Besides this is getting a bit all too familiar. Deserted platforms, the occasional thunder of passing trains, boisterous groups and a silent night. It's one of the typical nights out on the platform before the day begins and we set out to the mountains. So here I am once again at Neral station on this season's first trek to Fort Peb. The night passes like an incomplete dream, in a zonked state, but by daybreak things are already looking better.

By 6:45 am the entire group has regrouped, including the early arrivals by the first train. It's raining and it's time to move, but not before some light breakfast and a hot cup of 'chai'. We have a long day aheadwet and cold and it's going to be quite some time before we have the pleasure of drinking that hot beverage. So every gulp of the hot chai traveling down the food pipe is appreciated.

The trek begins at 7:30 am and we pass the initial patches of slush, garbage and a road full of ditches. Soon we are out of the Neral township and have set course on a path leading to the mountains. Above us, there is no sky left! The heavy rain clouds have packed themselves above us. The mountains themselves are performing the disappearing act. Matheran, Peb, Nakhind all have hidden themselves within the huge grayness that looms overhead. It feels absurd pointing out towards the clouds and telling the folks that Peb lies hidden within that and that is where we shall reach by mid-day. Nevertheless the fact remains that our group is like a pack of sheep headed by two rams (Yogi and me) who think they know the route. So wherever the rams go, the sheep shall follow!

It's been only two weeks since the southwestern monsoon has reached Maharashtra's Sahyadri, but the picture has changed completely. The entire three-dimensional landscape has been painted in multiple shades of only two colors, green and gray. Moisture has touched and transformed everything. The wet ground, the forest, the trees with its densely packed leaveseverything emanates the smell of rain. Every breath we take is refreshing and loaded with moisture. Makes one wonder if this is the same terrain which was being baked dry by a hot tropical sun just a few days back? In winter, this same landscape would be a bit dry but still will retain its freshness. By the end of summer all the traces of moisture and freshness would vanish. The only smell that would remain is of baked earth and a dry forest. The air would have the quality of a deathly stillness. In spite of this it would have its own weight, like a dead load and it would make its overwhelming presence felt everywhere.

The memory of a dry and hot Sahyadri is not a nice one. It had remained with me for quite some time and it wasn't easy to live with it. I wanted to erase the memory of the Indian summer in the Sahyadri. The scorching sun and the touch of hot rocks! So this year I had completely ignored the mountains in summer and surfaced now in monsoon after aestivating for three months. Today on the way to Peb the decision made a lot of sense.

The path passed a stinking poultry farm, then started climbing up a ridge along pylons carrying high voltage power lines. The power lines emanated a continuous distinct sound, which was unnatural and out of place. There was also the sound of raindrops falling on our black umbrellas. The bombarding raindrops caused small resonations in our umbrellas and we mistook the source as the power lines. We fantasized that our umbrella tips could act as mobile electricity attractors and the possibility of electrocution was also considered. To our relief the resonation stopped when the rain ceased.

As the gradient increased the group started spreading over the route. Further up the forested path our attention was captivated by nature's small wonders. Little white flowers with a slightly pungent yet mild fragrance. Small bushes with freshly sprouted magenta leaves slowly transforming to leaf green as they matured. The whole process was so unhurried and peaceful, not to mention colorful.

We reached a plateau from where we noticed the col between Peb and Nakhind. The power lines continued up to the col and then descended on the other side to reach Mumbai. By this time the clouds had parted and offered us the glimpses of our final destinationthe top of Peb fort! As we looked at the summit of Peb it seemed quite high indeed. The novices took a deep breath and had their doubts if they would reach it. For us it was routine drudgery. But that is the trouble with knowing.

At some point the thicket was a bit too dense and we soon lost our route. We had to struggle up wet rocks, dense thickets, slippery patches of rock covered with moss and loose soil. As we neared the col the walls of the mountains started closing in on us. Our view was restricted to the plains of Neral on the East from where we began earlier that morning. I was accompanying my college buddy Ankur since he was lagging behind. He rarely went out on treks and today was one of those rare occasions. It was good to have his company today. But this was the first time he had accompanied me in the full fury of monsoons through a tropical rain forest. He was having a hard time but had the determination to make it to the top. I was going to see to it that nothing came in his way.

At the col the views opened out on both the sides, east and west. On the west was Panvel lake and its surrounding villages while to the east we had Neral. The winds here at the col were strong and cool. The rest of the gang was waiting for us and loitering around the narrow ridgeenjoying the moment of sitting atop this mountain in pleasant weather doing nothing in particular. It felt good to do nothing for a change. We were all transfixed by the magic monsoon had brought to the land around us.

The strong winds driving the monsoon clouds gathered speed as they got channeled towards the narrow col. As the clouds passed over the col and opened out on the other side they lost the momentum they had gathered and doubled back forming spectacular eddies of mist.

