I left Mahabaleshwar at 9:30 on the morning of the 30th on a bus bound for Pune (formerly spelled Poona). A few miles east we stopped in another hill station, Panchgani, at about the same altitude. Its downtown seemed much nicer than Mahabaleshwar's. A man, bound for his home in Bombay (as he called it, not Mumbai) boarded the bus and sat next to me. He told me he had first come to Panchgani in 1943 when he was three years old. He said he and his brother, three years older, were orphans and had gone to school in Panchgani, paid for by an Islamic trust. He went on to university in Pune and graduate school in economics in Bombay before going to work for the Bank of India in 1960, traveling all over the world for the bank before retiring after fifty years. He had some great stories about Panchgani and Pune in the 1940's and '50's. He said the school had one car, a 1924 Ford that only one guy knew how to drive. However, he had only one eye and so had to get a special dispensation from the government to allow him to drive it. He has a daughter in San Francisco, at Van Ness and Union he told me, working for an IT company.
From Panchgani we continued east, making a steep descent, with good views of the plains below, to the city of Wai on the plains, dropping from 4000 feet to 2500. We crossed the Krishna River, whose source is nearby. It flows across the subcontinent to the Bay of Bengal. We soon reached the divided highway and followed it north, with the Western Ghats to the west and the plains of the Deccan Plateau to the east. The area was still quite hilly, though, and we were 2000 to 2500 feet above sea level. We crossed a 3000 foot high pass just south of Pune and soon entered that metropolis of almost four million people. It took us a long time to get through the heavy city traffic and reach the bus station next to the train station in the city center. By then it was almost 1:30, after an almost four hour bus trip from Mahabaleshwar. I got a room in an old, rundown, colonial era hotel (over a hundred years old, I was told) right across from the train station. However, it is in a little garden, so somewhat quiet. The big rooms have very high ceilings and there are wide verandas all around both stories. I had a very good thali lunch at a nearby restaurant and then sat in my relatively cool room until about 4. Pune is at about 2000 feet altitude and is said to be cooler than places at lower altitudes.
About 4 I took an autorickshaw to the Shaniwar Wada Palace, built about 1730 for the Peshwa, the hereditary ruler of the city. As I understand it, he was a sort of Prime Minister to the Maratha Confederacy, composed of several Maratha leaders, including the Scindias, Holkars and Gaekwads. The Marathas became quite strong after Aurangzeb's death in 1707 and the quick disintegration of the Moghul Empire. They conquered much of the Deccan and even Delhi in the mid 1700's before being conquered in turn by the British in 1817. The palace burned down in 1828, leaving only the perimeter walls and foundations inside the walls. I looked around inside and walked along the walls. Inside is now a grassy park. Boys and young men were playing whiffle cricket just outside the huge gate to the north, using wood bats but a whiffle type ball, but without holes. About 6 I walked south, reaching a colorful flower market on the streets and then the 1886 covered market. I walked a bit further until it got dark before taking an autorickshaw back to my hotel about 7:30.
The next morning I took an autorickshaw north across the river to the Aga Khan Palace, built in the 1890's as a "famine relief project," the sign said. I've read elsewhere that the Aga Khan, the head of the world's Ismaili Muslims, built a palace in Pune because he liked the horse racing in the area. He donated it to the government in 1969 and it is now one of India's Gandhi memorials. Gandhi was imprisoned here from August 1942 to May 1944 after he started his Quit India movement. It is quite a nice place to be imprisoned. You can visit the rather elegant, high-ceilinged rooms in which he, his wife, his secretary, and four other associates stayed. The extensive grounds are beautiful, too. There are a few photographs and personal items on display, but not much. Both Gandhi's longtime secretary and his wife died here, his secretary soon after arrival and his wife just before he was released. They were cremated in a corner of the grounds and their samadhis (memorials with their ashes) are there. Some of Gandhi's ashes were also brought here and are kept in a memorial nearby.
