Common man and the unplanned trek

Common man was having the time of his life.

Actually that was while he was narrating this blog post. The actual run up to what constitutes the post that follows was quite different. For that, the flashback shall ensue...

Flashback: "And if we can't find a place to crash for the night, at least it will make for a good blog post" remarked Common man nonchalantly as he and Cuplord made their way out of Karjat railway station one rainy Saturday morning. Now Common man wasn't accustomed to making his way out of Karjat railway station, or for that matter, any railway station, on rainy Saturday mornings, but this was no ordinary Saturday morning.

For one, Common man and Cuplord had taken the 5:37 AM local train from Dadar, reaching Karjat in a mere 7 days, or what felt like 7 days. Yes five: thirty seven in words, and 5:37 in figures, that was no typo.

"Why 5:37 local train on a Saturday morning ?" is a question that may strike the discerning reader. When the author will add (as he is just about to add) that it was for a trek to a place neither of them had heard about, during a long weekend, to a place where they hadn't yet found a place to stay in; and the question "Why 5:37 local train on a Saturday morning ?" may strike yet again.

Further, the very same discerning reader may wonder why Cuplord, who was known for his extreme cheapness in never responding to calls and always ditching meet-ups and friends' engagements, was doing initiating a trek, and calling Common man for it.

Common man's extreme popularity was only a small part of the answer. The larger part (or bigger picture, as we MBAs like to say) was that Cuplord was a masochist, and he was punishing himself for all his cheap deeds. And being work-less and wife-less that weekend meant he was free to pursue other extra-curricular activities.

So, Common man and Cuplord made their way into some indeterminate Maharashtrian town/village which was to be the base of their almost vertical ascent to Bhimashankar. Common man was something of a tyro at this trekking business, but Cuplord's reassurances that he had been trekking in the Himalayas right from the days of Mohammed of Ghazni's marauding invasions meant that Common man was worrying less about the trek and more about the aperture setting on his camera as he took photos.

The reality couldn't be further. Two years of Mirinda, an MBA and no exercise meant that Cuplord wasn't even fit to cross Linking Road at peak time, leave alone trek 3000 feet of a steep mountain in monsoon. Common man didn't seem to be afflicted as badly as Cuplord with such fitness problems. Every 20 steps or so, he'd realize that Cuplord had fallen back, and he'd have to wait for the aforementioned person to catch up.

That only gave Common man all the more time to admire the natural beauty and use his photographic prowess to good use. Exhibit A shall serve as a sample of how exactly Common man utilized all those waiting periods.

From then on, to cut a long story short, the two intrepid trekkers enlisted the services of a guide from about halfway up the trek. How they managed to find a guide halfway up an extremely challenging trek is quite a story in itself, but since it involves making fun of Common man rather than Cuplord (as the rest of this story does), it shall conveniently be bowdlerized.

The guide had several peculiarities, one of which was to continuously make conversation with Common man in Marathi, in spite of his repeated denials to any knowledge of the language. In the guide's defense, he merely might have been trying to convey "Watch out, that landslide is headed your way" or "Your fly is open" or something to that effect, but like Einstein's last words, we'll never know.

He did occasionally pause from his Marathi monologue, but that was only to turn around and cast dirty looks in the direction of the Cuplord, who was now dropping so far behind Common man and the Marathi speaking guide that Eliyahu Goldratt was said to be inspired to complete the Goal trilogy, and further enhance the ever increasing study in English literature of bottlenecks.

A mere four and a half hours or so later, the triumvirate descended upon (actually shouldn't it be ascended upon) the town of Bhimashankar in extremely foggy weather. By now, the visibility was so poor, and Cuplord was so exhausted, that the guide probably just had enough of the two trekkers and just left them off at some random point in the forest, saying "this is Bhimashankar", much like the sign which says "This is Anfield" at the stadium of the football club which finishes fourth every season, and yet believes they are favorites to win the title when the next season kicks off.

Anyways, Cuplord and Common man were finally at Bhimashankar. Or what they were told was Bhimashankar. Common man had been awake for over 12 hours that day, and he hadn't even had lunch. Or found a place to crash for the night.

That was just the start of his troubles though.

The rest of the story will be concluded in part 2.

PS: Gotcha suckers! Betcha didn't know when you started reading this that there would be a part 2. To be perfectly honest, even I had no idea.