"Please don't put sugar, didi" I blurted out with my hand stretched, but I had used the word "cheeni" and before I could stop her, Maruti's wife had already put a spoon of "shakkar" in the lemon tea. Sugar gives me acidity and leaves a sour aftertaste. She looked at me, puzzled. Marathis call sugar "shakkar" pretty much like we do in many other Indian languages. I realized if I ask her for sugarless tea now, she would have to make it again. So I gestured that everything is fine and accepted the red tin cup with both hands. It was a tiny cup that had seen better days. But it was the best Maruti's wife had.
It was early in the morning and there was a chill in the air, and I was happy for the hot cup of beverage.
The previous evening, in a bid to find a place to stay near Panshet Dam, I had lost my way somewhere along the banks of the huge lake and circumnavigated the entire catchment in search of some GPS signal. If the motorbike had stalled, I couldn't have pushed it back to civilization, and if it fell, I didn't have the strength to pick it up. Going back to Pune meant another sleepless night with my friends who are die-hard nocturnal beings. And I had to explore more of Maharastra after having covered Panchgani, Mahabaleswar, and Pratapgarh Fort earlier that week. I came across a signboard with Panshet Valley View Resort written on it, pointing upward into the hills, and reached the place after 30 mins of negotiating broken roads through dense jungles. The sun was going down, the cicadas were out with a commitment to make the entire place sound eerie, and the little man Maruti was standing at the gate like a spirit. He didn't look surprised to see me. "Come in," he welcomed me with a smile.
It was a sprawling resort within the jungle with a pool, tents, normal rooms, rooms on stilts, a basketball court, a dorm, and a kitchen. My spirits were lifted. Finally a place to shack up for the night, then. Where are the others, I inquired.
Nobody, sir, there's nobody. They come on the weekends from Pune. Couples, mostly, he added. Sometimes large families and groups as well. By now he had opened the lock to a room with a spectacular view of the lake. I was in two minds about staying there and going out again in search of another place in the wilderness. We settled for a price that included my dinner and breakfast, and by then the sun had slunk away behind the hills, leaving a last bit of orange and blue on the sky. I couldn't have clutched on to the colors to ward off the gremlins in my mind. They come visiting on a solitary night. The full moon cast moving shadows of trees on the glass door to the balcony, and some restless night birds joined the cicadas. Have you heard a frog calling for help as it slides into a snake's mouth? It sounds like a groan that starts off as a tenor sax, and then gets higher in pitch like a shrill cry, before suddenly going absolutely quiet. I pulled the curtains and could feel my throat going dry.
Somebody knocked on the door. Chicken sukka and salad for dinner, sir.
I don't remember when I slept. I finished a book I had been meaning to read for a long time. The epilogue talked about how the book was originally written in 69, but was revisited in 1984. Read like a pastiche, I thought as I pulled the patchwork quilt over me, trying to push away the cold, slithering snakes crawling up my legs.
The morning was at 6.25, and sunrise precisely at 7.00. I busily clicked some pics, packed my little bag, and left. On the way out, Maruti called me to his house. But you had asked for an omelet for breakfast, he asked. I tried talking to him about intermittent fasting and then realized I must sound like a joker to them. As we grow older, we should eat lesser. He nodded in silent agreement. By then a little kid with a warm smile had come out to play on the porch. I gave him my metal water bottle to play with, when Maruti's wife got me the lemon tea.
On the way to Sinhagadh Fort I could see the jawans of the army jogging up the fort road in full gear. I waved at them and they waved back. I found myself smiling as I kept rolling my tongue, waiting for the sour aftertaste of sugar to set in.
Strangely, it was sweet. 