I took an autorickshaw back across the river to the Osho Meditation Center, run by the followers of Bhagwan Rajneesh, who preferred to be called "Osho" and began his career in Pune in 1974. He moved to eastern Oregon in 1981, setting up an ashram that soon became notorious for its materialism (lots of Rolls-Royces), sexual license, and charges of drug use, tax evasion and even poisoning of local people during a county referendum. He was deported from the United States in 1985 because of immigration irregularities. Twenty-one countries refused him entry, so he came back to Pune, dying in 1990 at age 59, allegedly addicted to Valium.
The ashram, set behind attractive bamboo walls, appears to be thriving. You can stay inside the ashram in a very fancy and expensive hotel and it costs something like $30 a day to use the ashram facilities. In addition, you have to buy two robes, one burgundy and one white and get an on the spot AIDS test. The burgundy robed guy at the entry, with heavy security nearby, told me they no longer allow tours of the facility. A 2010 bombing by Muslims at a nearby bakery frequented by Osho followers and other westerners killed scores of people.
I was allowed into the bookstore next to the entrance, filled with books by Osho and dvds of his teaching. It was air conditioned and staffed by two women and one man, all in red robes. The man looked quite a bit like Tiny Tim (the late 1960's singer and ukulele player, not the Dickens character). Through the wide windows you could see into the ashram, very tastefully done in a sort of Zen style. Off to the side was a courtyard where about thirty people (almost all westerners with some East Asians and maybe one Indian) in red robes were dancing, each on his or her own without a partner, and apparently without music. At least I couldn't hear any. It was quite odd to watch all that silent, individual dancing by red-robed people ranging in age from 30's to 70's. Included were the obligatory gray haired guy with a pony tail and a younger woman dancing somewhat like Snoopy in Peanuts. I watched for quite a while and also enjoyed checking out the titles on Osho's books. Upon leaving, I asked the Tiny Tim lookalike if they were dancing to music or not, and he said they were. I guess I just couldn't hear it through the glass windows.
From there I walked to a nearby small museum on the tribal people of Maharashtra, but they had recently hiked the entry fee for foreigners by a factor of 20, so I passed it up and took an autorickshaw across town to another museum, the Kelkar Museum, full of everyday items used by Indians over the past 200 years or so. It was quite interesting, with cooking materials, lamps, household idols, and lots of other stuff. It also had several very well-done wooden house doors, along with two lovely ivory doors. I spent a couple of hours there and then took an autorickshaw back to my hotel and read for an hour or so. About 4:30 I took an autorickshaw back to the area near the Osho ashram and walked around the Osho Teerth, a park open to the public in the early morning and late afternoon. It contains a statue of Osho next to a beautiful stand of bamboo. With his long beard and cap, he looks a little like a large version of a garden gnome. I walked along the streets of the neighborhood and saw a few ashramites in their red robes before taking an autorickshaw back to the hotel.
I slept until almost 8 the next morning. I didn't do much but eat breakfast and lunch and spend time at an internet cafe until about 1:30, when I spent an hour or so trying to find the right bus to another fort, this one called Sinhagad, about twenty miles from Pune. I eventually gave up and came back to the hotel and the internet cafe.
That evening after dinner I got a haircut. The barber told me it would cost 30 rupees and as usual in India proceeded to cut my hair very short on the sides but leave it relatively long on top. Then, before I could stop him, he began applying what he told me was sandalwood paste on my face. I told him I didn't want that, but he waived off my objections. After he dried the paste with an electric fan, he sprayed water on my face and wiped off the paste. He then applied various other substances, one of which smelled like Vicks Vaporub, each of which he wiped off after spraying my face with water. Next, he used some sort of mechanical device to give me a face massage, which I did not particularly enjoy, especially when pressed against my eyes. Finally, he wiped my face clean and massaged my head rather roughly. You wouldn't want him to do that if you had a headache. He charged me 300 rupees, ten times what he had told me. I told him I hadn't wanted more than a haircut and offered him 100 rupees, which he refused. I again offered him the 100 rupees, which he again refused, coming down to 280. I walked out and that was that.
