the seige of jamalabad

I’ve had a deep yearning to travel for a long time now and after reading “In Xanandu” by Dalrymple I couldn’t help feeling a sense of injustice and irony. Before us we have this incredibly fascinating labyrinth of history beckoning us to explore but we turn a blind eye to it.

Sheki, who is partly responsible for turning me into somewhat of a history aficionado, went on an elaborate fort hunt on Wiki and produced a list of places around Mangalore which would accommodate the criterion of being close to college and light on the wallet. We agreed on jamalabad fort which was described rather beautifully in a blog. Further research told us (or rather Sheki) that the fort was built by Tipu in the late 18^th century which he (Tipu, of course) promptly named after his mother. The next task on hand was to assemble (in Sheki’s words) “an army for the siege of jamalabad”.  These being not an altogether difficult task as most of the fella’s were pretty jobless after the mid semester exams, the final line-up looked as follows: Sheki, Heda, Nishkarsh, A.Abi, Vyas, Rushil and I.

Date:27th September,2008

5:30 am: I wake up to the incredibly irritating tune of sheki’s alarm. So this is what 5 30 am feels like!

5:45 am: The two of us knock on ponky’s door.

                   Sheki: Are you coming?

                    Ponky: Yea. Wake me up in fifteen minutes.

6:00 am: Sheki (Again, Ponky’s door):   You coming?

                   Ponky: Can’t come. Not feeling well.

7:00 am: We wait at Reddy’s and forgo an express because it seems pretty crowded.

7:15 am: It’s getting late so we board a “local” bus much more crowded than the express. Damn you Murphy. It stops every 100 meters. Mangalore seems at least an hour away.

8:00 am: We have breakfast at the “Taj Mahal”, Hampankatta and parcel fourteen puri’s to be eaten after we’ve “conquered” jamalabad.

8:45 am: With moderately filled stomachs we walk to the SB bus stop. Our destination-Belthangadi. We board a bus which bears a striking resemblance to the one which brought us to Mangalore. We look for an express but there is none. We stick to the “local”. 

9:00 am: When the bus is sufficiently full, it labours its way towards Darmasthala. The road is surprisingly smooth and on either side lush, green fields abound with the occasional hillock. Sheki’s camera is put to use at times of monotony. On enquiry, we’re told that Belthangadi is an hour and a half away.  

11:00 am: We arrive at Belthangadi and are told to catch another bus to the foot of the hill.

11:15 am: Arrive at “base camp”. The village is laid back and we look at the hill which we are to scale. The sun is blazing away on all cylinders and it seems a pretty steep task. We gather a few bottles of water and head off towards the foot of the hill which is 2 km away. On the way we see a church, a mosque and a temple in close proximity. There’s a stream with crystal clear water inviting us to jump in. Sadly, I hadn’t neither a pair of bathing trunks or a towel with me.

12:00 noon: The guy in charge, presumably from the ASI, asked us to cough up an amount which I’m not able to recollect at present. I think he even took one of our college ID’s.  These formalities being completed, we began the ascent. Its funny how things never pan out the way you imagined they would. When we were told that the climb would take us an hour and a half or probably two, I laughed silently thinking it was child’s play. The first two hundred meters or so dispelled any lingering notions that the trek was going to be easy. The path was manmade and carved out the rock. The steps, being quiet high, took a toll on our ill exercised bodies and we were huffing in about 15 minutes. The heat was blistering and we halted every 5 minutes or so taking gulps of water while we rested on the smouldering hot rocks. Sheki and I proved to be the weaklings, if I might use the word. The sedentary lifestyles which we shamefully lead were reflected throughout the trek. Anyway I must add that the view at various points was very pretty indeed. Below us there was a vast expanse of fields, coconut groves and plantations and the Kudremukh hills kissed the clouds in the background.

The first sign of the fort was a wall which fooled us into thinking that we had reached the top. This was especially cruel on Sheki who was exhausted (to the point of crying out “I’m dying”) and was led to believe that the journey was complete.  There was a broken cannon which I doubt was made of iron (can iron fracture?). We hadn’t reached the top as yet.   There was a flight of steps which was the steepest yet and wet in portions. This, I must admit, was the hardest part of the trek. The steps were carved out of the rocks and the hardships faced by the people who constructed the fort became apparent when we glanced down. We were at a height of about 1500 feet and relying on the rather precarious grip the slippery rocks could afford.

2:00 pm: We’re at the top. Or are we? There is no sign of a high walled, magnificent structure I had conjured in my mind. Nothing but a small observatory of sorts which has been thoroughly defaced by tasteless graffiti. It’s a shame we treat our monuments like they aren’t worth a penny. The view, as I have already commented was breath taking. From the scale of the fort, or whatever is left of it, it becomes apparent that it was a small structure but commanded a bird’s eye view of the surroundings. But why did Tipu select such a remote location as a military outpost?

After doing a bit of exploring, we lunched in a shady nook and snapped a few customary photographs. As we had run out of water, we filled the bottles from a spring at the top. The water was cool and sweet, quiet refreshing in the sapping heat. At around three we headed back. The descent was much easier and we didn’t halt as much we had on the way up, as a result of which we were back downstairs in an hour and a quarter.

4:00 pm: My legs were trembling and my muscles ached. All I wanted was a hot shower and a comfortable bed. The stream which I had mentioned earlier beckoned us with its musical sound as it caressed the rocks. We took off our footwear and dipped our bare feet in the swirling waters. The result was as soothing a massage as I have ever gotten. When we finally decided to leave I was completely rejuvenated as I’m sure were the others.

The return to Mangalore and finally to college was a haze. I was pretty exhausted and did not even have the appetite to gorge at Nishkarsh’s expense.