Had to take a break. The long cherished plan to drive around the Konkan coast finally clicked.
The unpretentious western coast, where nature is at its serene best beckons and such an invitation can’t be ignored.
Leaving the dust and the frenzy of the Mumbai Bangalore Highway near Belgaum, the route veers off westward. The landscape changes, a green cover creeps in. The recent rains have scratched at roads and the scars are showing. A green board announces that we have crossed into Maharashtra.
Konkan beckons
Small villages sit moodily along the road. Modest houses appear now and then. Grandmothers sit outside cradling babies while a few other kids play in the yard .Every few kilometres one can see a road fork off towards what could be small villages tucked away in obscurity.
A religious procession walks by. Men with the white folded caps and women in bright sarees walk as bhajans are being sung. This is the very heart of the Bhakti movement of the brave Maratha land. The exuberant rhythm of classical abhang passes by as we drive past. The chipli the wooden percussion instrument keeps the beat. The Konkan heart is still beating to this modest wooden clip instrument
The vegetation is green and trees have a wet glistening look as they line up the roads and green and yellow fields. Yellow from the paddy fields and green from the sugarcane patches. The cane fields stand tall. A few of the upright ones have stooped at the top as the gentle the wind and rain slapped them about. The smaller paddy fields are unhurt and sway away merrily.
This is the heart of India. These are far away from the mighty Himalayan mountains, but life is no different. Simple folks, merry fields and life in a slower time frame. The urban madness of well dressed men in office cubicles, vehicles that cram the roads and families stuffed into high rise buildings is the ugly face of development , while the sleepy hinterland seems to live on in peace.
Another hour of this visual feast and we are in Amboli, our first stop. The roads are now beautiful. Smooth and hugging the small hillocks , they climb into the sleepy town of Amboli. There are few hotels framed against the blue evening sky. The main street is deserted as holidays are yet to begin and it is a weekday.
The Amboli water falls is supposed to be the show stopper , but dusk is upon us and it will have to be tomorrow that we have a glimpse of it.
We have booked a homestay which looked near and prim in the photos
The actual site is better. The Rainhills Homestay sits pretty on a long winding stretch of recently topped road that leaves the main road behind. The road swings it’s way through sloping meadows and some sparse shrubbery for about two kilometres and the small homestay appears.
It is family run enterprise and is a real deal. Simple yet clean and sparkling rooms. Just a few of them, and a small patch of green and some decorative areca trees.
The host Praful has a welcoming smile. The food is cooked to your choice. We chose a simple dal. The simple and oh-so-maharshtrians sprouted usal and the soft akki rotis made sure the meal was a treat.
The Rainhills Homestay is a stunning example of how a welcoming place makes the real India what it is. Simple, peaceful and one of small pleasures. This is a cute representative of what Konkan is all about.
The sights around this neat homestay are worth a ton. A walk around and every site soothes your eyes. There are no houses around, it is just you. The crickets in the bushes are wild and crackling away. It is a stopover for us as we head further up this dreamy part of Maharashtra.
The start is as good as it gets. The morning is on us. The car is drenched in the pearly dew that descended overnight. The morning sun is spreading cheer and the pristine coast is waiting….
Here we go…catch you later .. while you wait …have a look …