The next morning I boarded a bus about 10 to visit some caves about 30 miles northwest of Pune, just off the road to Mumbai. It took the bus about an hour just to get out of Pune and its suburbs and satellite cities and then another 45 minutes or so making a gradual ascent through a wide valley between hills before I got off and took an autorickshaw to the base of the hill with the Karla Caves. I reached them after a short but steep ascent of about 350 feet. There were Hindu pilgrims ascending along with me as there is a Hindu temple right in front of the main cave, which is Buddhist, dating from the first century AD.
This cave, not really a cave but a rock cut temple, is very impressive. Just outside, next to the Hindu temple, is a pillar maybe 30 or 40 feet high with three sculpted lions atop it. The cave facade is even higher, with a large horseshoe shaped window above the three doors to let in light. The first vestibule you enter has some wonderful sculpture, elephants with Buddhas on them (these dating, they think, from the fifth century AD, as Buddha wasn't represented in human form in the first century) and several pairs of men and very sensuous looking women. The speculation is that these represent the donors of the caves.
Beyond is the main hall, about 130 feet long and 45 feet wide, divided by columns into a large central section and two smaller side sections. It is surprisingly large, with a barrel vaulted ceiling that must be 40 feet high or more. The ceiling is ribbed with thick teak planks cut into a horseshoe shape, following the shape of the barrel vault. It is thought that some might be original, 2000 years old. There are fifteen large columns on each side and seven more behind a large stupa at the end of the hall. The stupa has a teak umbrella atop it. The thirty columns on the sides each have two kneeling elephants on top, each elephant with two riders. It is a very impressive place. There are other rock cut caves at the site, but the rest seem to be cells for the monks attending the site.
I spent more than an hour there and then walked down and took an autorickshaw for about five miles across the valley to the hills on the other (south) side and made another steep but short climb up to the Bhaja Caves, another set of Buddhist rock cut caves. These are even older, from the second or first century BC. There is a hall similar to the great hall at Karla, but smaller and without sculpture. A stupa is at the rear and there are teak planks along the barrel vault ceiling as at Karla. It appears that the facade was of wood, as the opening is large with some holes where wood might have been anchored. As at Karla, the other caves are mostly monastic cells, with rock cut benches for sleeping. One cave, however, has five stupas within it and nine more just outside. Another cave has sculptures. It was locked, so I could see only the ones on the outside.
I walked down, and then walked a mile or so to the train station in the little town of Malavli. I had to wait there for over an hour before catching a train about 5:30 back to Pune, arriving before 7.
From Panchgani we continued east, making a steep descent, with good views of the plains below, to the city of Wai on the plains, dropping from 4000 feet to 2500. We crossed the Krishna River, whose source is nearby. It flows across the subcontinent to the Bay of Bengal. We soon reached the divided highway and followed it north, with the Western Ghats to the west and the plains of the Deccan Plateau to the east. The area was still quite hilly, though, and we were 2000 to 2500 feet above sea level. We crossed a 3000 foot high pass just south of Pune and soon entered that metropolis of almost four million people. It took us a long time to get through the heavy city traffic and reach the bus station next to the train station in the city center. By then it was almost 1:30, after an almost four hour bus trip from Mahabaleshwar. I got a room in an old, rundown, colonial era hotel (over a hundred years old, I was told) right across from the train station. However, it is in a little garden, so somewhat quiet. The big rooms have very high ceilings and there are wide verandas all around both stories. I had a very good thali lunch at a nearby restaurant and then sat in my relatively cool room until about 4. Pune is at about 2000 feet altitude and is said to be cooler than places at lower altitudes.
