Random Ramblings

Ajay Ramakrishnan

Travels need not always be long distance. Even a morning walk is as much a travel as a vacation in Kerala

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Mumbai to Pune
Disclaimer: This article was written in 2001. My apologies if it sounds outdated. Also please forgive the poor quality of the photos, which date from 2005 and 2008

By the time I wrestle my bags on to the overhead luggage rack and settle down into my seat, the train is already speeding through the northeastern suburbs of Mumbai. Soon it is passing through Thane station, outside the city limits. Known for its picturesque lakes and tanks, Thane has its own special place in the annals of railway history. The first railway line in India was laid between Mumbai and Thane (then called Tanna), way back in 1854.

After Thane station comes the panoramic vista of the Thane creek, followed by a long tunnel through the mountain that separates Kalwa and Mumbra. Although there are tunnels later in the Bhor Ghat section as well, I think this one is longer than any of them. Emerging from the tunnel, the train crosses the Mumbra creek and speeds through Diva Junction, where Konkan Railway trains turn off on their way south. Next we pass through the South Indian strongholds of Dombivli and Thakurli on our way to Kalyan Junction. This is an important station on the Central Railway from where Mumbai local trains going to Karjat and Kasara go their separate ways.
Mumbra creek
A few minutes past Kalyan is Ambernath - this temple town is named after one of the most important Shiva temples in Western India, which is situated nearby. About a hour and a half out of Mumbai, we come to Karjat station. Situated on the edge of the Bhor Ghat section of the route, Karjat is also the terminus for local trains coming from Mumbai. It is also famous for its vada pav, that staple dish of urban Maharashtra that can be breakfast, lunch, snack or dinner depending on one's financial status. Purists assure me that the vada pav of Karjat is the real thing and nothing you get on the streets of Mumbai and Pune can match it.

The mountains of the Bhor Ghat are dotted with trees and shrubs all year round. But the rains really bring about a metamorphosis in their appearance. The dusty, dull greenery of the vegetation is transformed into a profusion of jade, emerald and other shades of green. The slopes are covered with wildflowers in various shades of yellow, pink and white. These look all the more beautiful when you look down from the British-built viaducts that still stand tall across the gullies and valleys.
British-era Viaduct
Adding to the natural beauty of the mountains is the strikingly magical effect of rainwater. What in the summer months were merely bare rock faces are now lined with cascading waterfalls. What just a few months ago were just rock-strewn valley floors become streambeds where babbling brooks hurriedly make their way down to the plains below.

The misty veils of cloud that hug the mountainsides occasionally descend into the valley as fog, giving an eerie touch to the landscape. Even as I write, the train is passing by a valley that has been transformed by the fog into a grayish-white river with green banks. In the mornings, this fog is even more beautiful and pure milky-white in colour. And if the mist is thin enough, the mountains across the valley with their necklaces of waterfalls and anklets of silver streams look even more beautiful.
Waterfall in Bhor Ghat section
Although there a few stops in the Ghat section such as Thakurwadi and Monkey Hill (named after the innumerable simians that inhabit its densely wooded slopes), the first real station after Karjat is Khandala. This pleasant, relatively unpolluted hill station has recently been immortalized by Bollywood superstar Aamir Khan in the song Aati Kya Khandala?.

Among railfans, Khandala is famous for the British-built reversing station that was almost totally destroyed to make way for the Mumbai Pune expressway and Old Highway realignment. The reversing station enabled trains to climb up the steep slope of the Ghat, without the need for the tunnels and banking engines that do the job nowadays.
Remains of Reversing Station
Five kilometers from Khandala is Lonavla, which is slightly lower in altitude as well as easier on the tourists' wallets. Lonavla is famous all over India for its chikki - a sweet made of jaggery and peanuts (or cashew nuts or grated coconut).

From Lonavla, it's another hour or so to Pune. On the way are stations like Malavli, where you would alight to visit the famous Karla caves, and Dehu Road, where you get off for the temple town of Dehu. My train, however, speeds through these stations as well as through Vadgaon - scene of an important battle in Maratha history - and Kamshet, where the beautiful Indrayani river runs just past the platform. It doesn't stop either at Talegaon or the industrial centers of Chinchwad and Pimpri (the Pimpri-Chinchwad Municipal Corporation used to be the richest in Asia) or the army town of Khadki (the Khadakvasla lake and the National Defence Academy are located here).

