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Up on Alagalla |
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It was July, the month of heavy showers in As the name sounded like ‘Bathalegala’, the Bible Rock,
which I see every time I travel by the picturesque Kadugannawa pass on my way
to and from “Does Alagalla look like Bathalegala?” I wanted to
know. “I don’t know. I don’t remember noticing it
even from a distance,” Kirthi replied. “Well, if it were then I am sure that I can not climb it
with my touchy bronchial tubes and would-be menopausal knees. Besides, I
would be a very slow climber anyways. I might slow you all down.” “You’d
better give it a try,” Kirthi suggested. “Don’t bother
about slowing us down. The pleasure of the trip is for everyone in the team.
Isn’t that the way it should be?” Yes, Kirthi was right. One of the central features of our
absurd walking projects that we have undertaken as of late is, ‘the
slowest sets the pace’. So, I agreed to give it a try. But I did not cease grumbling.
‘Why can’t we just walk on gentle sloping village roads as we
have been doing? I could only walk the earth, not climb the mountains. Has
anyone in the group got a problem to prove his manhood?’ Kirthi did not
respond to my grumblings. He might have thought that was probably my way of
getting prepared for something totally new. Next day, by about nine in the morning, we took a bus to Poththapitiya at Peradeniya junction. The bus took a right turn from the road to There was another 2 km or so to get to the foot of Alagalla
from Poththapitiya junction. Even though we had originally planned to walk that
distance, we changed our mind and hired two 3-wheelers, only because I wanted
to have known at least one villager, in case we lost our way on Alagalla. The precaution that I took to not get lost, I was sure, could
have disappointed one of the other two members, half our age, of the group
who had worked himself into somewhat of a passion for getting lost in the
mountain at least for a night, as it happened to some other hikers to
Alagalla. Upon hearing our intention, one of the 3-wheeler drivers
responded with an indifferent surprise. “No one climbs Alagalla during
these months,” he said. Since we were firm, he offered to help us with
a guide. The guide came up to a point where the identifiable path on a
comparatively flat landscape with tea plantations and cows ended. He told us
that there was no way for us to get lost now since there was only one route
up from that point onwards. Kirthi got the phone number of the guide and we
said goodbye to him. Left alone in that unfamiliar not-so-climber-friendly
wilderness, we first picked off the numerous welcoming leeches from our shoes
and socks and started our climb on something that remotely resembled a route
used by civilization. Owing to the ever present possibility of slipping down and hurting
myself on that heavily sloping route, each step was an effort for me. The
ground was such that I could only figure out where to put one foot at a time.
And, that was it for me all the way up. Others were climbing easily, or so it
seemed. As the distance between others and me increased by a
geometrical series, Kirthi slowed down to keep pace with me. He encouraged me
saying that it was okay for me to take my own time to climb because there was
no real hurry to get to the top. I reacted, “Well, I am at my top most
speed.” That made us both laugh. Each inch of progress that I made on Alagalla’s steep
slopes with my most ordinary pair of canvas shoes and 60 kg bodyweight made
me feel good, real good. I was full of humour as it happens during those
bizarre activities that one undertakes. I joked, “Well, at least now I
know that I’ve got a heart that works.” It was in fact thumping
away at its top notch speed. And, what’s more, I could hear it loud and
clear with my own ears. On my way up those unsociable slopes, it was often that I
paused to catch up with my breath. At times, I needed to sit on anything on
the way to got control of my reeling head. Eventually, however, I did get to
the top of Alagalla, climbing something that, in theory, un-climbable by me. With our backs on the safety of the rock-capped We stood there gasping and feeling lost. It seemed that we
were at the end of our mission for the day. The younger ones wanted to walk
about on the top, but we did not know how to do it without dropping off the
mountain, until Kirthi located and led us on something resembling a route. As we walked, we spotted something like cow dung everywhere
about our way; a lot of dung, for that matter. It was only later that we
realized that the route we were following was that of the wild buffaloes, a
