Man Made Marvel: Exploring Wanakbori Dam & World’s Largest Aqueduct in Gujarat | RoadsterRides Travel Blog

 WORLD'S LARGEST AQUEDUCT

The sheer will, ego and pride of man, can manier times default the time and the test's of nature that follow behind in it's wake. God created us in his image, but there are far more times we have seen wonder's, jaw dropping architecture's that send's ripple's across the fabric of the creation itself, man sometimes create master piece's from muds and stone's that for generation's is cherished, preserved, protected and even awarded as being the evidence that man once or does exist beyond the trials of time and nature.

One such hidden gem, a silver ore of architectural marvel, subtly endures such a test - constantly, amidst the dry, arid region of Balasinor near Ahmedabad, Gujarat, India. The only time it is enveloped in a more habitable, lush green canopy of tree's and shrub's is the romantic and paint brush mood of the almighty - Monsoon!

  

It was a few day's ago, I was scrapping through the map of my state and trying to find something unique, something historical, a place where you don't leave behind something for once but you take back something to cherish for years to come and share the experience with your viewer's, friends and family, I was almost about to give up, but India will never disappoint you in whole, you need to believe that because at this particular fork in the road where I had to decide either to give up the search or wait for an epiphany, I struck a eureka moment.

It was right there, sitting, for years, 2 places stacked up one upon each other -12km's apart, The Wanakbori Dam and Mahi Sagar Aqueduct. Both standing fast with valor against the frost of the nature, continuously bashing it with massive hydraulic force coming from a catchment area of more than 20.82 km². That is in itself huge, sheer nature's majestic raw form, hiding amongst the calm flowing river.

Recently there has been lot of rains in the region, turning the melodious river chimes on the bed rock into a thunderous roar that one could hear from the entry point of the dam, I was drawn to it like the opposite poles of the magnet, my steps hurried towards the roar and it dawned slowly in a near distance. By the time I could digest the view I was quickly stopped by a crew cut hairstyle officer, the first glance at him, I knew I was in trouble, the officer strictly said to me "Hey You! How did you manage to come inside, the dam is closed for visitor's, vacate the premises immediately!" and the only word I could say in the moment was in complete surrender "Ok Sir I am leaving!" I demanded no explanation, the officer's tone and pitch level was self explanatory, he was concerned and displeasured by me - a civilian, on the premises he is responsible to safe guard.

With the same hurried step that I came in, I was going back out the same path, with a walk of shame and a guided escort by the officer himself. He made sure I was outside the gate and made me delete the recorded footage, well whatever few second's I was able to record before I was thrown out, but he saw me for a second and felt my eagerness to see the dam and with a soft tone said "Boy!",  while I was walking towards my motorcycle, "There is a small gate up ahead, go there you can safely see the dam from there" and he vanished back into his duty.

Safe? yes! because of the heavy rain's there have been incidences beyond human control, floodings and cloud burst's that make the river's unpredictable, untamed, all of sudden, out of nowhere. So he was right to guide me out while indeed the river was bit flowing high that time. But it's the thrill that we chase and manier times valor filled men, responsible one's, get thrill seeker's like me out of such uncanny situation's, so did this time.

Brief About Wanakbori Dam

This man made marvel bathe's in the river named Mahi which mouth's into the Gulf of Khambhat, Coast of Gujarat into the Arabian Sea while its source origin's from a village named Minda in the Indian State of Madhya Pradesh, neighbor to State of Gujarat. The river itself is alive, as it tread's upwards, to northern state of Rajasthan and dive's down inside Gujarat and into its final destination of Arabian Sea.

The dam has a design of 'Overflowing', where the water is slowed down but not completely stopped but rationed into further village's, feeding their farms via help of canals and a Hydro electric plant that lighten up's the near by home's.

It is spanned across 796 meters across the river and has an estimated submerge value of 24 village's out of 74 villages it cater's. The water is used to irrigation purpose and power generation through the Wanakbori Power Plant (1MW) which is just up ahead the river from the dam.

