NIGHOJ AND BEYOND

NIGHOJ

Driving through large open fields, of yellow and green on a narrow road that goes and up and down and turns and winds through the occasional plateaus of the Deccan, one reaches a small village- perhaps, hardly known by any.  A village who hosts more than a lakh pilgrims every April, and a village whose natural crater like rock pothole formations through a river turned green, have given rise to many spiritual beliefs amongst the villagers. Lying 90 kilometers away from Pune, in the Ahmednagar District of Maharashtra; Nighoj, with its geological beauty, and religious soul is a rather modest village.

Situated at the banks of the Kukdi river, a tributary to river Bhima, Nighoj boasts of having the largest potholes in the whole of Asia, yet it remains an offbeat track for travellers. The kind of beauty not marked on maps, yet it’s the peace and the quiet that magnifies the allure of this place, and as one steps on the craters and the gorges eyeing the greenish river that meanders amidst, one is left feeling unearthly-its artistry is literally out of this world.

Perhaps the best part about these giant’s kettles or so are they called is its solitariness. A few people, at the most whose main purpose of visit is probably the Malganga Devi Temple situated beside, the pothole banks remain aloof, non-commercialized and pure; doing justice to its naturalness; yet they evoke a certain sense of mystery. How on earth-could we be witnessing such lunar formations? 

While the villagers, and the temple priest firmly believe that this kund was formed by Malganga Devi herself, for bathing puposes, scientific reports suggest that a high rainfall in this area caused Kukadi River to flow out from the highlands with such force that scouring of the bedrock took place and resulted in the formation of these potholes and the gorge.

However, when one walks down through the steps to the brim of the river, and notice it’s almost stillness, one wonders how this water could have been so strong enough to cut through rocks and stones and give rise to this rocky paradise. And as one follows the river trail with the naked eye drifting through these potholes, a sense of calmness is born inside the heart, for at least something seems to go beyond infinity. 

                  

 The village of Nighoj isn’t your typical village with hay-thatched huts. If you walk through the paved streets you will realize that it’s quite developed, posing pakka colorful houses, shops, and many temples. With men clad in white dhotis and women in colorful navaars and the typical Maharashtrain Nathini, smiling surprsingly for we don’t seem like those usual pilgrims to them.

  Situated amidst the village, is an architectural beauty- a barav known for its hemadpanthi structure. Locals believe that on Janamashthami, the day that Lord Krishna was born, an earthern pot filled with water emerges from this barav, at midnight. This is displayed in the temple of Malganga for 3 days. On the 3rd day, the pot is taken near the well from where it disappears. Locals claim that it is the miracle of Malganga Devi. The faith that these villagers show in this particular goddess is phenomenal.

In between the hustle bustle and the chaos of the city, as you go wandering through its busy streets, occasionally bumping into people as they rush for their daily chores, as you stop beside the temples and see the belief of the people, the conviction they have in their eyes towards something so unsure, as you stop and catch a conversation with the shopkeepers who willingly show you more than you ask for, and as Chotu, in that roadside eatery you stopped at urges you have just one more Vada Pav, a certain sense of calmness is born amongst the discord. 

Nighoj- it becomes your hiraeth. It makes you feel at home.

ON THE WAY

Nothing defines travel, more than the journey does. The road that takes you to the destination perhaps holds all the adventures one has, on their trip. Driving on the Pune-Ahmednagar highway, we took a left from Ranjangaon, towards the road leading to Nighoj- a trail full of surprises, winding through cut flat plateaus and yellow fields, we stopped many a times- aimlessly to climb up the highlands and see the vastness of the world from up there- the villages that seemed so tiny, the different trees that seemed so much greener and the never ending road                                                                                               that went almost to and through everywhere. 

Abandoned huts, mysterious doorways, and far flung mustard plains finally brought tour notice,

a solitary establishment rather royal in its stature, with Indo-Islamic style of architecture - a brown dome carved with curvy vertical stripes, and a yellowish rectangular bottom having a little doorway. As we went in further, we discovered that it wasn’t lonely in its existence. Lying right beside it were three huge similar structures with rugged staircases leading up to each one of it. What surprised us even more was a hidden canal coming from Ghodi river right beside it which, seemed to instill freshness in the environment. And keeping up with the spirit of culture was another modern temple, whose priest was more than happy to receive such modern “worshipers’’. The dome shaped establishments were all shiv temples and a regular stop for all the nearby villagers. Right behind these temples was a rather dilapated wall of black bricks, with overgrown weed and fungi over all of it. “These are the ruins of the Pawaar Kingdom”, the priest told us.

