Surat Nu Jaman,Tapi Nu Maran

They say that the crows come to fetch your soul when it departs from its mortal being.

There were five of them, silently perched in a dignified demeanor outside her windowsill.

Her face beamed an inner glow as she slept peacefully in the room within, revealing no sign of agony suffered since past three months; encased within a network of fleecy wrinkles, hair out of harm’s way in a bob cut; dressed in her signature Khadi skirt and short sleeved shirt-her preferred attire since days of picketing straw dolls at Bhagal crossroads; when she supported Gandhiji’s Quit India movement as a child.

The doctor who came to issue her certificate of death broke down.” Who will rebuke me for my unpunctuality now?” He sobbed. Since the time she had needed physicians, she had been wary of their degrees.” I could bet my last Icy balm that most of Surat’s labourers in Varacha and Pandesara are given shots by quacks with fancy degrees.” she would state, as she scrutinized credentials of every doc who examined her. The balm was her precious jar of relief for bow legs that had seen better days when she bicycled to Nari Saurakshan Gruh, originally located at Piplod. She would pedal from within the walled city, over Ghodod road which was then a dusty track for racing horses; spend the day counseling rescued female sex workers, women who knew no better than being suicidal. Later, she had trekked the Dangs, educating independence to adivasi students. By the time rheumatism set in, she sheltered and kept a sharp maternal eye over local college girls.

As the sun changed its last set of windows for the day, the house began to fill with mourners. Wobbly kneed sisters lamented their irreplaceable loss, braver family members held on to their tears as best they could because she had chuckled upon instructing them,” I don’t want any crying; remind everybody that it is considered shameful accordingly to Hindu Bali. Don’t trouble the NRIs, for I have no intention to wait on an ice slab while they manage a special leave from their tedious routine.”

Somewhere within the cross legged crowd of veiled women, a ringtone blared out a stale item number .Unnerved, the elders began to discuss dates for ‘besnu’,’barmu’,’termu’. Before their mission for setting menus could commence, they were politely informed by a grand child about her last wishes -
” Don’t host any post death ceremonies whatsoever. Don’t run an obituary in the papers; there will be people eating bhelpuri over my photograph the next day. Help the needy, not the greedy. Feeding our God men will not nourish my soul, I would rather you all remember me every time you bite into a hot ‘mirchi bhaji’ or relish a ‘ghari’.”
Talk about Gharis sent her gleefully reminiscing; she would relive delicious tales about delicacies that originated in Surat, the art of rolling paper thin patulis, how the English first discovered custard apples here and named them so, how the original ‘sancha’ ice cream was pure cream laden with luscious fresh fruit, how khaja got combined with mango pulp, citing reasons why Surti cuisine is glorified.

The monotonous chanting of God’s name died down at Ashwinikumar cremation ground. Now modernized with the passage of time; it offers ashes of the deceased within a few hours of the pyre being lit. A little shop across the road, offers voluntary service of sending the same to Varanasi; via which, relatives recieve a post card of confirmation from a trust, stating that the ashes of their loved ones have been immersed in the Ganges at Kashi.

She preferred the Tapti. “The old proverb stating ‘Surat nu jaman ane Kashi nu maran’ is meant for visitors, not us Surtis. Flowing by the Shivji temple at the Paanch Pandav Ovaro, near Ashwinikumar, is a segment of the Tapi known as Gupt Ganga, even the Ganges comes to here to wash her sins. It’s futile for Surtis to go to Kashi when the Tapi is pure enough for the Ganges herself.” she had informed.

She will be missed terribly, but then again, her Surti spirit shall live on forever.