Inaugurated in 1958, the dam has 33 Hydroplus Barrage Fuse gates, at a height of 25meters leading to storage capacity of approximate 42 million Cubic meters.

The gates itself is a marvel as it collapses automatically in times of flooding not to stop but to let go of excess water in times of natural forces in play. I found this very interesting.
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After basking in the mild setting of the sun that day, I stayed there for a while, hearing the water made me somehow stop and pause, amidst the sound of water crackling on the bed rock I found a tad bit of void, some kind of solace I must say. I snapped back into reality as the sun pinched my skin and I rustled my backpack with my camera and water bottle, saddled it onto my motorcycle and made headway towards the next destination, I was on the clock as it was the weekend ride and needed to come back home before the sun sparkled into its full glory in the noon.

The back road's is very scenic, from my experience of riding in my state - I have come to believe that the back road's are much fun then the traditional highway's that make the journey quick, these road's have the hustle and bustle of a typical village life, a kind of chaos you would love to be in just because it's peaceful at the same time with the camels, chicken's, manier times cow's and buffalo's running across the road's or just vailing away time standing right in the middle with no care of the moving world around them. 

Probably something they already know, they are in on a secret but are blessed to not be able to talk about it, yet they want to share it by their behavior is what I feel. Stop - Pause for a while and see around for what life and nature has to offer you while giving away few minutes to this exercise that they want to share will not be in vain but something definitely to gain, something to take back. 

I manier times see these animal's on my ride's and try to mimic them, taking a few minute's off my ride and it automatically changes into meditation - for say, the thoughts tend to be calmer, wider, imaginative while I pause beside or behind them while the chew their favorite grass just like a man enjoying his evening whiskey with a cigar. That's the secret I guess they want to share, pause.

Well, cornering through the village roads and its pollen filled air, I quickly made way to a canal, not far, that hugs to a side road with a canopy of lush green trees, just like best friends holding hand to a corner food joint on a cool summer noon. The only hinderance to the world's largest aqueduct was a rail track right on the bridge before, but luckily my cruiser crossed over a make shift stone path that was probably made by the local villager's for their cattle's to cross, well it worked.

On the first glance you can miss it very easily, its so well camouflaged to look like a normal cross over bridge for vehicles, but when you stop 25 meters over the Mahi River and take a peak over its walls, you would see the crossover of 2 rivers, one flowing below naturally and one man made marvel carrying the Narmada river with speed bypassing the rustling nature and right into the city, its a massive network that intercepts at this particular point, spanning across 700m over the river, feeding the water for irrigation purposes. Its a part of a long chain of Narmada River flowing effortlessly for more than 140km's.

Small idea to how majestic this place is, there is a competitor in the world for this place in Great Britain, it is home to the worlds longest aqueduct, namely Pontycysyllte Aqueduct, which is even the highest aqueduct in the world and a protected UNESCO Site built from 25th July 1795 to 26th November 1805. Would love to visit this place one day.

To understand much better with visual reference, you would love this vlog of mine when I visited this places over the weekend: Wanakbori Dam & World's Largest Aqueduct

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Few Pictures More:

Mahi River Bed, 25m Above, Thermal Plant In View.

                           Over World's Largest Aqueduct, Ferrying Narmada River Water

A World Without Men: A Reflection on Balance, Void, and Existence

The wish was granted. The higher power heard and had enough of it, they are bored and utter irritated with the same prayer's every day, "We don't need men, We are fine without them, Need a world without men, Why should men have all the fun?" they said its enough, and snapped the fingers! Click!

The morning followed with it's general calmness yet a storm brewing along side the Ghana coffee in the machine, men are gone from the world, the complete gender doesn't exist anymore! Poof! vanished without a trace from the yesterday and even yester years! Whole history of the existence of race on earth, men has been erased like the writing on the beach, a clean slate. But yet the one thing was left behind, memories of them being around but only within those were living, rest everything was a wiped clean, books, scriptures, paintings, statues, everything that was dedicated to or made for men was gone.