group of whom we were fortunate(!) to meet on our way down. Hearing us, it appeared, they moved to a side, camouflaged
themselves among the barks, and stared at us silently through the creepers
with their moist wide eyes set upon marvellously fine featured faces. It seemed a miracle that they did not run into us, though it
might have been just common sense from the buffalo-point of view. The
presence of them on Alagalla explained the muddy ridden water hole that we
saw up on the top as we traversed it from one end to the other. The top of Alagalla is a long, narrow strip of stone-strewn
land matted with thorny creepers and a thin forest cover edged by precipitous
rocky slopes. The story has it that the Kandyan kings got death sentences on
their prisoners executed at the top of Alagalla from where the prisoners were
pushed down. Despite that gruesome history and the nauseating feeling
associated with it, we discussed death by righteous killing at length, when
on top of Alagalla. As we were finding our way through the thickets on the top of
Alagalla, it struck me that there existed a very real possibility for one of
us to simply drop dead. Strange enough, however, that the thought of probable
death in the hands, rather the mouths or hooves, of many a creatures to which
Alagalla was home, did not frighten me. There seemed not much of a difference
between life and death, when being up there. The top of Alagalla had a way of stripping me off the burden
of life that the civilization made me shoulder. The nakedness that Alagalla
imposed on my spirits made my emotions soar. I was engulfed by a strong
feeling while on Alagalla in which I fancied that Kirthi and I were up there
some three decades ago, newly married and looking for a meaning for our life
together. After a couple of hours up there, strolling and seeing and
chatting and listening, having nearly lost our route once, somewhat happily,
as it added to the excitement, we began to climb down, which once again
appeared an impossible task. We needed at least an extra leg, if not two. I had with me a
climbing gear, sent from Both on our way up and way down, we broke our journey on a
somewhat flat rock protruding out of the plunging slopes of Alagalla. That
was the only place in the whole of Alagalla with adequate space for four of
us to sit, away from the ever thirsty, or is it hungry?, leeches and the ever
blowing wind. The boundless view unfolded ahead of us was simply
breathtaking. So much so, we totally ignored the fact that the rock surface
on which we were seated was not really that flat and not really that wide. Even though we felt like wandering gods taking a brief break
on the heavenly clouds, we would have looked like framed pictures on a wall
for an earthling. But, we did not discuss that among ourselves. We took out
the gingerly oil soaked ‘dosas’ and the enchanting banana muffins
that I made for that occasion, and happily ate them enjoying without guilt
every bite of it. When we got back to Poththapitiya junction on our walk away from
Alagalla, the fact we had been on Alagalla already seemed a distant memory,
except for the nearly dislocated knees and the stiffen thighs of mine. When
we got to the Pilimathalawwa junction on the Kandy-Colombo road, the contrast
between the wild and the civilized worlds laboured through our mouths,
“Can’t believe we were up there only a few hours ago.” One strange, though the key, feature of my Alagalla climb was
that I did not notice the imposing 650 odd meter height of Alagalla above its
500 odd meter base terrain with its intimidating slopes on my journey from
Peradeniya to the foot of Alagalla. That was the reason I dared even climbing
it. ‘Ignorance is bliss.’ I have heard it many times, but
experienced it only that day. Climbing Alagalla has changed the way I looked at myself
forever. I realized that I reached the top of Alagalla only because, I did
not, for once in my life time, try to stay in control of my life, and let
life took me where it wanted to. Well, it opened a whole new world for me. A
world full of mountain peaks. It was wonderful to get up there, feeling all the way up that
it was something that you really, really can’t do, and then to sit on
the top of it looking far and wide, below and above, thrilled by those once
distant clouds playing hide and seek with you, and accepting rain as it came,
leeches as they climbed, potential falls and even possible brisk death at a
stink of a snake. ‘Isn’t life wonderful when taking as it
comes?’ That must be the fairies of Alagalla whispering. - August
2009 |
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Uploaded on August 21, 2009 |
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