About 4 I took an autorickshaw to the Shaniwar Wada Palace, built about 1730 for the Peshwa, the hereditary ruler of the city. As I understand it, he was a sort of Prime Minister to the Maratha Confederacy, composed of several Maratha leaders, including the Scindias, Holkars and Gaekwads. The Marathas became quite strong after Aurangzeb's death in 1707 and the quick disintegration of the Moghul Empire. They conquered much of the Deccan and even Delhi in the mid 1700's before being conquered in turn by the British in 1817. The palace burned down in 1828, leaving only the perimeter walls and foundations inside the walls. I looked around inside and walked along the walls. Inside is now a grassy park. Boys and young men were playing whiffle cricket just outside the huge gate to the north, using wood bats but a whiffle type ball, but without holes. About 6 I walked south, reaching a colorful flower market on the streets and then the 1886 covered market. I walked a bit further until it got dark before taking an autorickshaw back to my hotel about 7:30.
The next morning I took an autorickshaw north across the river to the Aga Khan Palace, built in the 1890's as a "famine relief project," the sign said. I've read elsewhere that the Aga Khan, the head of the world's Ismaili Muslims, built a palace in Pune because he liked the horse racing in the area. He donated it to the government in 1969 and it is now one of India's Gandhi memorials. Gandhi was imprisoned here from August 1942 to May 1944 after he started his Quit India movement. It is quite a nice place to be imprisoned. You can visit the rather elegant, high-ceilinged rooms in which he, his wife, his secretary, and four other associates stayed. The extensive grounds are beautiful, too. There are a few photographs and personal items on display, but not much. Both Gandhi's longtime secretary and his wife died here, his secretary soon after arrival and his wife just before he was released. They were cremated in a corner of the grounds and their samadhis (memorials with their ashes) are there. Some of Gandhi's ashes were also brought here and are kept in a memorial nearby.
I took an autorickshaw back across the river to the Osho Meditation Center, run by the followers of Bhagwan Rajneesh, who preferred to be called "Osho" and began his career in Pune in 1974. He moved to eastern Oregon in 1981, setting up an ashram that soon became notorious for its materialism (lots of Rolls-Royces), sexual license, and charges of drug use, tax evasion and even poisoning of local people during a county referendum. He was deported from the United States in 1985 because of immigration irregularities. Twenty-one countries refused him entry, so he came back to Pune, dying in 1990 at age 59, allegedly addicted to Valium.
The ashram, set behind attractive bamboo walls, appears to be thriving. You can stay inside the ashram in a very fancy and expensive hotel and it costs something like $30 a day to use the ashram facilities. In addition, you have to buy two robes, one burgundy and one white and get an on the spot AIDS test. The burgundy robed guy at the entry, with heavy security nearby, told me they no longer allow tours of the facility. A 2010 bombing by Muslims at a nearby bakery frequented by Osho followers and other westerners killed scores of people.
I was allowed into the bookstore next to the entrance, filled with books by Osho and dvds of his teaching. It was air conditioned and staffed by two women and one man, all in red robes. The man looked quite a bit like Tiny Tim (the late 1960's singer and ukulele player, not the Dickens character). Through the wide windows you could see into the ashram, very tastefully done in a sort of Zen style. Off to the side was a courtyard where about thirty people (almost all westerners with some East Asians and maybe one Indian) in red robes were dancing, each on his or her own without a partner, and apparently without music. At least I couldn't hear any. It was quite odd to watch all that silent, individual dancing by red-robed people ranging in age from 30's to 70's. Included were the obligatory gray haired guy with a pony tail and a younger woman dancing somewhat like Snoopy in Peanuts. I watched for quite a while and also enjoyed checking out the titles on Osho's books. Upon leaving, I asked the Tiny Tim lookalike if they were dancing to music or not, and he said they were. I guess I just couldn't hear it through the glass windows.
From there I walked to a nearby small museum on the tribal people of Maharashtra, but they had recently hiked the entry fee for foreigners by a factor of 20, so I passed it up and took an autorickshaw across town to another museum, the Kelkar Museum, full of everyday items used by Indians over the past 200 years or so. It was quite interesting, with cooking materials, lamps, household idols, and lots of other stuff. It also had several very well-done wooden house doors, along with two lovely ivory doors. I spent a couple of hours there and then took an autorickshaw back to my hotel and read for an hour or so. About 4:30 I took an autorickshaw back to the area near the Osho ashram and walked around the Osho Teerth, a park open to the public in the early morning and late afternoon. It contains a statue of Osho next to a beautiful stand of bamboo. With his long beard and cap, he looks a little like a large version of a garden gnome. I walked along the streets of the neighborhood and saw a few ashramites in their red robes before taking an autorickshaw back to the hotel.
