A Road Much Travelled

When I first travelled on the Bombay-Pune highway sometime in 1985, I had no idea that it was to be the ‘road most travelled’ in my life. That road has given me many lovely memories - from very romantic rides to a life-changing journey when we took Jaya home ( read Kats, Rains and The Woods by clicking here). Of course, it was then the old highway - winding steeply across the Lonavala ghats (traversing some 2000 feet in just about 7 kms). There was that mandatory stop at Ramakant in Khopoli for Vada-Pavs and occasionally a beer or 2, when one was not travelling on work.

In the monsoons driving through the ghats was a near surrealistic experience. At one level it was the sheer beauty of torrid rain tearing the veil of low-hanging clouds – like the gushing waterfall guarding the entrance to Phantom’s cave. And, there was that edge-of-the-seat tension – as the rickety old Fiats and rattling Ambassadors struggled to negotiate the bends and curves, their frail wipers flapping feebly - wilting under the force of the downpour and the driver leaning forward with his nose almost touching the windscreen in the mistaken belief that, by doing so he could see the road ahead better.

Aati kya Khandala

By the time we left Pune in 1996 – construction of the new “Expressway” had just begun. Only the small link stretch from Pashan to Dehu Road had been completed – which was generally unused except by lovers for a long drive on a moonlit night. Not for once did I think then - that I would have to keep going back on that route in the years to come.

But exactly 10 years later, the road beckoned me again. On a wintry Feb morning in 2006, I drove up the new Expressway for the first time to check out – what would be Jaya’s new school, nestled in the Sahyadri Hills on the way to Bhimashankar, off the Pune-Nashik highway (Read Back to School by clicking here). Since then, I have been travelling on it – practically once every month, sometimes even twice, more than I do (or have ever done) on any other highway.

Of course – what now appears like a ribbon-like path has been forsaken for the 6 lane racing tracks. The old Ramakant has been replaced by giant Food Malls. (There’s only one outlet that sells decent Vada-pavs – Shree Datta – on the down lane just before the Khalapur Toll-naka). Romance has given way to the thrill of speed.

Earlier it used to be said that, the time taken and cost of travel were roughly the same – no matter which mode of transport you chose – Road, Rail or Air. I remember the fare on the Avro Shuttle flights was then Rs 145 and a first-class ticket on the Deccan Queen Rs 105. The shared taxi was Rs 90 – I think. The travel time on the DQ was three and a half-hour and by road it was a little over 4 hours. Though the flying time was only 20 minutes – taking into account the time spent in traveling to / from and waiting at the airport – it still added to around 3½ to 4 hours.

While the cost equation has gone terribly awry (air tickets now cost nearly Rs 3k and the AC Char Car fare on the humble DQ is Rs 250) – surprisingly, there hasn’t been much improvement on the time factor. Point to point, from one end of the Expressway to the other, one can comfortably reach in an hour and a half (between the 2 toll-nakas of Khalapur/Khopoli and Talegaon - a distance of about 70 kms – I clock an average of 45 minutes). But the entry and exit at both Pune and Mumbai have become a veritable nightmare – of course, Mumbai more so. Getting to Panvel from anywhere in Mumbai can take up to 90 minutes even on a good day. The return traffic can be far worse - Sundays and weekends are no exception. So, all told, unless you are travelling early in the morning or returning very late at night – it still takes nearly 4 hours either way.

Sadly, something else hasn’t changed too. Overturned trucks and tankers were always a common sight on the ghats. Inexperienced drivers of over-loaded vehicles often lost balance on the sharp turns. Frequently one also saw crumpled evidence of some major collisions from the night before. These would generally be found on the Lonavala-Pune stretch where the road was broader and the traffic thin – tempting drivers to step on the gas.