Strange thought, isn't it? Well, first the world barely noticed it, the female gender had already taken over the partial remains' from the yesterday so everything was working smooth, it was just another day at office, no one noticed a regular joe hasn't checked in. Who cares? if they don't check in for the next couple of month's, female's are good enough to head ahead without the regular joe's of the office.

Trains are running on time, children are laughing in the park, playing tea parties. offices are running smoothly, women are getting paid fairly and climbing the ladder's faster as all women understand each other telepathically and empathetically, they are completing each other's sentences even before it has been thought inside the brain, the surface of the earth has not suffered a single crack, well immediately at least. But the world has all together has gone silent, and that's noticeable, every few hours, leading to minutes and then to seconds of the day, everyday...

Then come's a day, the kids are playing in the park, no guidance, no one to look after them, while the only remaining gender is busy making the world go round, cluttering, blabbering across the keyboards in their work, making the ends meet, but the kid in the park is now bored, sad, feeling lost, feeling alone and starts crying as there is no one around she can look up to, she can cling onto just of the sake of it, just for that little nap after a hard tea party she had and the friend forgot to give her the cookie at the table, and now there is no one to console her that it is alright let's her hold a pinky finger and takes her to buy a ice-cream from the nearest ice-cream truck.

The fight in the school broke out, the girls had their own version of fight's and fight club's, pulled each other hair's till they looked they had just been jolted with 1100V's of electricity with a bruised lip and knee to no one to come aid to except the school nurse she did her best, but she needs that band aid kiss that she will no later get it once her mom returns back in the evening.

There are female pedophile's now roaming in the neighborhood, knowing there are no beardy giant's wanting to stop them in the path just by the look of it, she is now brave, arrogant and twitchy for the next pray, before she has one and disappears into the dark alleyways, it has been reported but not enough unit's to be dispatched immediately at the location as the gender is stretched thin and no one to cover for in the void's that has been freshly left behind while there are the other's societal outreaches being piled up.

The train's are running good until the coupling came loose over the period of time, no one is available immediately due to void, but the engines are useless without the bogeys attached, you get the vibe of it, the heavy work is yet to be filled in, train's are getting late, people have started reaching no where without the transport's network working smoothly, the work is now piling up on the world from high rise multi billion dollar, electricity guzzling enterprises, its trickling down from errors, maintenance bloopers, the heavy things need more newly trained worker's to take the risk, or looking down from the 50th floor and still get that bolt riveted into the girdle.

The ageing mother has forgotten her last medicine and insurance policy that has been yet not filed, with no records of her being able to remember, the hospitals has given the final notice to clear the bill and discharge or take legal actions, the border's around the world are suddenly not 100% guarded, there are void's there too, the brotherhood has gone into ghost mode, but not even omnipresent, the grenade's are no more being hugged by the fellow to save the team, no more blood stained last letter's handed over too. Female's are running it all, with whatever best they know of all, the one's that are hardened and are ruthless are gaining slowly over the ones that remain, the encore of breaching the pinned down location's are replaced by thin yet roaring battle hardened lady officer's but yet lack the immediate impulse to jump into the fire fight that the men carried before, the hesitation...

From everything the world had to offer and has to offer, now has no men in it, it has to be managed by the female's, the only living gender amongst all things living the god had blessed the land and ocean with. The catch here is, without men the population is limited and cant grow. The cross species trials from single mammals have miserably failed costing the very precious lives that remain, scientist cannot re-create a pattern into the DNA to compensate and reproduce without the male, like the many mammals could do. Is there a breakthrough here? But time is not a friend.

The option's have run out, the cards are all played, the time is unlimited, resources are massively abundant now, the population though is the only non renewable resource left which is getting depleted faster than any other resource's, with every passing day the age factor is playing its role, the silver hair's are fading across the world, possible a next 100 years are left for the population to either find a way to repopulate, find a way to extend their existence or they would eventually all wither away like dust on a windy day, leaving behind world left for the green's, that's what's left of it.

