WARNING: This is not a travelogue for Lonavala in anyone’s wildest sense of imagination. It merely is a carving on virtual media, narrating the day that was, twice after Sun had turned up 330 minutes past the moment it had enlightened the middle of a kingdom which proclaimed until recently “Sun never sets here”. Now, that your brains had enough comprehension exercises, it’s time to hang up with this oration.
It’s not very often that, when I lay down my lower flipside on the comfortable corner confines of my divan, my 100 grams of cerebrum comes across a title even before I start the actual inscriptions. But when I look back on that day, and recall our noble deeds, there is one word that I Trans through, ‘Madness’.
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| This one says it all about ‘KILL-KULTURE’ |
Right in the morning, when someone reprimands you for being late at a meeting point, when it doesn’t even matter since the medium of transport is tardy beyond acceptable limits, you know are in a Killing-Kompany. Finally the van arrived, not to miss with the person who in-principle held up the madness from beginning.
My first death happened very soon, with all my efforts and a CD down the drain in a freak mistake the night before. Guns were out, luckily the driver had an even refined collection of latest charts that came to my rescue and largely to the rescue the picnic from being a sober affair.
The after effects of ZNMD were there for all to see, people got desperate for hearing the sweet senorita sound, even after it being played for the umpteenth time.
The insaneness for senorita halted briefly with the tummy time. Spirits returned with doses of ‘vada-pavs’, ‘pohas’ and the ‘kharvases’.
Soon we were up on the expressway. All the excitement broke loose, and heads were seen being coming out of windows, along with the dear camera. Sadly, all plans of uploading the snaps on social network failed, when the group realised there was a semi-bald head poking out to be featured or rather ruin every picture.
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| The ‘Semi-Girebaal’ show |
Lonavala proved a dampener. Thing we feared most happened, we weren’t allowed to go at the famous Bushi Dam. Nevertheless, our great think-tank had a plan B. We went for some alternative dam, only to tire us all out by walking nothing less than 2-3 miles. When I look back, it was a great amusement, we not only turned our picnic to a trek but also got all of us ‘muddy’. Luckily the think- tank soon regained its thinking prowess and we were all on for reaching the nadir of the Lonavala hills to be inside waters of Zenith!
The insatiable thirst came to fore at zenith falls. No amount of hunger cramps deterred the bathing spirits of the group. Thanks to the fellow tourists, and specially their intoxicated state, we were finally out of waters.
The return journey was even more preposterous to say the least. The mob turned too happy and gay. Some heads dozed off, but the live ones were banging, till our destinations did us apart.
Now that I’m being too clumsy, I end my little piece here. Hope it brought back some sweet and naughty memories :)
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| This picture at the best portrays the self-restraint power of the group and its acting talent, it suggests nothing else. A perfect example of ‘What you see may not be true’. |