Cousins of Shumacher

Actually, in my opinion, it is the close proximity of Mumbai and Pune – which is the main cause of accidents. Because of the relatively short distance between the 2 cities, many motorists – who would have otherwise not ventured on a highway are lured by the road. This culture of highway adventurism has further increased with the new Expressway. Most people think it is the Indian equivalent of German Autobahns where there are no limits on speed. Probably, at a subliminal level they fancy themselves as distant cousins of Michael Shumacher – and have this irresistible urge to hit the road and burn rubber for vicariously experiencing the joys and highs of Formula One racing .

The official ‘speed limit’ is 80 kmph for the greater part – but most people never drive at less than a 100, often going beyond to 120 or more. Even on the ghat-sections – where the recommended limit is 30kmph – very few drop the speedometer below 80 or a 60 at best. With no idea of the rules of highway driving, let alone etiquette, lane cutting and overtaking is rampant. Staying on your own lane is no guarantee – as vehicles that come hurtling at monstrous speeds would either chase you off the track or overtake dangerously from the left with every chance of your losing control in a momentary lapse of concentration or reflex.

While the long-distance buses and over-loaded Sumos ferrying passengers are a menace, the real high-risk category are the small cars – the Altos, Swifts, Santros and their clones. Apart from overturning easily, these lightweight cars are prone to tyre-bursts at high-speed, which is almost always fatal on an Expressway. Therefore, it is easy to come-by the crushed remains of a car that was flung across the divider and hit a vehicle coming from the opposite direction.

I can understand that, it may not be possible to control lane cutting without highway patrols with their own fast cars as they have in the West. But, why can’t we impose speed control with the help of cameras that are now easily available and eminently affordable. If we wish to catch up with the developed world by building such arterial freeway , we should also adopt some of their good practices too. Basic safety should be a matter of right for the users of a toll-road. The toll operators should be made to compulsorily install speed-control equipments – such as radars and cameras - as a pre-condition of their license. Equally, the state authorities are duty bound to enforce regulations that they themselves have set. But then, human lives always come cheap in our country – be it in terrorist attacks or road accidents.

Vada-pavs on the bend

Without such safeguards, every trip is a test of nerves for which I routinely tank myself with caffeine – at the first gas-station immediately upon entering the Expressway. On occasions when I feel energetic enough to drive right through – usually on the return leg of the journey - I definitely stop for a break before the exit toll-naka – either for a coffee at the new well appointed CCD or tea and Vada-Pav at Shree Datta. But then, I was not cut out for living life on the fast-lane anyway.

Virtual Marathon

As a rookie Management Trainee, I had inherited from him the Barsati at Dr Shirole’s Paediatrics Nursing Home – near the Fergusson College (in Pune), as he - being a confirmed Manager - moved up into a prized ‘River-view’ apartment by the mosquito infested Mulla – Mutha in Koregaon Park (the added bonus was the then buzzing Rajeneesh' Osho Ashram just up his street, pun intended) . But, what he didn’t hand me down was his famed little ‘black book’, which – according to his batchmates – contained the telephone numbers of some 200 girls. In college and at the IIM he was known to be a “killer” and with his mobike, his smile, his manners he was every bit of the guy for whom girls fell – like the proverbial ninepins. His friends called him – not inappropriately, I suppose – “the Geese” (twisting his last name a bit).

Yet there was an innocent and trusting side to him. Very early in my stint, I was sent to investigate a cash defalcation at his unit. All fingers pointed at one man - the affable and genial Plant-in-Charge – who was a ‘god-father’ of sorts to the all the staff. Till the end, before evidence nailed him, Rahul refused to believe that he could be the one who had his hand in the till. The only thing odd about this guy, he said, was that he had never introduced his wife to him. Something we joked was perfectly understandable given Rahul’s rakish reputation and only went to prove the man’s deep and furtive instincts.

'Sweemeing and Break-faast'

We struck a rapport after this little saga and the standing joke between us was to go for "sweemeeing and break-faast” (sic) for which our boss – a vet by training - had invited us as a placatory tactic to cover his embarrassment at our blowing the lid of a scandal which he had tried hard to shove – quite literally - under the huge pile of maize in our Animal Feeds factory.