Finally the train halts at Shivaji Nagar station. This is close to the heart of Pune City and is developing into a bustling center of business and commerce. Most people heading into Pune proper would alight here. I though, have to wait for another 5 minutes as the train crosses the Sangam Bridge on the river Mutha. It is named after the confluence of the Mutha and Mula rivers, just beyond the bridge.

Soon the train is pulling into its final destination - Pune junction. As I resign myself to another tiring week of hard labour at the office, I derive some satisfaction from the thought that someone will enjoy reading this little account of my journey. I hope you did. 
 
A Journey on the Konkan Railway
Disclaimer: This article was written in 1999. So it may sound a bit outdated
Note: This article was published in Capgemini's India Happening newsletter (Oct 2004 issue)

The first thing that struck me about the Konkan Railway (KR) route was the greenery. Right from the point where the train turned off the main Central Railway tracks near Diva, the whole journey was a montage of such incredibly beautiful vistas of green that they simply took my breath away. Although it was well after the end of the monsoons, the whole landscape was permeated with the sort of freshness that one would associate with a rain-drenched July morning. The light green of the paddy fields, the dark green of the mango and coconut orchards, the emerald waters of the Konkan rivers and the muddy green of the lily ponds all seemed to merge into a living, breathing sea of green.
Shastri river
The Konkan villages are very interesting - a study in contrasts, really. In Maharashtra, it's hard for the train traveller to discern any sign of life. The little villages of the Konkan are few and far between. Most of them look identical - a few small, unpainted brick or mud houses with tiled roofs, a few large tufts of hay, a couple of bullock carts standing around, a couple of wells, maybe a little temple. Indeed, so backward are they that once, I almost jumped up in surprise when I saw a dish antenna in one of these tiny hamlets. In Goa, the villages are a little different, though as distant from each other as those in Maharashtra. The houses look sturdier, most of them are whitewashed and quite a few of them are cement-concrete bungalows with terraced rather than tiled roofs. Then of course, there are the churches. Most of them are just pretty little white chapels standing on secluded hilltops or amidst a stand of coconut trees but some are ugly, yellow monstrosities situated right in the middle of the villages. It's easy to know when you've exited Karnataka and entered Kerala - villages begin to show up at every bend. Not only are they more frequent, Kerala villages are obviously bigger and richer than their Konkan or Goa counterparts. The biggest evidence of this wealth is the opulent, even vulgar architecture of the bungalows and mosques of the region. About the mosques - well, right from northern Kasargod to central Mallapuram, they are the dominant feature of the Kerala landscape. The gigantic domes and tall minars evoke an image of Arabia rather than India.
Kali river
And then there are the tunnels. Small and large, there are so many of them along the entire route that after some time, one stops noticing them. Since most part of the KR passes through the Western Ghats or their foothills, the track is every now and again boxed in by high, rocky cliffs. Perhaps that explains the landslides that plague the Railway every year during the rainy season. Another thing that really amazed me was that most of these tunnels seem to have perennial springs situated either within them or just near them, on the cliffs outside. Water trickles down the rock faces and drips from the roots of small plants hanging on to the mountainside. Every few furlongs, one can see a stream of sparklingly clear water rushing down into the valley below.
Mogral River
The viaducts, I must say, were a big disappointment. From a train window up above, they don't look half as exciting as they did in the KR publicity releases. Of course, the technical triumph of fording such deep and wide valleys is a commendable victory for the Konkan Railway engineers, but from a train most of the viaducts look and feel like any other bridge.
Chaliyar River
Of course, there are many others things that I could tell about my journey - such as the pinkish soil of Sindhudurg, the impressive Zuari river in Goa, the beautiful Nethravathi river near Mangalore (from which the Kurla - Ernakulam train gets its name) and the view of the sea from Kasargod station in Kerala. But then, these things are much better experienced first-hand. So if you ever get a chance to go down south by the KR, grab it with both hands. In a few years, development (and the concrete jungles that come with it), pollution and polythene waste would have spoilt the verdant Konkan landscape forever. Enjoy it while it lasts.