- STRAWBERRY FIELDS FOREVER
Aninda Mukherjee
Let me take you down
'Cause I am going to strawberry fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about..
The source of the river Krishna is beautiful. The springs and waterfalls from heaven come together to satiate the thirst of Satara…and flow through the heart of Bharat.
On a late evening in December 1819, Colonel Lodwick was climbing a mountain. When he reached a picturesque flat piece of of land, he sent a short message to Sir John Malcolm, Governor of Bombay Presidency.
“ God’s own country, Sir John…”
He then pitched his tent in the village of Medgudud. As he looked at the majestic Sahyadris, his batty handed him a sherry. This place had promise.
Lodwick was not aware that it was here a hundred and fifty years back, Chatrapati Shivaji had killed the Vale of Jawaali, Chandra Rao More, to mark the presence of the Mighty Marathas in the Westen Ghats! Pratapgarh fort was established not too far away off the ridge of Mahad. Afzal Khan of the Bijapur Sultanate would regret his misadventure here.
Nonetheless, Malcolm liked what Lodwick told him. Thus was born the paradise of Mahabaleshwar… springs and strawberry fields, the jewel of Satara.
Today, Mahabaleshwar remains a much loved hill station in Maharashtra… strawberries, lakes, sunset points, traffic snarls, destination marriages et al.
Yesterday I turned right from Wai to head up to a small place somewhere between the blue skies and the dales. Navigating through frustrating traffic on winding roads, I reached a red stone cottage by a bed of colourful zinnia. Somewhere between Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar. Medgudud.
As I sipped an Assam taking in the blood red sunset, I introspected.
The year was drawing to a slow end. We had lived months with a dreaded virus… witness to helpless,soulless, lonely cremations. Yet we were resilient…we watched India win in cricket, celebrated Olympic medals, hoped sensex would sustain 60000 and returned Air India to the Tatas! We were victors in a world fraught with crisis.
I look back at my own 365 days…the year gone by. Much like the year itself, I had battled adversity. I was defeated, I was conquered. Nature took away a little bit of me. Often I thought I could…only to realise I couldn’t. And yet I survived. I think there were times I almost gave up. But didn’t give in.
2021 was nothing like I thought it would be. But it was kind enough to permit me the indulgence to look forward to 2022!
We are all a little like Mahabaleshwar, god’s gift…in the lap of nature, helpless to her vagaries, ravaged by her moods, enslaved by her wishes, witness to her rage and inheritors of her wealth. Yet evolving with time to emerge better and stronger.
But never arrogant enough to think we are the masters of our destiny.
As they say in this part of the world, flow with the river if you want to be one with the sea.
With gratitude to the generosity of warmth, support and kindness I received from many beautiful people over 2021 when times were less than easy. Here’s to the strength and promise of new beginnings.
This blog is dedicated to my heroes of ’21- Nilanjana, who smiled through pain while keeping a home filled with love, and Hiya, who taught me that the child is indeed the father(or mother) of man!
