A white
plastic plate floats in the little stream made by the heavy rains. A fat
frog hitches a ride on it.
The plate
bobs up and down as it meanders through the thick vegetation that has invaded
the old fort in the monsoon. On low spots little pools of clear water had
formed. The vines clinging to the fort walls and the palm trees made their
artistic reflections in the water.
We follow the
plate till it is arrested by a cluster of white water lilies growing in a tiny pool.
There are other plastic plates there pretending to be lilies. They have a slim
chance of becoming lilies anytime soon because plastic is a tough material and
takes forever to disintegrate.
The plastic
plates seemed so out of place and ruined the moment of absolute beauty for
visitors. As we moved to the interior of
the fort, we noticed more such evidence of human carelessness. We also noticed
that there were no waste bins to collect rubbish anywhere in the fort.
It is an old
fort built by the Portuguese centuries ago in the small town of Vasai near
Mumbai. It has now fallen to ruins, but it offers spectacular views of the
narrow creek and brings quiet to the mind. It has some majestic spots with high
arches, massive doorways, huge churches, graveyards, tunnels and passageways.
While
growing up, we used to picnic in some of the quiet spots. It used to be a
special treat. Some adventurous children would ignore warnings and go around searching
for hidden treasure amongst the tunnels which ran inside the fort. During those
years, we carried fruit and other cooked food in baskets.
Sometimes
there were rumours that ‘foreigners’ have come to visit the fort. In our small
town where foreigners were hardly seen, it was always a curiosity to see what
the white people from the West looked like, how they dressed, and how they
talked. Groups of boys would then visit the fort ‘to see’ the foreigners who
took pictures of them! The ‘foreigners’ were probably researchers from the West
or the Portuguese descendants of the people who lived in the fort long ago.
Being close
to Mumbai, the fort offers a historical setting for Bollywood films too. So
people in our villages would go to have a look at the film stars who fought mock
fights or danced around the trees singing songs in the rain.
A few years
later, as young lovers, we sat in the nooks around the fort and made earnest promises
that would last a lifetime and beyond. The fort was our silent witness as it
had been to the young people from several generations.
We visit the
fort every year. We have watched changes over the years – buildings being built
inside the fort walls, a wall that crumbled in the rains, and an aged tree that
fell in the storm, and so on. Echoes of local children playing cricket resound
throughout the fort whenever we visit.
Most of the
locals intend to conserve the natural beauty of this monument. Somehow.