Pawaar Kingdom, a name that had never popped up in History books, was a dynasty finding its roots in the Rashtrakuta Empire of the South, and had close ties with the Peshwa Kingdom. It is sad that all that remains of this dominion is a decaying wall, somewhere almost in the middle of nowhere.

MORACHI CHINCHOLI

   

                                                                       

Another interesting stop on the way is the popular village of Morachi Chincholi- a name that literally translates into the village of dancing peacocks and tamarind trees-one can quite imagine its spectacular flora and fauna. However another fascinating thing about this village is its colorful houses, with doors adorned with intricate designs and colorful stones, and women all dressed up in colorful navaars visiting temples with well set up pooja thalis. The old women, would willingly get themselves clicked, smile at you, and then bless you whole heartedly.

Although we did not see any dancing peacocks, we met beautiful people who showered us with their blessings. It is amazing how villages treat even strangers with such kindness and affection. It’s a visit to places like these that restore your faith in love and humanity. 

UP ABOVE THE WORLD SO HIGH

                                 UP ABOVE THE WORLD SO HIGH

(The Nag Tibba Exploration)

You know how they say; every experience good or bad teaches you something. Or how, you will laugh on this a few years later, or it’s all just in your mind. Well sometimes all it takes is a small journey to teach you all these philosophies of life. A journey that changes your perception towards all the things you believed in. I undertook a similar journey, a week ago.

I was walking. I kept walking through the rocky trail as my body could feel the weight of every step I took.

The sun shone bright, but the air was still chilly. I looked around, gazed at the majestic Himalayas of the Garhwal , dipped in the shade of green. I could feel the duffel bag on my shoulders trying to pin me down. The wooden stick that I held for support was wet with my sweat. Our aim was far enough so as to not to be seen. I was on the Nag Tibba Trek, in Uttarakhand.  A trek that classifies itself as easy to moderate but at that moment, it was anything but that.

It all seemed treacherous, yet in its own way it was beautiful.  We had started from a hill village called Panthwari located at an altitude of 1300 meters in the Garhwal region of Utttarakhand. It was a steep climb over a rocky terrain, and our feet carefully refrained from stepping over any loose rock or soil. We placed each footing conscientiously. The clear blue sky that stretched afar embraced the mountains at its peaks. We walked on, troubled yet determined with an enigmatic smile on our faces. The view kept changing, as we crossed thatch roofed villages, shepherds grazing their cattle, village folks whose smile seemed to be the only source of motivation, gargling water springs the water of which could only taste sweet to our dried up mouths and then there were the friendly chatter of my 8 co-trekkers, musings and laughers; circumstances and situations that either made us compete or bound us together. We were sure to have completed at least 3 kilometers after an hour and a half of trekking, but Shubham, our 15 year old trek guide hailing from Panthwari, much amused by our snail pace, stunned us by declaring how we had only covered 1.5 kilometers so far. The rocks continued to bark the path and all of us pined for the forest trail to start. But we still had a few more kilometers more of stones and occasional animal bones to get through with. The trek got tougher but the scenery only more breath-taking with each passing step.

We occasionally stopped for breaks, as we sat down silently panting, looking around and wondering how much more beautiful can this world get, staring at the queer shaped dense mountains, or the path that so prettily twirled around it. The valley that we over saw, made us realize how high we had come up and then we overlooked at the towering cliffs above us that we were still to cross, but suddenly it didn’t seem that difficult anymore.

We continued our trek, through the narrow trails.

The rocky path had now ceased to exist for I could feel the dry leaves crush beneath my feet, and the cool shade of the trees above my head. Aah! The beginning of a 5 kilometers forest trail, I was ecstatic. There was something so amazing about the forests. The mystery that they entailed, the so many secrets that they hid amongst its twirling –winding paths, dense bushes and hovering trees. The occasional alarm calls from one animal or the other, and the weather that had now considerably cooled down gave the chills to our exhausted bodies. We had been trekking now for around 4 hours and were not even half way through. However there was something about the wilderness, something about these pristine jungles, which instilled a new energy into us. I remember coming across an open field, lined with soaring Deodars.