Soon thereafter, from feeding poultry and cattle, Rahul graduated to selling chocolates and milk powder at Nestles. Between all that, the ‘cat’ was nettled by Jamuna (much to the disappointment, we conjectured, of his country cousin ex-Director, who - we used to tease Rahul - surely had his eyes on him as a prospective s-i-l; tho' his daughter later surprised him by marrying someone - to use his own words - from the ‘cow-belt’). I suspect the “Geese” in Rahul was finally grounded by the arrival of their 2 daughters Diya and Nayana (whom I haven’t met yet) – as daughters are wont to do to their Dads (don’t I know!!).

Track 2

And, before long – we heard the Vergheses had shifted to Chicago, where Rahul had taken up a job with Motorola. We were in touch, very infrequently, mostly on email – speaking a couple of times over the phone when I was visiting the US. While in Kathmandu, I recall meeting his Dad (a doyen among Editors – now a near extinct species) who had come as the leader of a ‘Track 2’ Diplomatic delegation to discuss the ever-so-sensitive issue of joint water resource management with Nepal. The old man told me that, Rahul had taken to running in a big way and was going to take part in the next Chicago Marathons. Not being an athletic type myself, I didn’t know what to make of that. Since we were all by now over the 40s mark – I thought it would at best be jogging across the park rather than around it.


After that, we lost contact for a while until I suddenly came across his by-line in a fitness column of the MINT sometime early last year – thus figuring out that they were back in India. I obtained his co-ordinates from a common friend and spoke to him. We promised to meet up soon and go for “sweemeeing and break-faast”, which needless to add never happened.

On the edge

Next – a few weeks ago on a flight, I saw this article in the Saturday Supplement of the Business Standard titled “On the edge of the mainstream”. It was about, “ A few good people who decided to good jobs for better ideas” and Rahul (Salim) Verghese was one of them.

Reading on – I discovered, quitting his job at Motorola, Rahul had set up his own company Running and Living Infotainment Pvt Ltd (http://www.runningandliving.com/) to promote “running” among Indians. He calls himself the “Chief Believer” of the company. Quite a shift from “Sweemeeing” , I thought.

The concept was - to put it mildly – alien to someone like me. We were brought up in a company culture – where Golf was taboo and any other form of sports or physical exercise was gently discouraged – as it would be seen as lack of 100% dedication to the job. Any mention of the need to keep fit was disparaged with a gentle reminder of the rather generous medical benefits the company provided to take care of any old age ailments and in case you copped it while in harness – the superannuation package was unmatched in the industry (thus ran the adage that ‘ ours may not be the best company to work for but it is a great company to die for or retire from' ).

But is their money in Marathons (especially in India) – beyond the few corporate sponsored runs in the Mumbai, Delhi and now also singara Chennai? Evidently, Rahul believes there is.

the ADA syndrome

It seems that ever since ADA made running a status statement – Corporate India has taken to running in a big way. A classic example is Rahul and my old company – which has shed its sedentary (and sedate) image and running has become kind of a cult in the organization. It started with, I believe, the previous Chairman, a close buddy of ADA joining him for the occasional long jogs, followed by the expat CEO who came after him, who was an avid runner even in his mid fifties, inspiring along the way some of his other colleagues – young and old – to hit the road with him.

This lent weight to the hypothesis that, the climb up on the corporate ladder happens on a horizontal track. The theory was proven by the appointment of the new CEO – who is not only the youngest, but also - probably - the fittest, to have decisively piped his peers to the post.

But interestingly – the business model of Rahul’s company isn’t based on sponsorships alone. They sell affordable running gears and most importantly conduct leadership and team building workshops using running as a means to promote energy, health, optimism, self confidence and, of course, high performance. Additionally, they mentor running clubs within the organisation so that this becomes a powerful self-sustaining 'movement'.

His company’s brand line reads – “Unleash your Potential: "Do not lower your expectations to your abilities but raise your abilities to your expectations". I say, those who can - run. Others write Blogs. I call it “Virtual Marathon”.

