Another Time Another Place

As the lyrics of Another time, another place go...
"Bright morning lights
Wipe the sleep from another day's eye"
Walking at Matheran and at Bhuigaon, one a hill station and another a sea side village, I see the common thread of grace and dignity running each day through the lives of local people.  The work is physically hard, monotonous, the returns are meagre and sometimes non-existent.  They do as routine what we do as 'adventure',  but they are always pleasant, courteous and industrious.

Done the washing
It is morning on a beach at Bhuigaon, the sun is up and it is breeze-less hot,  these ladies have just washed clothes and utensils, they walk home, chatting as they go, but they are not complaining. Early morning bikers have criss-crossed the beach with trails before the tide comes in to wipe the slate clean before yet another day.

The lady from below
This lady has carried a heavy load up to Matheran from a village in the plains below. She has walked nearly two hours vertically uphill and she does this every single day in the tourist season. She carries fodder for the horses that take well fed tourists for a  ride (sometimes literally).  What is matter of daily fact for this tough lady is a herculean adventure  for a group of hikers nearby, congratulating themselves at the climb they had done in over three hours,.

Maruti the milk carrier
He comes up the hill to Matheran each day, a climb of over 600 metres altitude over four kilometers, balancing about 40 litres of milk (that's forty kilos) and not spilling a drop.  He doesn't cry over spilled milk, and the climb is only getting here, after that he has yet to walk to market and supply the milk to buyers. I was told that there are 19 ways to climb up to Matheran and villagers from below come up each day. 

Perfect Balance
These ladies are off  to work at dawn.  It promises to be a hot and humid day, so they carry a  plastic bottle with water for the day.  Chatting as they go, their elegance and poise is visible in the ease with which they carry their head loads. Small loads or large ones, men and women carry them easily, the natural poise and gait this develops would teach finishing schools a thing or two.

Aged beyond his years
this fisherman balances a load on his shoulder as he heads towards his boat. He had had a neat haircut, wore clean clothes and was well turned out.  Despite the early hour I found the men and women well groomed before the day's labour. The close-to-shore fisherfolk, and I saw many women in the boats, get  just a few kilograms of fish after hours out in the broiling sun.

Off to market
these folk climb a 600 metre hill in under two hours with a huge load, then pause for a few moments to rest.  I saw a group of women and children come up, they were strung out based on their ability to climb, there were old matrons, I am guessing in their 60's, and young kids not even in their teens.   As each reached the top, she waited for those behind, finally when all had gathered at the top, they headed off into town on their business to sell fodder, act as tourist guides, or work in the many holiday homes in the hill station.  The lady in this picture hid her  walking stick in the bushes by the track,  to be picked up on her way back.

At the end of a day
Most of the tourists have gone,  waiting for a stray tourist, this cobbler enjoys a pensive moment at the end of the day.   Did he earn, did he not, who knows. These people at different places begin the day before dawn, work hard till sunset and sleep only to awake to the bright lights of another day. The lyrics of this song says it beautifully...
"At the end of the day
Some you win, some you don't
So I am glad that I'm here
With some friends that I know
Always there with a smile
Saying you are not alone"