The sun was setting and the sunlight peeped through between the trees giving incredible shades and hues of yellow, orange, green and pink. It is at that moment that I realized that nature was capable of so much. How naturally it showed its many shades to us. It changed every passing moment, showing us a new face of its splendid beauty, each passing moment. It looked like a scene from a fairy tale. The woods where Red Riding Hood came for a walk or where Snow White got lost. Such was its fascination.

Gaining some inspiration just from the thought of those fairy tales, we continued the trek. The last one hour was probably the most difficult, for our bodies had almost given up. It was pitch dark now, the animal calls and the hustle bustle behind the bushes and on the trees was spooky. Figuring out the path in the dark and dragging our bodies through the trail, my heart exclaimed with joy as I caught a glimpse of our tents.

We had finally, after 7 hours of trekking through the rocky terrain and the forest trail reached the Nag Tibba Base Camp at 2600 meters height.We were elated.

After being allotted our tents, the first thing I did was gaze upwards. The night sky dazzled with twinkling stars. Hundreds of them, just looking down on us. I had forgotten what a sky full of stars looked like. One didn’t get to see it in the city. It was breathtaking, the kind of beauty that left you gasping. How I wished it wasn’t so cold, for I could have stayed up all night gazing at those stars. A bonfire was lit and we all sat around it. As we warmed our bodies, our conversations too warmed up. I had been traveling with my best friend from many years and although I felt we had grown apart when we went off to separate colleges, all those memories and cherished times came back as we chattered playfully, laughing and recollecting and reminiscing memories of the past. We were the same, nothing had changed. The Great Outdoors, the wilderness, the majestic Himalayas that lay right in front of us- the stars that shined, the trees that stood with all their might, the soil we sat upon, the wind that blew, everything –it had the power to humble us down and make us realize how powerless we were in front of the natural world and also how it was also our guardian. The night in the wild didn’t seem to scare me. In fact I felt secure. We had emerged from here, we were a part of it and as long as we respected it, no harm could come unto us.

 Dinner was served. As we ate and chatted, with the fire burning bright, I couldn’t help but look at the stars above, every once in a while. They seemed to appear and disappear. But the sky still looked phenomenal. After dinner was done, and the fire had almost died down I could feel my fingers go numb because of the cold. My feet ached like anything, but I knew in my heart that all I had was this night to absorb this spectacular allure and make the most of it, so I  set up my tripod which was a rather difficult task given that my fingers just refused to work in that jack frost. Worst was the fact, that the campsite was pitch dark and I had to work with a torch. After the set-up I started clicking the starry night with the aim to capture its divinity as it is, but my failed attempts at night photography got me nowhere near that. After just 20 minutes my fingers had given up and I stopped, looked up. “I guess my camera tonight cannot do justice to the radiant sky”, I thought to myself. Packing up, I got ready to sleep. The tents were tiny and I was glad to have been sharing it with my best friend. My body was tired, exhausted to be precise but my mind still felt fresh. Maybe it was those mountain hills or maybe it was just the excitement of being in such a fascinating place. I got into my sleeping bag and waited to fall asleep. But I did not. Neither did my friend.  We were too cold to fall asleep. Our tent was wet too with the dew and thus after failed attempts at sleeping we continued our crazy conversations through the night. I went out of the tent to pull out woolen clothes from my bag to warm myself and what I saw left me mesmerized. There was a pin drop silence; the mountains around me looked beautiful. It was not pitch dark, but the sky was sort of deep-purplish and it glistened with stars and this time the sky was full. The stars I realized, they shine the brightest in a clear sky. I realized how this was a metaphor to life. One has to let go of all inhibitions and insecurities-clear their mind and only then they would achieve success and be able to shine like the stars that twinkled in that amazing night sky.

 My friend and I did not sleep a wink that night, we had shivered through the night, desperately hoping it doesn’t affect our performance as trekkers. The next morning, we got up rather early, the dawn hadn’t yet arrived, and it was still twilight. Somehow I struggled out in the cold with a bottle of water to freshen up. (There were no bathrooms). My fingers became pink and seemed to swell up as they came in contact with the cold water. I washed my face- telling my mind I could take this frost, and that it is all in my mind. I could do this. After freshening up, I held my bottle in the arm so that I could warm my fingers in the pocket and went to the big kitchen hut to fetch water for my friend so that she too could get sleep off her eyes.  Shuddering and shivering, with my teeth clattering, I struggled to get my hands of my pocket. Extending the bottle to the kitchen bhaiya, I asked for water. “Lijie Garam Pani lenge aap?” (Would you like warm water) he asked rather cheerfully …. I stared at him in bewilderment. There was hot water? Here I had risked  my life to hypothermia by washing myself with that ice-cold water , completely oblivious to even the existsnce of hot water in this cold godforsaken land and now this guy was offering me hot water. I kept my bottle down … “just pour some on my frozen hands”, I said and as soon as the hot water trickled on to my palms and fingers, I felt a sudden rush of life into myself. Nothing could have felt better than that. Carrying hot water for my lucky friend, I told her of the incident and she burst out laughing. Nothing like laughter to start the day with.