There are so many aspects that each gender specifically cover, which is unimaginable, yet it puts a 'my god' feel when we sit down and just think about it, even more when you put it into word's, it becomes a unfathomable abyss, which only get's darker as you seek more deeper, quieter. A white noise is what we would find, I guess at the end, screaming in silence.

The silence of the world was now deafening. Women had pushed boundaries, conquered roles, managed industries, governments, homes, and even wars, not just the one's with gun powder but with the emotional turmoil they were feeling without a counsil to their error's, miseries, loneliness yet they were proving to be surviving - at a cost which was depleting faster with every wrong decision. They were proving they could survive, lead, and thrive but many aspects and segment's they gasped with a nostalgia, with an feeling of void that somethings were better when men were around, could have been they felt the grunt? or just lazy like the good old day's and that men took care in their free time but none could question their strength anymore while they are gone, strength is no more an option - its the only choice. Yet, something lingered in every heart, an emptiness that no innovation, no committee, no laboratory could fill anymore. A void.

The granted wish was never about survival but the blessing was about balance. The perfect harmony of Ying and Yang, the echo of good and evil, the joy of action and passion.

The laughter of a father swinging his daughter high into the air.
The protective presence of a brother walking his sister home at night.
The quiet endurance of a husband who works silently so his family never feels the weight he carries.
The unspoken bond between a son and an ageing mother, where no words are needed — just his presence, now everything came to women unfiltered, untethered, nothing holding back, nothing soothing it down, a neat whiskey without water.

The other gender got a jibe at the creation, the care they thought was possessiveness, they felt it was the duty so to be done but in reality they were connections. And with the men gone, the world was no longer a home, just an efficient, well greased but a ticking time machine which was fading. I read once where it was so beautifully creative that the garden needs to be filled with multiple flower's, flowers of colors, smell, sizes, but a garden with one theme of same flower becomes boring, becomes unsmoothing, not natural, its garden because it has a variety, some are good, some are beautiful, some are just ordinary but their presence is important, the plugs in the walls.

It was never about women could do it all. There had been never any doubt that any other gender was lesser than the other, all were given the limbs and eyes that other had, the same gray matter that thought few thought's milder or stronger than the other, like the different flowers in the garden, But, the question was yet to be answered and still remain's unanswered, should they have to? Should either of the gender be survivable if the alternate was obliterated? Was that ever the point of humanity — to see who could replace whom?

The higher power, the 'param atma' as the Indian mythology denotes the almighty, had only granted the wish to show one thing, not that one gender is stronger than the other, but that life itself was designed to be shared. The creation was already thought for, the misfit is designed to be fit, Men and women — different, flawed, misunderstood at times — but together, they carried humanity forward, the interlocked into each other like a key to its only lock. It was the heart for the love. It was the creation of the creator to be in continuation in his image, his strength.

While the time flew past, the grass grew and got cut, the rains and droughts came and went by but all these while the truth that burned hardest was: Men had been here all along, in the shadow's manier times fighting battles no one saw, no one heard about, the ones that they left at the doorstep before entering their home, the mood that immediately snapped to something more reliable to save the sanctity of the place he was going to be for the next few hours before he began the wrestle again, breaking inside but smiling outside, carrying those transparent burdens on his shoulder's that only shrugged quietly so others wouldn’t have to. Their struggles were invisible, and in their silence, many assumed they were unnecessary, deal able. But very few knew even within the circle of the males that everyday they were seating at table where the dealer was always new, when the cards were dealt with no certainty of his win each time but promised it bruised his ego to make him humble and smile.

Silence is never absence. Mind that well, absence often comes and screams louder than anything else once it start's getting noticed, its like seating in the world's quietest room and slowly and gradually your ear's start picking up sound's that was never heard before, scaring with the new unknown even though those sounds were always there - omnipresent. And same were the men!

So, the question is not whether the world could survive without men. Clearly, it could not. The question is: Why did we ever believe they didn’t matter enough while they were still here? while they still are?

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Do let me know in the comments, your views, I would love to gain a new insight, this was my fictional tete-e-tete with you all.