Back to School

Going to Jaya’s school in the monsoons is always such a treat.

Braving the rains on the Lonavala Ghats that puts you just so much on the edge speeding through the Mumbai-Pune Expressway, negotiating the truck-traffic and pot-holes of the Talegaon-Chakan section ( Pune’s new Industrial District ), as one turns off the Nashik highway at Rajgurunagar (Khed ) unending miles of green-hills greet us. Till just a couple of months ago, when we had gone to drop her off at the beginning of the term, they had shades of brown and golden yellow - still pretty like a dusky young bride wrapped in her Maharshtrian saree. But, now suddenly she was resplendent in green – the young wife in full bloom on the cusp of motherhood.

Finishing our mandatory stop for Poha or Chewda just before leaving the highway, we climb in soft pedal up the ribbon-like road towards Bhimashankar. As the town recedes, the population thins out and tiny hamlets begin to appear along the way, spaced afar from each other. It is hard to believe that so close to Mumbai – there can be a place of such unspoilt beauty, still untouched by the city marauders.

We reach the Chas-Khaman Dam which holds back the Bhima River from overflowing into the plains of Pune and get a first glimpse of the lake now full to its brim looking ready to spill over on the paramours lap. At this point one first sees the dots of the school dormitories up there, as if spying on the play at the banks of the lake – like the naughty teenagers who live in them - from a stealthy distance.

Going past the Shambhu Hill – which, as the name indicates, has Shiva temple atop nestled in the forest, we get to the fork from where the road to the school branches off, a short climb up the Tiwai Hill to the table-top plateau where the school is spread over 70 acres. Even in the last 2 years that we have been going there, the young forest – of teak and Jamul planted by the school - has thickened showing its first signs of moving from adolescence to maturity, though still someway from attaining adulthood. But, still it conjures up the feeling of driving through a light jungle.

Up there at the school, the rain-drenched trees and the slushy foot-ball and volley ball fields – with the boys emerging from them like little devils after a mud-bath – make another kind of a sight altogether. Though there are no flowers in this season and the fruits too are not in sight – the lush green all around gives it a certain pristine character.

Though the afternoons tend to get a little warm when it’s not raining, the mornings and evenings are invariably pleasant with a cool breeze coming up from the lakes wafting through the trees. And, an occasional light drizzle gently soaking the skin.

The sparsely appointed (basic yet comfortable) rooms in the guest-house, the home-style and near rustic food of the school canteen and the adds to the feeling of a holiday in the country side.

At sunset – one can walk across to the neighbouring Navalvirayatan , a meditation and retreat center, set up by a Jain foundation, and go till the right edge of the cliff to get an unhindered view of the Bhimashankar Lake – silent, calm and the ultimate picture of serenity - , while watching the sun set over the Lonavala hills afar. And, it’s then one begins to understand a little bit of what Krishnamurti meant by…. To live is to be related (and) there is no right relationship to anything when there is not the right feeling for beauty and a response to nature…


And then, suddenly the reverie snaps - as one hears that in just a couple of years the new Pune International Airport would come up in Rajgurunagar – when the school will be right on the flight path of the jets that would tear thunderously through the skies on their landings and take-offs. Land-sharks have already moved in grabbing the hill-sides smelling the opportunity of making a quick buck. And very soon, one won’t hear the tweeter of the birds and the rustle of the leaves any more. The children – looking up into the skies will count air planes rather than see shapes in the clouds or study the constellations at night. The sylvan landscape will make way for a concretized sky-line and the neighbourhood would be swallowed up by the swelling city of Pune as one of its newest suburb. The Tiwai Hills will be transformed for good. But one hopes that, Sahyadri will still remain a little island of tranquility where children can learn about the totality and the wholeness of life, just as Rishi Valley continues to be even after 75 years despite the onslaught of the environment around it.

Related Blog Post: "Masti-ka-Pathshala" (to read click here)