We were supposed to trek up till the summit of Nag Tibba that morning. I was excited to see the world up from there. We stopped at the Nag Temple on our way over there. A simple sloped roofed temple which was closed but Hanumanti Ji, Shubham’s father and our trek guide for the day told us about its fascinating history. It is very difficult to find water on the hills in the absence of any river. Apparently this temple had a ‘kund’ that has been become a natural source of water for all the villages on the hills. In fact the people here are avid worshipers of the Nag Devta.

In fact Nag Tibba itself is believed to be the abode of 'Nag Devta' or snake god, from which it borrows the first part of its name; 'Tibba' is a local word for hill or peak. Local villagers come here to offer their prayers to Nag Devta for the protection of their cattle.

After our visit to the temple we continued to ascend the hill to reach the summit of Nag Tibba. The trek although was not as tough, but the lack of sleep made us really slow climbers. The trail though was beautiful and the morning breeze made it all the more amazing. The chirping of the birds, the fresh whiff of air and a distant view of the Himalayan snowline, it was picture perfect. After about an hour and a half of our climb up, we saw the peak decorated with flag posts that came alive with the sunlight that fell directly upon it. I looked below my feet at the dew drops that had freezed overnight on the green grass and with the kiss of the sun; they appeared to be a fantastic shade of pale blue.

They went up till the peak, and me and my friend rushed towards it. We were here, we had done it. 3022 feet-up above the world so high, we had successfully trekked the highest peak of the Garhwal region.  As we stood there, our heads held high I looked around in amazement. It is true when they say, “Climb mountains, not because the world can see you, but so that you can see the world”.

The green mountains that we had been for so long surrounded by, had turned white. I felt at the top of the world literally. At that moment all our fatigue, our worries, our inhibitions seemed to go away. The sun shone perfectly, and we just lay down there to feel the calm and the tranquility that the moment brought. A 20 minute nap under the sun seemed enough for our drained bodies, and thus after a picture session we all trekked down leaving our footprints and our hearts at the Nag Tibba Summit but carrying back cherished memories with us.

Treks downhill are what I dread the most. One wrong step and down you go. And that’s what made me slow down on our trek downhill. We reached back at the basecamp, where we were certified for our achievement of reaching the summit. 

I wasn’t particularly keen to trek down. A part of me wanted to build a house up there and never go back but we all find out motivation, don’t we? A slight comment on my and my friend’s slow speed on the trek downhill from the summit seemed to trigger us off and we acquired supersonic speed just to prove everyone wrong.  We were trekking down through the forest trail, not stopping even for once, and we came at par with the fastest trekkers of our trip- 3 Jaatt men from Haryana. We weren’t being accompanied by any of our guides and this was the first real adventure trek, as we were supposed to find our own way for a while. And like all legendary adventure epics, we were destined to get lost.  Debates, arguments, affirmations all sparked, while the 5 of us tried to convince ourselves that we had indeed taken the right path. All the trails in the forest seemed similar. One on the 3 Jaat men came up with a theory that we were in fact on the other side of the hill whereas someone said we had taken a longer route and it would take days for us to get back. Calls for Help, map drawings on soil, everyone had their own theories. Getting lost was a thrill in itself and we had no option than to continue trekking down. “We will reach somewhere, let’s just continue walking” I said, until we came to an open field that looked like a dead end. Now almost all of us were convinced we were lost, but I was happy, I at least had a story to tell. The arguments died down and the silence that followed made us hear footsteps and voices. Finally humans. YES. We shouted at the top of our voices. “HELP, WE ARE HERE…HELLOOOO???? WAIT UP THERE A VOICE YELLED BACK”. And our trek camp director came out from the bushes, almost like a hero. “What is your speed even, quite impressive though?” He remarked. “I had warned you that one wrong trail and it would take days to find your way back but lucky for you, this is a rather difficult shortcut that you guys took”. And just like that we realized what had taken us 3 hours the previous day took us just two hours this day. 