SAPUTARA: GUJARAT’S WET AND WILD GETAWAY.....
Nestled within the mist kissed mountains of Sahyadri, is the state’s lone hill station, Saputara. Perched at an altitude 875 metres above sea level, this plateau within the Western Ghats is well worth a visit in all its monsoon glory.
The ghats that lead to what is known as ‘ poor man’s Switzerland’, offers as good a view as that from a TGV.Dang’s dense, deciduous forests form a natural canopy as the road zig zags over the gently flowing Ambika River. Folk lore goes that Lord Rama spent 11 years in exile in these very forests. Monsoon’s magic helps create scores of tiny waterfalls in the rocky, black soil terrain that mingle into the moss covered marshes.
Devoid of any colonial structures or commercial mall road, Saputara is small enough to be covered in a day, yet, offers all the essentials of a hill station. One could take a paddle boat ride in the lake by the central park and later walk the expanse of the Governors’ hill to embark on a ropeway trip, a kilometre long cable car ride that provides a picture postcard perfect view of this hill resort.
At walking distance is Gandhi Shikhar, the Sunset point, flocked by visitors to see the surrounding tribal villages bask in a warm golden glow as a blanket of stars slowly covers the sky. The rose garden, step garden are well maintained and the museum that houses traditional tribal artefacts also offers a workshop on the same. The Sunrise or valley view point serves the purpose spectacularly with an added view of the adjacent Malegaon. The forest log cabin here is a wooded wonder.
While berries, nagli roti, fresh honey and bamboo pickle are local must haves, tourists also cross over the 4 km.border into the state of Maharashtra for a slice of Konkani cuisine that can be washed down with an alcoholic drink. Gamanlal Kapadia, who makes it a point to visit Saputara every year points out that,’ No other hill station in India offers this kind of simple, natural beauty.’ He smiles as he adds, ’It helps that Maharashtra is a stone’s throw, for travellers who complaint about the dry state.’
The trekking trails of Saputara offer mild to rough challanges; one can further enrich the experience of walking the wild side by seeking permission to visit the Vansda National Park, previously the property of Vansda’s Maharaja. An enthralling forest experience; tall teak trees, mango groves and gigantic creepers are decorated with several species of orchids and wild mushrooms. Dense due to the 2200 -2500mm rainfall it receives, this region of Dang is home to endangered species of Leopards, Pythons, four horned Antelopes, Pangolin, Rusty-spotted cat, Civet, Barking deer, Giant squirrel, Hyenas, 115 winged species like Great Black woodpecker, Malabar Trogan, Grey Hornbill, Emerald Dove, Paradise flycatcher, Sunbirds make it a bird watchers delight and Leaf insects, snails, centipedes, millipedes trudge along the trails.
Also located in the Dangs is the Purna Sanctuary, where one horned Rhinoceros, wild bulls, sloth bears and elephants resided;during the past,Mughal period. The thick bamboo forests here form an organic network of beautiful green tunnels with species such as Chinese, Golden and Beer bottle;The Chopada Badaro,Safed sissar and Sissio are amongst the other tree species preserved here. Laced with the Purna and Gira rivers it is inhibited by a number of tribes like the Bhils, Gamits, Warlis, and Dangis. Their acrobatic folk dances on the beats of traditional instruments like the pavry and drums are very popular.
Further on, the clearing at Gira falls, provides an ideal picnic spot. Gushing down from a height of 75 feet, the waterfall creates silvery cobwebs of fog from which a rainbow often shines through.
Though the forest department has constructed a road right upto the waterfall, environmentalists feel that the beauty of nature should not be tampered with. Snehal Patel, President of Nature Club, Surat says,’ So far, the Dang belt has been clean, green and pollution free but it is fast deteriorating. We must see to it that concerned authorities act fast and ban plastic and disposable goods, make this area vehicle free so tourist may enjoy walking, keep it free from noise pollution of loudspeakers so that one may enjoy the natural bird calls. Make gas cylinders available to local hotels so that they do not deplete wood by using it for cooking and heating water.’
At a distance of 420 kms from Ahmedabad, Saputara, 'the abode of snakes' offers a serene, wet and wild experience to lovers of Nature.