I slept until almost 8 the next morning. I didn't do much but eat breakfast and lunch and spend time at an internet cafe until about 1:30, when I spent an hour or so trying to find the right bus to another fort, this one called Sinhagad, about twenty miles from Pune. I eventually gave up and came back to the hotel and the internet cafe.
That evening after dinner I got a haircut. The barber told me it would cost 30 rupees and as usual in India proceeded to cut my hair very short on the sides but leave it relatively long on top. Then, before I could stop him, he began applying what he told me was sandalwood paste on my face. I told him I didn't want that, but he waived off my objections. After he dried the paste with an electric fan, he sprayed water on my face and wiped off the paste. He then applied various other substances, one of which smelled like Vicks Vaporub, each of which he wiped off after spraying my face with water. Next, he used some sort of mechanical device to give me a face massage, which I did not particularly enjoy, especially when pressed against my eyes. Finally, he wiped my face clean and massaged my head rather roughly. You wouldn't want him to do that if you had a headache. He charged me 300 rupees, ten times what he had told me. I told him I hadn't wanted more than a haircut and offered him 100 rupees, which he refused. I again offered him the 100 rupees, which he again refused, coming down to 280. I walked out and that was that.
The next morning I boarded a bus about 10 to visit some caves about 30 miles northwest of Pune, just off the road to Mumbai. It took the bus about an hour just to get out of Pune and its suburbs and satellite cities and then another 45 minutes or so making a gradual ascent through a wide valley between hills before I got off and took an autorickshaw to the base of the hill with the Karla Caves. I reached them after a short but steep ascent of about 350 feet. There were Hindu pilgrims ascending along with me as there is a Hindu temple right in front of the main cave, which is Buddhist, dating from the first century AD.
This cave, not really a cave but a rock cut temple, is very impressive. Just outside, next to the Hindu temple, is a pillar maybe 30 or 40 feet high with three sculpted lions atop it. The cave facade is even higher, with a large horseshoe shaped window above the three doors to let in light. The first vestibule you enter has some wonderful sculpture, elephants with Buddhas on them (these dating, they think, from the fifth century AD, as Buddha wasn't represented in human form in the first century) and several pairs of men and very sensuous looking women. The speculation is that these represent the donors of the caves.
Beyond is the main hall, about 130 feet long and 45 feet wide, divided by columns into a large central section and two smaller side sections. It is surprisingly large, with a barrel vaulted ceiling that must be 40 feet high or more. The ceiling is ribbed with thick teak planks cut into a horseshoe shape, following the shape of the barrel vault. It is thought that some might be original, 2000 years old. There are fifteen large columns on each side and seven more behind a large stupa at the end of the hall. The stupa has a teak umbrella atop it. The thirty columns on the sides each have two kneeling elephants on top, each elephant with two riders. It is a very impressive place. There are other rock cut caves at the site, but the rest seem to be cells for the monks attending the site.
I spent more than an hour there and then walked down and took an autorickshaw for about five miles across the valley to the hills on the other (south) side and made another steep but short climb up to the Bhaja Caves, another set of Buddhist rock cut caves. These are even older, from the second or first century BC. There is a hall similar to the great hall at Karla, but smaller and without sculpture. A stupa is at the rear and there are teak planks along the barrel vault ceiling as at Karla. It appears that the facade was of wood, as the opening is large with some holes where wood might have been anchored. As at Karla, the other caves are mostly monastic cells, with rock cut benches for sleeping. One cave, however, has five stupas within it and nine more just outside. Another cave has sculptures. It was locked, so I could see only the ones on the outside.
I walked down, and then walked a mile or so to the train station in the little town of Malavli. I had to wait there for over an hour before catching a train about 5:30 back to Pune, arriving before 7.
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