 We continued descending down, came across friendly women who seemed to walk down so easily, that too smiling and talking amongst themselves. Funny how what was life for the poor, was adventure for the rich. We trekked down the rocky path which was the most challenging and after 5 hours when I saw the sight of those thatched roofs and village huts, my heart did a little dance. No matter how much I had enjoyed yet detested this trip, coming back felt good. A hearty evening snack, a few jolly conversations, and promises to keep in touch, and our Nag Tibba trek came to a happy ending. Our bodies were exhausted, but our souls were overjoyed.

The Nag Tibba Trek- we had despised it during our ascend, during our sleepless night, but there had been beautiful moments that had overpowered the distress. The nap on the summit, the wallop of getting lost, the dazzling night sky,  the opportunity of meeting new people, the winter chill, the green hills, the snowy peaks,  the many happy conversations, the smiling faces and most of all the journey that had obliquely taught us not only about nature and wilderness, but about finding our own motivation, relying on our own strength and will power, confronting each situation optimistically and most importantly to never ever give up, because ahead of a difficult journey lies a wonderful exploration that makes every drop of sweat, every aching body part, absolutely worth it. The Nag Tibba gave me many beautiful insights, the best one being,

Somewhere, something amazing is waiting to be known and if the mountains are calling, then you must go!

TOP OF THE WORLD

TOP OF THE WORLD

Ruskin Bond in his book, Notes from the Hill says

“Ï learned early without quite realizing it that the pleasure of travel is the journey and not so much in reaching one’s destination. The adventure is not in arriving, its on-the-way experience. You are not choosing what you shall see in the world, but giving the world an even chance to see you.”

Nothing describes the Rajgad Trek that we undertook as our  college field trip, better than this excerpt from Notes from the Hills. Ever since our history professor,Sagar Sir had been scaring us with the idea of how difficult this trek was going to be, I was counting days for it to happen. Being someone who loves the great outdoors and all the adventures it gets along, I knew I was going to love every bit of Rajgad.

We left the campus, early morning on August 28^th. The bus journey was 2.5 hours long and as soon as we drifted away from the highway and took a muddy path to the village which was our base stop, I realized what a different world we had set foot in. It was a classic picturesque landscape. The majestic Sahyadris dipped in shades of green, the occasional ponds, little villages with hay-stacked roofs, children running around playing with sticks and the sun that shone not so brightly, I felt as if I was living inside a postcard. Most journeys do tire you, but there are occasional things of beauty that instill a new energy within. The road off the highway was one such thing.

We finally got down in a village from where our trek was supposed to begin. At first, the steep was gradual. Since it had been raining earlier, the mud was wet and slippery. In the first half an hour we found ourselves taking breaks every 10 minutes. It was during one of these breaks, where we all crowded on a narrow path, that Sagar Sir pointed us to the hill right across the valley. We could make out faint boundary walls high up the hill that had just been uncovered with the clouds. “We only have to trek up this hill and then cross it over till there” Sagar Sir said rather obviously pointing to the fort across. Although sarcastic, his mockery always amused us and built up our will power. Setting foot on the path again, we continued the ascend. There were several parts where I needed a hand (or hands) to help me cross, or pull me over. Many times even I would provide a hand to the needy. We would fall, wait for others to laugh and then eventually get up. Joking, singing songs, helping and motivating others, the 50 of us were bonding like never before. Usually in classrooms, people prefer to stay and work in their own groups but here at least I got to interact, help and journey with batch mates, I had never talked properly to before. Here there were no groups. All the 50 students trekked up as one team. This is the thing about travel. You realize the uniformity, you ealize how aWe would seldom stop, not only to catch our breath but to observe and absorb the spectacular beauty around. The greenery around was therapeutic and we realized we were deep in the Sahyadri forests. After almost coming halfway, we were relieved to see a small stall of a person selling lemonade. All of us rushed to savor its sweet taste. And at that time the lemonade tasted nothing but like the elixir of heaven. Trekking further each path offered a different challenge. We either had to try too hard not to slip or too hard, not to fall off the cliff. It was only towards the end of our ascend that we realized that we had not only been walking through the clouds but were now above it. The most difficult parts were the rocky patches. The first rocky patch was a piece of a cake as compared to the second which was almost a vertical climb. Thankfully there were metal rods to the sides which proved to be a huge HELP to our nearly dead bodies. Putting our weight on the rods and dragging the body upwards while creating a strong footing on the rocks gave me an adrenaline rush which I enjoyed. As I finally my final step through the CHOR DARWAZA, my aching body did a little dance on the inside.

