Discovery happens when it is destined to. Adventure happens when you find the time.
I had been seeing it for the last couple of years. Whizzing
by it at speed. An intriguing silhouette against a dawn or dusk sky. And I
always wondered what it was, whose it was and where exactly was it.
Obviously it was an old structure. Exposed to the world
because the ORR had opened up parts of the city outskirts that had hitherto
been invisible to all except the truly wandering.
But being off the ORR (Outer Ring Road) I always saw it
while on my way to somewhere or on the way back home. In both instances there
was no time to spare, to take even a brief diversion to check out this place.
But yesterday it happened. No there was no thunder, no
lightning to herald the discovery. Just a lazy grey Sunday like holiday. A day
when I found that there was an aimless kind of wanderlust that the family (well,
a part of it anyway) was experiencing.
Let’s go somewhere, the wife said. Anywhere, said the kid.
Food destinations did not excite either of them so I started suggesting places
nearby that we could visit. That’s when life took over.
We can’t leave till after the maids finish, the wife said.
We have to come back before it’s the dog’s feed time, said the kid. It was at
best a 6 hour window. We had to leave, lunch, do whatever and come back in
those six hours and the time boundaries were rigid.
And yes, there was a Rock Society event hat the wife had to
attend in Gachibowli by 5 pm.
So it was all destined, preordained. I was tunneled into
choosing where to go, what to do. And how much time I had to do it. So I said,
look, there’s this fort like structure that I have been meaning to check out…shall
we carry a picnic lunch and shall we just go there and find out exactly what it
is.
Now that’s the trouble with destiny. When the time for
something to happen comes, nothing can stop it. So before the dog could bark an
objection, we were on our way.
That’s when I did the first manly thing on the trip. Kept to
myself the fact that I had no idea where I was going. And covered up the
confusion with a cloak of definitive confidence. What I had going for me was
that the structure came on my right while travelling out of Hyderabad and on my
left when I was coming back to it. But little did I know that I’d be a victim
to the battle between two Japanese giants Toyota and Suzuki.
This invisible tussle became obvious to me only when I
reached the ORR. Now please note that I had done all the right things; topped
up gas in the car, cleaned the windshield to clarity. The wife had basketed the
lunch, stocked up on biscuits, water and such essential knick-knack-snacks.
So when I collected the toll gate receipt and sped onto the
ORR with hawk eyes on the speedometer willing it into submission and forcing it
to stay under the 100 mark I realized that there was a huge difference between
looking around when I was being driven and looking around when I was in the
driver’s seat. After all, ‘Keep your Eyes on the Road’ is not an instruction
that’s conducive to too much exploration.
The second problem was that as against the height of the passenger
seat in the Toyota Innova that I usually rode, the Suzuki SX4 seat that I
occupied as driver was considerably lower. And the lovely green, flowery bushy
dividers that beautified the ORR were suddenly obstacles I had to struggle to
look beyond.
And guess what? I reached the exit toll gate at Shamshabad
without getting a glimpse of the mysterious structure that I was looking for.
By this time I had however clearly defined the limits of my search to within
that 35 kilometer stretch between the two toll gates.
So at the end of the road, I just turned around and drove
back on to the ORR, but this time with the car headed home…so the structure
would appear to my left without any obstruction to my view.
Needless to say, we spotted the structure within minutes and
I pulled over, hazard lights flashing. And went onto Google Maps to try and see
if the structure had any identity. And viola, the map told us that the
structure we were looking for was Fort Grand.
Now listen to this. Fort Grand was a name I was familiar
with. It was a celebration venue that I had been to a number of times. It was
nice. But it was a fake. In the sense, while the look and feel of this huge
place was antique and grand, it was all nouveau falsetto…new and fake. A
classic replica case of people trying to hire grandeur for a day or for a few
hours. Nothing authentic about it as purists would say.
Was the structure I had been thinking of another part of
this fake destination? I was disappointed for sure. But something told me I
should check things out. I mean, having come this far it would be wrong if I
abandoned the search and turned back home…just because I gave more marks to
originality.
So we found an exit and then began the offroad part of the
afternoon. The skies had remained sufficiently grey to let us foster the
illusion that it was a pleasant day in Europe. And after just a few kilometers
of rural rusticity we found signboards saying Fort Grand and bumped across the
paved but bumpy road (humped across several unnecessary speedbreakers actually)
and landed up at the gates to Fort Grand.
The Security man at the gate told us that the structure on
the hillock that we could now see clearly was NOT a part of the property. I don’t
think he still understands why three happy faces looked at him when he
announced the non ownership of our destination. Just as I don’t think he
understands what he did when he went on to say that there was no way to the
top.
After an aborted attempt to circumvent the Fort Road and
find another track we decided to break for lunch and then stumbled onto a
temple that had a wide open frontage where three things were happening. One,
young couples looking for privacy were finding spots under a tree or on their
bikes that were suitable. Two, youngsters in racy cars were intent on speeding
through the dusty embankments of the temple, raising a lot of dust. Third, and
this was neither the last nor the least, it was a playground for apprentice
monks who obviously were giving their Godly duties a break and indulging in a
sin called Kabaddi.
We found a spot. The couples vanished. And the back of my
car was quickly converted into a table. Delicacy time, and the chapattis, dal
and aaloo methi came out. With those efficient spoon plate combos, tissues and
cold drinking water.
After lunch where we had a couple of squirrels for company
we asked those playful monks about how to reach the top of the hill behind the
temple where the structure could be seen. They told us that there was no route
from ‘here’ but we could try ‘there’.
So I headed back to the main road, backtracked a little and
then found a parallel lane that should logically lead to the abandoned
structure. Because yes, we had by this time discovered that it was a
dilapidated structure that was obviously abandoned.
As we came to a couple of forks the eternal struggle began.
She said left and I said right. She was right! And I was left…embarrassed. A
few more u-turns later we were at a spot where we could see the structure quite
clearly and also see that it was someone’s private property that was being
encroached upon by curious youngsters who just walked up, walked around,
smoked, selfied, sullied the surroundings and left.
We headed back then on the ORR. Did our good Samaritan thing
for the day. Helped a family from Maharashtra with specific directions to
Harsha Toyota, Kondapur. And then found that 13 Dhaba was yet to open. Later I
found that the chaat walla was not going to be operating.
We hid our disappointment well in our next pit stop. The Phoenix
Arena where the Save the Rocks Society was displaying some of the wife’s art
and celebrating 20 odd years of existence. Phoenix is great, but that’s a whole
new story. And one that will be told some other time.
Until then, ciao!!!
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