Originally Posted on March 16, 2016 by Ishita Shelat
Every picture here will be a great one. Every thought that you think here will be creative. Every sound that you hear will inspire you and every raindrop that falls will lend you another perspective. This is a place just a stone’s throw away from Pune city that is as lovely as the foreign countries that people aspire to visit and the picturesque scenery that artists aspire to paint.
The ride to the place begins with riding from the base of the hill from a dam overflowing with water. The water resembles the ideas that overflow from your mind. You have to go to the top of the hill. On the way up, it is like the inside of the mind, the storehouse. The water is stored there. The still water is so serene; one could never imagine that this is the water which was overflowing from the dam.
On reaching the highest point of the hill, you witness a spectacle. A million stories told within one. You can see the silver lining of the clouds, the sun shining through each one of them, a bird flying across the frame, trees that colour the landscape with all hues of green, a long bridge across the sea-like lake sandwiched between the mountains, row houses along the mountain side, a person jet-skiing across the still water causing a little turbulence in the otherwise calm lake, and the changing colours of the glistening water depending upon which cloud has covered the sun. After passing this point, I wonder if it could get better. I wonder if I should just stay back here and not head to the city which is at the base of the hill. What could be in store for me? Will I wish to come back here, or will the trip be worth it?
While heading to the base of the hill, I reach the place that I could see from the highest point. It is the sea-like lake on the sides of which are built beautiful row-houses. I had imagined Venice to be like this from the books that I had read. The lake had a narrow end on both sides of which, houses were built. The footpath was tastefully done with greyish brick tiles and the steps covered with yellow ones. The combination of grey, yellow and red dominated the architecture. There were tall lamp posts which were reminiscent of the British era. There were colourful paintings on the floor which attracted little children like flowers attract the bees. There was a waterfront area from where you could watch the people who were jet-skiing. Sitting on the bench facing the water, my thoughts went silent. There was nothing on my mind except the sound of the water flowing from the tiny gaps in the bridge. This was man-made paradise.
The names of the shops there excited me. I wanted to be as Hungry as the Hippo, and as Krazy as the Koala, even as twisted as the turkey. After eating at Pizzavala’s I was no longer hungry. What was hungry was my eyesight for more of the beautiful landscape.
On the way back, I saw the sights that I saw during the day with the evening hues colouring the sky and the tiny raindrops blurring my vision. The breeze passed like fingers through my hair, and I thought about what my friend had said while bringing me here. “I’m definitely making someone else experience what I did today. Oh, the joy that it would bring.”
So, Lavasa it is?