Ruskin Bond’s lines justified the sight completely. To be honest I was disappointed. There was hardly anything. Just a few walls in the ruins, a few old temples for people to stay in and some secret alleys those were out of bounds. The only thing absolutely mesmerizing was a pale green volcanic water body that looked beautiful amidst the mist.

The fort of Rajgad has witnessed many historic events. It was capital of the Maratha Empire during the rule of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj for almost 26 years and the longest span that Shivaji ever stayed in this fort. It was also one of the 17 forts that Shivaji kept while signing the Treaty of Purandar. The fort has been the venue for the birth of Shivaji’s son Rajarama and the death of his wife Queen Saibai. The burial of Adil Shah, a formidable enemy of Shivaji also happened in the walls of BAAL-E-KILLA, situated at the highest point of the fort. Sagar Sir asked us, if we had the energy to trek up to there and surprisingly everyone was interested. The spirits of the exhausted body seemed to be lifted up by the view which we got from above. We were at the top of the world, literally. The 10 minute walk to Baal-e-Killa has been the best walk of my life till date. A narrow twisty curvy path where we were often greeted by leaning trees on the right and the view of the valley on the left as the leaves crunched below our feet, the wind whispered in our ears and  the raindrops kissed our faces. The nature had absorbed us completely and was showing us its different shades. And one not so pretty shade that it showed us was the heavy rain that made it impossible for us to go ahead to Baal-E-Killa. But I believe half of us were glad, for now we could explore the fort our way. Wandering about, clicking pictures we tried to make the most of it. We were told that the fort is being reconstructed to its glory.

As much as I had been looking forward to trekking up, I had been dreading the trek down. The descend had always scared me. I did not trek down, I slid. Whenever I thought I couldn’t go down a patch without toppling forward, I just sat down and slid till a walk able patch came. I did this (and encouraged others too) almost 3/4^th of my trek down and it was an experience in itself. I remember this one patch where I was completely on my own. Some people were too ahead of me and some too behind. It was a wide stretch of green with a few cattle grazing. I took that alone time to absorb the nature and understand its metaphors. I liked how peaceful the chaos of the nature was. It was one of the most amazing parts of my whole trek. The trek down seemed really long for a part of me could not wait to reach the bus, while a part of me never wanted this beautiful journey to end.

The best thing you can offer a tired person is FOOD and the village was kind enough to serve us hot and delicious local Maharashtrian cuisine.  Nothing could end the trek better than Pithla, Koshimbir , Daal and Rice. Being at the top of the world was beautiful but coming back down was not that bad either because now we had stories to tell, stories of the journey to the top and stories of the world from above. Stories of falling down, rising up and the stories of the many moods of nature. Stories of bonding, stories of friendship; stories that became memorable chapters of one beautiful journey to the Royal Fort of Rajgad.

THE DESI FOOD COURT OF BARODA : RAATRI BAZAAR

THE DESI FOOD COURT OF BARODA : RATRI BAZAAR

Image source: beyondkhidki.com

“I am going to have dabeli”; papri chaat; paani puri; sev puri; dahi vada once we get to Vadodara”, my friend announced excitedly while we were on the bus from Pune to Vadodara. My ears suddenly caught attention with the mention of food. “Is Baroda famous for all this”? I asked my other friend, who hailed from that city. “Why don’t you wait until tomorrow to find out” she said. “Foodies like you won’t be disappointed.”

Exactly 24 hours later, I was standing across a peculiar market square, fascinated at the board that was illuminated by the street light above. Ratri Bazaar, it read. As I took in the aroma of the different flavors of the food, my taste buds were aroused even after having had a heavy Eid lunch just some few hours ago.

“You cannot come to Baroda, and not go to Ratri Bazaar”; my friend exclaimed proudly.

