Snaps From Marballi

Here are a few images I captured while on my trip to Marballi.

Call Of The Wild

The thought of going on a holiday-cum-meet-the-family trip thrilled me to no end. Why not? Why would I let let go of an opportunity to meet my wife's cousins and also the chance to trek through the thick jungles of Marballi (Karnataka).

I was apprehensive at first of adjusting myself in the countryside. Nevertheless, I headed for what I hoped would be a fun-filled three-day trip. I landed in Hubli and stayed at my in-laws place and took a 20-km trip to Dharwar to meet my uncle and my grand dad the same evening.

The Hubli-Dharwar highway was breathtakingly beautiful. Lush green fields dotted either sides of the highway. However, the entire journey was uncomfortable since some of stretches of the highway were dotted with craters that matched with the ones on the moon's surface.

After the first 10 minutes, I experienced a deep discomfort at the wrong end of myself. However, not wanting to invite the wrath of my better half with my observation on Hubli's sorry state of roads, I chose to ignore the inconvenience and proceeded to watch nature unfolding in front of us.

The fresh breath of air coupled with the fragrance of wet soil not only rejuvenated my spirits but also lifted the sombre mood that lay heavy on my mind like a thick blanket of fog. I took a few snaps of the highway and of folks working in the fields. I met my grand dad and my uncle and came back around 9:30 p.m. tired but in anticipation of a memorable visit to Marballi, where my wife's elderly grand parents lived amidst pastoral existence.

Marballi, green, greener

We boarded a KSRTC bus in Hubli at 7.30 a.m. The first stop was to be at Honnavar, a town that was nearly 15 kms from Marballi. Our journey towards Honnavar began on a happy note with a lot of banter and bunch of silly jokes exchanged between my wife, in-laws and myself.

But, it was soon apparent that the journey would not be that smooth after all, for we found that our creaky old bus had windows that was impossible to shut and a motor-mouth conductor who refused to shut up. The roads too were no better than the ones in Hubli.

The most singular aspect of the teeth-rattling-bone-shattering experience in the bus, between Honnavar-Marballi-Honnavar, was the all-pervading red Laterite dust that flew through the window. The red dust was everywhere - on the bus, on the buffaloes that roamed freely on the highway, on menfolk working in the nearby fields and in our eyes and mouths. Neither could we sneeze nor could we cough for the fear of being asphyxiated.

Agnashini, Sharawati

As our bus trundled towards Honnavar, we passed by a vast expanse of thick forests that had Kaju, Mangoes and Aracnut trees in abundance. The domiciles of the local farmers too seemed unique to this region. Most huts were built of blocks of Laterite stone walls that was held together with layers of red mud. The thatches were made of straw and arranged in a rather peculiar manner, unlike the ones I have witnessed anywhere down South.

But what really took my breath away was the sight of the sparkling pristine waters of rivers Agnashini and Sharawati criss-crossing the fertile lands of Honnavar. The fields looked bountiful with cotton, paddy, rice and millet.

That clever little thing

We finally reached the untidy Honnavar bus stand that badly required attention. The thick red dust appeared to have played havoc with our appearance, for at the end of the three-hour journey, the four of us looked like "red" Indians.

We decided to take a maxi cab to Marballi which was about 17 kms from the destination. The maxi cab was empty when we boarded it near the bus stand. But as the journey progressed, the cab stopped every five minutes and picked up customers.

I had an eerie feeling that we would soon be packed like sardines. I was dead right and soon the maxi cab that should ferry 10 people had 20+ people on board. I sat near the window, hoping to catch a breath of air and to have a glimpse of mundane life that went around in the town.

However, a few stops later, some locals decided to deny me of the simple pleasures in life. Two women entered the maxi cab with a child. The grandmother had a huge bag which seemed as heavy as her. This she promptly dropped on my foot with a sheepish grin with the excuse that there was no space in the overcrowded cab. Her daughter proceeded to instruct her eight-year-old child to sit on my lap.

The clever little thing decided to take matters in her own hands and proceeded to make herself comfortable, first, by occupying the whole of my lap and, next, by resting her head on my shoulder and promptly falling asleep. My left foot was stuck under the bag and my right leg under the girl who by now had concluded that I was as comfortable as a couch in the living room.

I hung on to the seat with my right hand, in mortal fear of bouncing off as the van chugged along the pot-holed road towards Marballi, whilst I watched with great concern as more betel nut-chewing gentlemen continued to board the overloaded maxi cab.

I finally reached Marballi after nearly 25 minutes. The next three days seems hazy as minutes ticked into hours and then turned into days. The sights of lush green forest, a visit to the local Hanuman Temple, the 50-minute trek through thick vegetation to reach the pristine waters of a nearby brook appears like a dream. Yes, that was what it was. For a city-bred chap and a keen nature enthusiast like me, the visit left an indelible mark on me.

I can clearly recall the chatter of monkeys, the the sound of crickets, the mating calls of toads and peacocks amidst the rustic ambiance of Marballi. I also remember how we got drenched in the rain as we hurried back home after a 50-minute trek on the second evening of our visit.

Not to forget were the folklore and stories of days of yore, narrated with great aplomb by her grandfather that kept me spellbound for hours. How can I forget the nights, when the whoosh of bats and stories of spirits walking in the forests sent a chill down my spine.

Tough lessons from the village

But then, the trip was also an eye opener for me. Just sample this:

1. The nearest market for purchase of essentials is a 14-km travel by maxi cab.
2. During the monsoon, power cuts are a normal affair. Sometimes there is no power for 20 days in a month.
3. The nearest English-medium school is in Honnavar, which is nearly 15 kms away.
4. A water tank for washing plates and separate washrooms for girls and boys in the local school is considered a luxury.
5. The walk to the local school is a 25-minute trek through thick forests that is sometimes infested with snakes during the wet seasons.
6. During monsoon, the water gushes over the banks of the adjoining river. This means its another 40-minute circuitous route through the main road to reach school.
7. There are 12 computers in the school. All the computers are second-hand MS-DOS machines. This is 'latest' machine available for them.
8. The nearest local/STD booth is around 2-3 kms from our place.

The trip was unforgettable for two reasons: one, for the fact that I had a great time amidst the Wild and two, for the lesson I learned - never to take the comfort and luxury you enjoy for granted.