Adventure in Devarayanadurga - Hill Station in Karnataka

What do bellies do when they're stranded on the top of a desolate hill all night without so much as a lone banana? They rumble. What do cars do when they're stuck on top with no gas or engine oil? They refuse to go on.

The single life entails adventure if you're up to it. In fact, much more adventure than does the double life. An adventure once in a while can help shake out the dust from the fabric of your world and open your eyes to new ways of seeing. And your heart to new vistas of goodwill inherent in human beings. It can also lead you to some essential truths about the state of your second hand car.

Had we not embarked upon this impulse trip to Devarayanadurga, a hill station some 80 km. From Bangalore, I wouldn't have known the difference between engine oil and gauge oil.

So there we were after an invigorating drive (sometimes scary to the guys but always invigorating for me who loves driving) on top of these scenic hills and the sunset already past; the waning moon yet to rise. Settling down on top of a gigantic expanse of rock, we admired the stars, more numerous than we had ever seen. We could actually pick out besides Orion's belt, the three stars of his sword hanging from his starry belt. The earth seemed to vie with the blazing heavens with its lights. Down in the plains they shone and twinkled so that it was difficult to tell where earth ended and sky began.

After an hour of star watching we decided to go down to the car and take off. But it wouldn't start. The only light on the hills came from a large temple complex right on top. There was, we surmised, no one there to help. The guys took turns sticking sticks into the petrol tank. There was none.
"What...how...why?" I blubbered. "But, but we filled enough gas, hey! Don't tell me we're stuck out here all night!" Only next afternoon were we to discover that not only was there hardly any engine oil, but the ancient carburetor had drunk up all the gas. There could have been a storm of comments such as:

"You shithead, why didn't you check the car out before we left?"

"So we're going to starve up here all night, maybe even all day tomorrow!"

"Suppose some wolf or something decides to check us out?"

"Suppose there are dacoits waiting out here?"
"Now we're stuck up here with not a soul in sight!"

"Where are we going to sleep?"

"I'm starving! Couldn't you think of bringing some grub along or something?"

"Well, we may as well enjoy it and go exploring in the moonlight," I said. "We'll check out the Yogalaksmi temple. Maybe someone will offer us a bed or two. Maybe we'll find a cave to sleep in." And up we went, Polash, a stoned student from Bangladesh, my old pal Apurva and Prakash, a most gentlemanly and caring sort, treading carefully in the light of a rising orange moon.

We did find what looked like a cave half way up the rock steps leading up to the temple and like excited children decided to investigate. It was cosy in there and no cold wind blowing either - for as we climbed higher, the wind got colder. Polash lit a match to see whether we could stretch out in there and we saw that it was pretty small and that it was a shrine to Hanuman whose bright red muzzle shone in the light.
We chatted there about life and love and our adventure before we commenced our climb.

The temple complex seemed abandoned and eerie. Somewhere a temple bell tinkled in the wind. We checked out rooms without windows or doors where the grass grew upon the floors. Uh huh. We couldn't sleep in any of them. Maybe the temple hallway then? But the rock beneath our butts was too hard for comfort. Maybe we'd find a little grassy spot or something. Maybe we'd find a wolf. We trudged on. I wanted to see the view below us which I had been told was "panoramic and not to be missed".

It was. Stretched out in the moonlight below us were the plains all twinkling with lights and more hills. We discovered a great flat rock upon which we ran with bare feet, the wind cold and whipping at us and nearly blowing me away. It dropped to a little sheltered space where the lichen was fragrant and spongy, great to lie upon. Here the cold wind could not get at us and I almost fell asleep; but then realizing that the hill dew in the dawn would fall upon us, we headed back to the car.

I don't know how we managed to squeeze in, but we did. Soon the absolutely silent night was filled with the rumblings of our starving bellies and the snores of Polash.

It was fun rolling down the hills except when we reached an uphill section and the guys had to push, their lungs burning with the cigarettes they'd been smoking. It was night by the time we got the car fixed (with the help of friendly villagers who gave up their lunch to help) and got back to Bangalore much wiser and happier than before.

For we had all learned a few things: There are more stars in the heavens than we can see in the city. In fact, no one had ever beheld so many in any sky above any other place.

There was no need to panic, for even dacoits would avoid such sheer desolation thinking that no one would be stupid enough to spend the night on top of a hill.

There are no wolves in that area.

One can make the best out of any situation without grumbling.

Never leave town without checking the car up thoroughly; find out the difference between engine oil and gauge oil and never underestimate the power of a thirsty carburetor. And finally, never park your car under a fig tree. When the figs hit the car, they look like spatters of shit.