Is Ratri Bazaar a Bazaar really? I would beg to differ. Ratri Bazaar isn’t really a Bazaar but something much more than that. I don’t think you can give it a name, for a concept like this doesn’t really exist, except here in Baroda. A market square in a busy area of Karelibaug,Baroda, The Ratri Bazaar is an eat street of about 42 eateries, spread over 15851 square meters or so, initiated by the Vadodara Municipal Corporation, serving all kinds of cuisines. From authentic Guajarati food to Darjeling Momos,Italian, Chinese, Mexican and what not,(all having a gujju touch ) with a huge sitting area in the middle, it operates every day from 5pm to 1 am and 5pm-4 am during the Navratri season , when it dazzles the most. Some might say, it’s like a Desi version of a food court in a mall, only cheaper and better.

Image source(above): Vadodara magazine

Talk about Desi and not talk about Paani Puri is just not done, and this is one of the things Ratri Bazaar is famous for. Located right at the entrance, is Champak Bhai’s stall of one of the best paani puri you will get in India. Served in the most typical style ever, Champak Bhai’s stall has 5 jars of flavored Paani-Regular, Hajma Hajam, Mint, Garlic and Lemon. Before we could order what we wanted, Champak bhai very joyfully gave us one Paani Puri after the other continuously,  till we had completed 2 rounds of each flavor that brought in a different sensation, defying the law of marginal utility. We had a total of 10 Paani Puri’s just for 20 bucks. Guess we were back in the 20^th century again. As we held on to our stomachs, wanting for more, deciding between heart and the reason, Champak bhai smiled at us, knowing that he had made his customers truly happy.

Walking straight ahead from the paani puri stall, the passage opened up to a full square, with the eateries surrounding a space covered with cheap plastic chairs and tables, filled with friends and families enjoying delicacies, clicking pictures and having a good time. The chaos of the market was exciting. There were huge frying Kadhais with Hot Jalebis frying at one corner, and Noodles at the other end. The vendors yelled out their specialties, sent out young waiters to personally invite (read force) the customers to come to their food joints. “Madame- Idhar special Manchurian rice”; “Didi- Aaiye PIZZA khaiye”; “Didi-Pasta”; “Madam- spicy Chaat”; “dhabeli 20 ki 2” ; a part of me really wished for a portable stomach I could carry around at amazing  places like these, where you had to binge eat to try out everything.

 

 

Since my perpetually hungry friend had made a check list of what all she wanted to eat, in the bus the day before, we went to the Chaat Shop and ordered Paapri Chaat, Sev Puri and Dabeli, all of which was over in a few minutes. One eatery particularly amused me, given its sassy name. “HUNGRY BIRDS-FLY HUNGRY AND FEEL HAPPY with a picture of an angry bird holding a fork. I was so impressed that I went ahead to take a picture and the owner very generously offered me his card, for “home delivery”. My Gujju friend then dragged me to a little stall in the corner. COLD COCO-only Rs. 30 it said on the board. “Let me give you a drink of what these alcohol deprived Gujju People get high on”, she said and ordered a cold coco for me. My mouth drooled as I saw him churn out thick liquid chocolate from huge silver utensil and pour it in a plastic glass. And as I took the first sip, I died and went to heaven. Not exaggerating, every chocoholic’s life is incomplete without having this elixir from the gardens of heaven. COLD COCO’s   is so sweet, so chocolaty and so divine that as it melts on your tongue; you forget your sense of being. It’s the chocolate sutra.

 

(A conversation with the owner of Cold Coco Stall owner)

ME:Bhaiya kya naam hai appka?

HIM: Bantu Bhai

ME: Apne mera din bana dia, cold Coco banake !!!

Kitna Famous hai Cold Coco Bhaiya? Bhot tasty hai

HIM: Gujarat mai fanous hai; roz bhot customer aate hai- Kamaai bhi theekthaak ho jati hai.

*Smiles a million dollar smile as I take a picture,

 flattered by the attention.*

As the families came and went, as we were called to more food joints, as we hogged more chaat and as I still obsessed over Cold Coco, and complained about not being able to try every single one of those 42 eateries (since the night wasn’t getting any younger, and we weren’t getting any thinner), I realized what a delight was this place to be in. Ratri Bazaar is a foodie’s delight, a cultural hub, a traveler's extravaganza and every Barodian’s favourite hangout to suffice those midnight cravings.    They say, that food is the common ground, a universal experience and almost no place else, other than RATRI BAZAAR holds true this fact for you find something for everyone and as you come together to rejoice the good food, memories are made, and laughter is the brightest where food is the best.

Go binge eat for your next dinner at the Ratri Bazaar, and your night will be turn out to be a Shubh Ratri sure.