(Image is AI generated with help of Gemini)

The 'True' North

You are lucky if you come back to warm home, a lady waiting for you with a hot meal on the table while the kid's creating a ruckus who get's to hug you first and amidst all this blessing you stumble with loved filled feet, dropping the day's heaviness of your shoulder and give into their arm's at the doorstep as if you have surrendered but yet victorious.

You got a chance to be Maximus Meridius for another day but to return to a breathing family, nothing to be filled by vengeance but be felt loved and wanted, while they see you with a hope, relaxation a husband, a father has returned and if you are the luckiest one then you even get to return back home as a son to your  ageing parents.

Such a beautiful picture a brain imagines while we read onto certain word's, filled in the gaps, the void's we feel within ourselves. For all the joy's we share and all the time we spared for the loved one's is the only currency we will ever earn I guess & probably the only asset we will leave behind, for the materialistic will be gained and perished before time but these memories, these feeling of just being there, the void in absence, the beautiful foliage we fill the gaps amongst us is what will outlive us. 

You are probably reading this on the first or last train to or from your home to wherever you want to be, probably you are having that quick meal before its time to jump back to the desk, probably you are standing on the ledge and given up, probably you are just basking it all in - one blog at a time, no matter, I say put everything on hold for few minutes, take a pause, look above, look beside, take a 360 of your surrounding, zoom out from the chaos thats probably around and within you and you will notice that no one care's but you & that matter's, being there in the moment matter's. Probably you will remember why you started at all? - Let me answer to it, to get back to the beautiful picture that your brain imagined in the beginning.

What an irony life has always been, we venture into the abyss only to return home to find it, its the same story where ever you go, traveler's come home to feel the ultimate peace, job goer's come back home to feel the calm before the storm next day, go-getter's come back home to have a break and be themselves, the soldier comes home to find what he has been protecting all this time, we all come back home to become us, shedding the armor at the gates and be the child we grew up knowing, ourselves. We return home to be us.

Sometimes it becomes chaos, what doesn't. the streets are empty at night to be pounded the next busy hour, the jungle calms down from the day's roar and hunts, the sky goes dark from the day's shine bright, everything cool's down, as if everyone, everything needs a break, a pause. So do you! So do we all...

It's such an irony yet beautiful that we start from home to fight the cunning, win and lose each day, just so we have something return back too everyday, feel secure and achieved. Well, that's the only thing ever there is. We often chase big milestones — promotions, possessions, titles, and trophies to let it hang on the wall and gather dust while our heads bow down to the never ending thoughts, works and worry of the world, to just leave behind something better when the time comes — only to realize that the real prize was waiting for us at the doorway all along. That warm glance, that familiar smell from the kitchen, the laughter that echoes louder than any applause you will ever recieve amongst the unknown faces you will for sure not be able to remember few years down the line, yes! that's true if its not now, give it time and it will seep into your reality.

But what happens when home isn’t perfect? When silence replaces noise, when absence replaces presence? Even then, the idea of home never leaves us. It becomes a compass, the true north of our adventures — guiding us through the world, through the fog of war, the war that erupts amongst and within us, only reminding us of where we belong, even if we’re still searching, still lost.

Home doesn’t always have four walls. Sometimes it’s a person, sometimes a memory, sometimes a state of mind. For some, it’s the call of their mother just while the start or end their day. For others, it’s the wag of a dog’s tail. For a traveler like me, it’s seeing the gates of my house from far while I enter my street, while the smell of chai brewing within me after a long ride. And for someone else, it might just be a quiet corner where they can finally breathe. finally be weightless.

The truth is — we don’t fight our battles for money, medals, or monumental achievement's I think We fight them just to earn the right to come back, to return, to belong, to lift our own weight and atleast once at the end be able to see eye to eye with your wife, kids, parents, most importantly the next morning in the mirror. That is the cycle of our lives: venture into the chaos, and then retreat into love.

So, if you’re reading this while standing on a crowded street while the city bustles past you, or lost in your own thoughts at midnight, pause for a moment. Ask yourself: What does home mean to me? Where do I return when the world strips me bare? where would I be if not home? Where's that if not already?

