I took out the old battered hand-drawn map again and set out again to explore what a flood had forbidden me to.
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It was on the day of ‘Maha-Shiva-Ratri’ , the night of Shiva the hermit, that I left with a group in the morning, to scale the fort of Sinhagarh, translated as ‘fort
of the lion’, which was inhabited years ago by the Chatra-pati Shivaji Maharaj Bhosle.
Round and round we went along the road which curled around the hill like a coiled serpent.The water was a dark green when the sun shone over it and the color of lapis lazuli when clouds took over the sun.
A Foray into the wild
Categories content writing, creative writing, humor, humour, storytelling, travel
Tickets were bought instantly and then , as if by satanic providence , a computerized voice announced a two-hour delay!
Through the windshield , the bastard was clearly visible – the dead frog.
Nonetheless , the following night , a pack of six foolhardy youths sneaked out of their college periphery (owing to lack of permission) and set out to set the Thames on fire ! or the Arabian sea , or… hell! the Gulf of Cambay on fire !!!
After a rousing speech by the Antiblack , we embarked on a second attempt to conquer the bats and their cave. Well , better the devil you know , than the devil you don’t!
Shiva performing Tandava , the cataclysmic prance , which heralds apocalypse much the same as the horn of Israpheel ( Raphael ) in Abrahamic mythology.Ganesh missing both tusks instead of just missing one , gods with hands hacked off , and Lakshmi with breasts hacked off. Clearly , the caves had been vandalized by invaders.
It all began with a trip to the Andaman and Nicobar islands which , apart from being a refreshing one , was also a purely imaginary one , for the event never actually took place.