As are the predators, that make a meal out of the aforementioned species of deer, and others at Sasan Gir - the lions. It isn't easy spotting the king of beasts, though, even when you venture deep into the heart of his terrain. Other animals that you get to see at Gir, that I can personally attest to seeing, are wild boars and peacocks, one of which flew right across the path while were driving through, majestic as only the national bird can be.
Having jungled around enough, we took our leave of Sasan Gir, and pushed on for a further 90 km to Junagadh, which would be our rest stop for the night. The first 20 odd kilometers were a bit rough, but the road became smooth thereafter and stayed decent all the way till Leo's Resort, where we stayed over the night. If you're going down this route in particular, you might find a singular building just outside the city, a 'Groundnut Research Centre.' Why the innocent groundnut needs a whole facility to be experimented upon is beyond my reckoning, but there it is.
After spending a comfortable night at Leo's Resort, it was time to go for another early morning city exploration expedition. The only place we visited that day was the Uperkot Fort. Why did it receive this dubious honour? Because the Uperkot Fort in Junagadh has been around since 319 BC (probably explains the city's name too). It was built by King Chandragupta of the Maurya dynasty and legend has it that it withstood a 12-year-long siege at one stage. What it couldn't withstand, though, was being desecrated by some small minded citizens of the city, who found it fitting to etch their names and those of their lovers in these very walls. Incredible India, not looking so incredible now is it? But I digress.
Junagadh and particularly Uperkot and its surroundings are a history buff's dream. You have 2,ooo-year-old Buddhist monastic quarters in the form of caves found in the surrounding area. There's the Jama Masjid too, an incredible structure with 140 pillars supporting the ceiling. The two cannons, Neelam and Manek, imported from Egypt in 1531, arc placed just outside the mosque, and are 15 feet long. Lastly, there are also two dizzyingly deep step wells with spiral staircases leading all the way down, dating back to the nth century. You almost feel like you're encroaching on forbidden territory when you think back to the amount of time those walls have remained standing for. Alexander the Great was a wee lad of seven when the fort was built. Maybe that'll give you some perspective. A physical embodiment for the phrase 'standing the test of time' if I ever saw one.
Having seen as much as we could of Uperkot and its many wonders, we got back on the highway, the Rajkot highway this time. Our destination: the village of Dasada at the edge of the little Rann of Kutch. We were used to perfectly good highways throughout this journey, and weren't disappointed on this, its last leg, either. Apart from a small 30-minute stretch, the road gave us no problems, what could potentially have been a problem was the heat. Dasada was facing 47 degrees of the Sun's wrath, but the Santa Fe moved on, completely unperturbed.
We arrived at the excellent Rann Riders resort hoping they would be open and hoping they would accommodate us without any prior notice, and our hopes were not only answered, but surpassed on all accounts. The management was extremely hospitable, and made our stay there one of the most comfortable we've ever experienced on this whole journey, despite the heat. The food they served us was regional, authentic and, oh, so delicious. We had so many options for fun activities too. Everything from fishing to horseback riding on thoroughbreds from their excellent stables, to Rann safaris on camel back and in camel-drawn carriages is available for the guests' enjoyment. I even made a new best friend there, the in-house Pug, called Princy! They also had two Labrador retrievers, a St Bernard, a big fat orange cat that looked like cartoon favourite Garfield come to life, and even a pet peacock. The animal lover that I am, I was in heaven and didn't want to leave, but as the clock struck 5.00 pm we had to set out to the little Rann because that's what we were there for.
Now if you haven't been to the Rann, it's extremely difficult to describe. The vast emptiness, absolutely nothing breaking your sight-line as far as the eye can see. Not a soul in sight, no animals, no trees, nothing. The silence was bone-chillingly beautiful; the emptiness had a haunting yet endearing quality. The Rann is like a bitter-sweet limerick half forgotten in time; it leaves you pensive, wistful and pondering deep thoughts. I could have spent months just driving around, the thrum of the engine and the train of my thoughts my only companions, and maybe someday I will. In the simplest terms, the Rann is just one massive salt trailblazing at the little Rann of Kutch marsh, but that's like saying the Taj Mahal was a marble building. There's a deep evocativeness of space and loneliness that makes it one the most unparalleled places I have ever had the good fortune of visiting, and I haven't even mentioned the fun you can have there in a big sturdy 4x4 with traction control and electronic stability. In a straight line, you can see what any car is made of without worrying about traffic and buildings. Watch out for the wild ass of Kutch, though, because they only exist here, and colliding with them is criminal on so many levels, not least because they are an endangered species. There are also some desert foxes and Indian wolves to be found along with nilgais too.
Back to the 4x4 with traction control and electronic stability bit. You can have a lot of slipping sideways fun if you know your car well and it comes equipped with safety features such as those mentioned above. The vast nothingness means you can drift around, but again keep your eyes peeled for the wildlife there. You're encroaching on their habitat, so a little respect wouldn't go amiss. Make sure to take a guide if you enter the Rann, because everything looks the same, and you will get lost on your own. Rann Riders kindly parted with one of their staff guides, and he could tell his way around based on an individual shrub or a particular set of tracks. It was incredible! Like the guy had a sixth sense for Rann navigation, there's no other way to describe it.
After the fun in the Rann, we turned back to Rann Riders, and I was reunited with my buddy Princy. A sumptuous dinner later, I lay down in the cottage, the adulation of crickets permeating through its wooden walls, which, along with the slow rustle of dry leaves, formed a curious yet soothing lullaby. It was introspection time. This journey had taught me so much already, about India, her people, culture and diversity. More than anything else, though, it had shown me the joys of a road trip, one that was amplified greatly by the presence of the Santa Fe, my fondness growing for it with every passing city.