If you find the answer, hold onto it. Protect it. Nurture it. Because in the end, everything else is noise.

I remember having a small talk with my neighbour, his hair was now made of silver and the weight he carried all this time has already made him humble and bow down naturally and he randomly said to me "What a fine weather today", I rustled through my bag while searching for the wallet I always tend to forget and said "Yes indeed, less hot comparatively". He said "haha! Yeah, I would had wished to go for a long drive with my wife, if only i was able to drive again and she been beside me." he smirked yet content. And I was taken aback, few second's just went by putting me in a deep thought through out the day while, I for the very rare of moments, felt that man's loneliness, his wish to drive again and the void his wife has left naturally where he cannot do anything about it yet he has made content with it, he had too I guess, and he still find's the energy to go for a walk alone, gather up words to speak with a young man like me, probably make him feel the way he felt few years ago, I wanted to go back to him and ask him for what he misses but I assumed he has given all he could have, worked all his able days into what he has today from a coming home to look into the eye to now probably look at the beautiful picture's his life had given chance to freeze time in and a wish he could do it all again much better this time.

Home — however you define it — is the only truth worth coming back to. 

Return to your true north.

- Nirmal.

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(Image is AI Generated)

#truenorth #home #reflections #life #travelthoughts #storytelling

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Comment your view's on what do you feel about your true north? what get's you going yet long you to come back home.

Dear Jane: A Letter Too Late

There is a dimension we don’t yet understand properly, but it is omnipresent, running parallel to our timeline. We forget it exists, but it intersects with us only at the right time.

— Nirmal Shah.

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From pins to pens, dates to events — we forget a million things. We do this to make space for new memories, ones our brain considers more important to keep. Like RAM in a computer, our brain clears the cache. To register new entries, it randomly decides which old ones to let go of, until someone or something jogs them back into our light.

Studies even say people who frequently forget things often have faster, more intelligent brains — their gray matter is wired differently, more competitive, hyperactive, and selective about what’s worth keeping.

But being forgetful isn’t always a sign of genius. It could also signal the early stages of Alzheimer’s — touch wood. The truth is, all of us knowingly or unknowingly let go of memories daily, making space for just enough checklists to function. Yet, those forgotten things don’t vanish. They stay, omnipresent, in a dimension we feel but cannot explain.

And there is one thing, beyond all the material objects in the world, that is both widely used and often forgotten — letters.

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Ray

Ray was writing a letter one day, pouring his emotions onto paper. He had been through some of the toughest times of his life and longed for a warm hug from his wife, who at that moment was far away. The letter he was about to stamp and send would take days to reach her — and he feared it might already be too late.

Still, Ray picked up his pen and burned his feelings into the page until he felt empty, as if his soul had bled through the ink. He wrote so deeply that his words left imprints on the next sheet of paper. His wish was that Jane, his wife, would pick up where his words left off. He always felt Jane knew him so well they could complete each other’s sentences without speaking.

By the time Ray finished, the paper felt heavier than it was — weighed down by emotion. He sealed it neatly inside an envelope, as if tucking a newborn in a warm towel. On the front, in his careful handwriting, it read: “To Dear Jane.”

The postmaster knew Ray well. He was familiar with the white envelopes Ray often dropped off, always carrying the weight of his heart. Each time, Ray left reassured by the postmaster’s silent nod — his unspoken promise that the letter would be on its way.

That September morning, heavy rain poured as Ray handed over the envelope. He had carried it inside a zip-lock bag to protect it from the downpour — terrified that if even one drop blurred the ink, his feelings would be lost forever. But destiny had other plans.

The letter was tossed into a pile among hundreds of others — bills, summons, declarations, apologies, love notes. It sat there until it was sorted by dozens of fast, machine-like hands. But one small error changed everything: a wrong barcode sticker sent Ray’s letter to the wrong center.

And just like that, his words vanished.

Ray never knew. Weeks later, drowning in grief and unanswered questions, he pulled the trigger on himself. His memories, his pain, his love for Jane — splattered across the wedding photo he couldn’t bear to look at anymore.