After a while we proceeded to reach the top. There was a small rock patch to be covered. The excitement while covering the patch gave all the novices a strong dose of adrenalin. The patch had two ways up to the top. One directly through a central crevice, but without any handholds or foot rests. The easier route was on the right side with enough holds. The trouble was it was on the outer side with a straight drop to the silent forest below. I offered assistance (psychological as well as physical) to the ones who would dare to try it from this side. But everybody's happiness was already screwed up, so being hauled from the central route was better than a noisy plunge to the silent forest below. When we finally covered the rock patch there were silent murmurs within the group as to how they were going to get down the patch. In dry season this same patch would have been easier to overcome, but then nobody wished to remain the prisoners of Fort Peb till the monsoon was over! Last year on the same patch someone from our group had dislocated his shoulder and we had faced an emergency. Till now I didn't have the guts to tell anyone about this. But now I also couldn't hold it any longer within myself. I finally told them the story, only to fuel their anticipation. I was now happy!

We traversed the ridge from the rock patch up to the cave at Peb fort. The umbrellas had to be closed because of the strong winds, so we soon got drenched. The wind was sharp and cool. By the time we reached the cave at the summit it was 11:00 am. It had taken us 4 hours to reach here. We settled ourselves in the bit of dry ground that was surprisingly well protected by the rains. Panvel lake and its surrounding areas were clearly visible down below. The continuous rain had the streams and rivers overflowing with water. The lake was being continuously fed by hundreds of streams and rivulets running down the slopes of surrounding mountains. The water bodies were just overflowing with water. Yogi made a very good observation that after a spell of heavy rains you just had to look at the water bodies and watch them grow in size in a few minutes.

Surprisingly we were the first group to reach the top and there were no signs of other people. But that didn't last very long. Next arrived a group of 4 people. After lunch and a small rest we started on our way back to reach Panvel via the village, Maldunge.

Back at the rock patch we went through the familiar procedure of hauling peoplethis time down! At the col we turned west and rapidly descended into the forest below. The rain hit us head-on at eye level and we watched as raindrops flew towards us in slow motion. It was quite a sight.

The path bifurcated in two directions and quite naturally we took the wrong path. We walked for a few minutes till we realized our mistake and retraced our steps. By this time it was 2:30 pm and we wanted to reach Maldunge to catch the 4:00 pm bus to Panvel. We were running out of time and more importantly, the others were running out of energy. We couldn't afford to make mistakes. Our decision of turning back proved to be wise. We would have ended up on the wrong side of an 'angry' river.

The rest of the descent was boring as usual. We passed many waterfalls and streams. Many of us had the urge to stay back and enjoy the water, but we had a bus to catch. I myself have done this so many times that now it doesn't matter anymore. I had become a part of nature and I knew that nature will always be there in one form or the other.

En route we passed green paddy fields, small villages with its people, cattle grazing in the fields. The surrounding mountains also started opening up at intervals. On our right was the majestic Chanderi hidden in the clouds. On the left was the huge plateau of Matheran. Then there was Nakhind with its 'nedhe' (needle hole). That was the word that I had learnt from Rishi, my trek partner, when we met for the first time. These were the same mountains which had got us together and now when I looked at Nakhind's 'nedhe', that bit of conversation regenerated within my head.

Ankur my buddy! He had run out of energy and was just pulling on impulse. When he was away I had filled my letters with the descriptions of majestic mountains and the magic of rain. I had promised him that I would take him there one day. Today eight years later it felt good to fulfill that promise. But right now as I pointed out those grand views to him he sneered at me. I understood that he had liked it but right now was too exhausted to look at it. I accompanied him silently till Maldunge.

4:00 pm at Maldunge, the whole group came together. The bus was scheduled to arrive at 4:00, so by experience we knew it wouldn't arrive till 5:00. We waited it out with some hot tea and snacks. The first monsoon trek of this season had turned out to be good. It was definitely strenuous for novices like Ankur, but they had enjoyed it nevertheless. There was a definite sense of relief that the trek was done. But it was mixed with sadness that they would have to wait for another opportunity to be with nature. Their lingering looks gave away their intentions yes, one day they would be back here in the mountains!

On our way back to Panvel, our bus skirted along the banks of Panvel lake. The entire area was invaded by picnickers. The usual scene of half-naked men, bottles in hand, risking themselves in the rapids, littering the place, destroying nature. Nothing could be sadder. The basic human need to enjoy the outdoors away from the routine drudgery and hectic city life is understandable but their disregard for nature is not.

Back in Mumbai it had also rained heavily. Now the city was wet and quiet. This was the same Mumbai, which never stopped, which never had time for itself. The heavy rains had reminded the city that nature still controlled our lives. As we returned to our homes, there were occasional spells of heavy rains and there's nothing more beautiful than to