Travel with a waterfall

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Vendors and porters were waiting for the morning bus from Shimoga. They climbed over it through the rear ladder and the window sills as they were just boarding it. Travellers wait for sacks of vegetables to be unloaded at the local market. Some do a quick shopping while others take a stroll. As the marketplace comes to life, the bus resumes its winding journey through the Ghats.

Jog Falls is not in its spirits. Monsoon is already over and the hydro-electric project upstream has reined in its remaining power. Still, this 292-metre waterfalls, famed as Asia's highest, is simply irresistible. It lures you from the viewing platform to the lakes it had dug amid scaled rocks. But, the steep descend is demanding, even if you forget the climb back.

Srikanth is pretty disappointed by the trickle. He was expecting a Niagara of sorts after all the bus rides past defiant buffaloes and exhausting curves. But the wrong timing had its advantages. We could actually touch the waterfall. A self-appointed guide approaches us offering a jeep ride to the summit on the other side of the gorge, where the falls start. But we decide to travel down with the falls.

A Buddhist monk in red robe hurries down the crude stone steps. Deep below, robes cover a vast rock washed by the falls. Our fellowtraveller's comrades are enthralling in the green pool. A few brave ones venture further and swim across it to take a shower beneath the sprinkle. A month ago, when newspapers heralded the new life of Jog Falls, it would have been mission impossible.

Even from the vantage point the falls appear as four trickling strings. As we venture into the green cover below, the falls become murmurs. Now and then, on strategic curves, glimpses of the cascade appear. Vendors waiting with bottled water and soft drinks ignore us. They know their customers will come from the other side.

We leap downhill, then stumble on a rocky fortress and mossy moats. All steps and trails end here. We have to find our way out of this maze. The reward stands magnificently before us. The gift of the Sharavathi river. Though a skeleton of itself, Jog Falls still has a charm and enough water for an adventure.

Beside the great pool, we hesitate. The submerged rocks are tricky. Then we yield to the temptation. One by one we wade through the flow and try to find a foothold on the fringes. With water at eye-level, I establish continuity with water falling from the great heights through a colourful mosaic of ancient rock. The sun appears at the summit, forming a halo over the rocks.

When it is over our heads, we prepare for the return journey. The way we came through, the way we have to climb, looks impossible. Trapped in a paradise. The previous day, at Chitradurga, we could abandon the climb any time to descend. Today, the choice was already made. The route is marked. We join others. Groups of youths, extended families, frolicking couples...

I started counting the steps until a vendor said there were 600 of them. I gave up and just tottered up. More and more people are coming down. We were among the early birds and calmness was our reward. Up on the viewing platforms, photographers show people their earlier subjects, all with a backdrop of four white cascades on a green canvas.

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