Oh Pune!

It's the middle of May here in Bangalore. It's supposed to be hot and humid, sultry and sweaty, and up until yesterday, Bangalore lived up to it's billing.
But yesterday, dark clouds peeped over the horizon, hesitantly at first, and with gay abandon once they figured that they were being welcomed by all and sundry. It rained in the evening, and today has been anything but a midsummer's day.
It's been overcast, windy, grey and cool. It's got adrak chai and kanda bhaji written all over it. That kind of a day.
The kind of day when you look out the window and decide to bunk college. The kind of day when you decide to take the bike out for a spin.
Reach collge (all idiots who think that bunking college is about not going to college - go die), drink the day's first cuppa, and if that's your thing, the day's first sutta.
Think and ponder, chat and discuss, debate and pontificate. Get your gang up and ready, fill her up, and set off on the road to Sinhagad. Across Kothrud, over the new bridge next to Toll Hospital, onto the highway. Past the city, past Abhiruchi, across the glorious expanse of the Khadakwasla backwaters, with Peacock Bay over on the other side. On and on, until you reach the start of the Sinhagad Ghat.
Bikes in first gear now, a maximum of second. The cool wind on your face, maybe some drops of rain. The fresh smell of that newly wet earth, the almost dried out yellowish grass swaying in the breeze. The ever increasing vista, growing in scope and grandeur with every twist and turn of the ghat. The huddled vendors at the side of the road, with black tarpaulins flung over hastily erected bamboos - with their wood fires and and aluminium kettles and those glasses. A lady at the back, throwing in fresh batches of freshly cut onions dipped in that heavenly batter - glorious kanda bhaji with lasanachi chutney - moksha at 10 bucks a plate.
And finally the summit, windswept and bare - the howling wind in your ears and the incredible coolness on your face. You hug the jacket that you're wearing a little closer, and grin at each other in complete understanding.
The trek up to the very top, past the caves, past the darwaja, past the gardens, up to Dev Taaki. A glass of the impossibly cool water, and maybe a cup of tea. Another plate of kanda bhaji, now that I think of it.
And then the long drive back down, past the same tea vendors, back into town.
Although I vote for a spot of makyacha kanis (ear of corn) near Khadakwasla, with a leetle beet of nimbu, a leetle beet of salt, and a leetle beet of red chili powder. No?
The ride back into town complete, we make a temporary halt at Good Luck. Lunch would be a plate of Mutton Biryani, with a Bread Pudding to follow. Maybe a cup of chai, feefty feefty.
Now I want it to rain all the way to the hostel. Reach there thoroughly drenched, change into something dry, play a couple of games of TT... and in a couple of hours... good night.
Dedicated to all the Punekars I know. They might (and probably do) hate me for having written this... but now what to do.
Incurably homesick and proud of it.
Cheers, all.