No one could measure the weight of his letter. Twenty-five grams on a scale, but immeasurable in its emotional gravity.

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        Jane

Jane, too, had written a letter around the same time. Hers was returned to her unopened, by the time she had to vacate the home she couldn’t live in without Ray.

Her letter read:

“Loving Ray,

I know you have been hurting, and so have I. But it is more important that, despite our disagreements, we agree on one thing — we love each other. It is more important that we forgive than allow this hurt to win. I forgive you, Ray, and I long to be with you again. I will wind up my things here shortly and return home. I’m sorry for the pain we caused each other.

Forever yours,
Jane”

But Ray never got a chance to read it. His grief and disappointment won.

Often, anger’s first victim is the person holding it. Ray couldn’t forgive himself or Jane in time — and that cost him everything.

Osho once said: “Where there is no control on the start, and no control on the end, why do we believe there is control in the middle? Flow like the river. Life begins when we let go.”

Ray couldn’t let go. His pain was unbearable, too consuming. And like so many before him, he was swept away by it.

Influenced by Socrates, A Greek writer Euripides once wrote: “And why should we feel anger at the world? As if the world would notice?”

Why do we cling so hard to being right? 

Why must we always be understood? 

Why do we forget the simplest truth — that we are mortal?

Accept it, being 'wrong' is human. It is the birthplace of discovery, growth, and learning. Without mistakes, we would still be in the stone age, playing with sticks and stones, we wouldnt have able to reach the moon and back, nor be able to click pictures of deep oceanic creatures we still have yet to explore, nor find the herbal medicines to our ever dying bodies in hope to prolong our lives for even a second more to be here, Yet even after centuries of evolution, we still cannot embrace the right to be wrong. 

Perhaps it will take another ice age before we finally evolve enough to understand.

If you are hurting, or have been hurt, remember this: learn to forgive quickly. Forgive immediately. Life is too short to waste on being angry at the ones we love. Because at the end, the only thing we carry forward — and the only thing we leave behind — is love.

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(Image is AI Generated)

7 Curug Bibijilan Waterfalls – Hidden Gem in Sukabumi

The Phone Call.

The transit to Indonesia began with a phone call from my maternal family. Normally, these calls are uneventful—filled with joy, laughter, and the latest stories of weekend escapes. But this time, it was different. Mom picked up the call and went completely pale, as if a black hole had sucked her soul into the abyss. Dad’s trembling footsteps toward his sobbing wife only confirmed it wasn’t good news.

We weren’t completely unaware of the situation, but this call was different. My Nani had begun to lose her battle with cancer. Like the brave Rajwadi kings of Rajasthan, who were said to fight even after being decapitated, she was still holding on with a warrior’s spirit.

What a way to start the journey. It was supposed to be filled with sorrow, grief, and worry. Yet there’s something so positive about my family in Indonesia. They don’t seem to worry too much about what life throws at them. In all my 30 years of visiting, I’ve never seen their eyebrows furrow.

Met with an accident? “Cool, we’re alive. We’ll fix the car.”
Missed a rest stop on the highway? “Cool, pour hot water from the thermos, eat instant noodles, sing karaoke.”
Don’t feel like working? “Cool, let’s close shop and camp by the beach.”

That subtle art of not worrying is the magic of life I learned from them this time. In India, a call like this would bring a rush of bad feelings, frantic thoughts, and plans for last meetings before emotions could even settle. In Indonesia, they carry it differently.

2 Hill's Away

We were in the storm. We decided to deal with the storm. And then, in the middle of it all, my uncle and cousin suggested a change—a trip to the waterfalls hidden in the mountains, protected by tall pine trees. Waterfalls so fierce you could hear them over rustling leaves and jungle birds, yet melodic enough to calm your soul. To break that melody, we would take our dirt bikes, scraping the tarmac under the wide blue sky.

The next morning, we were up at 5 am, pumped and ready. By 6 am, the city was already buzzing after morning prayers. I packed my action camera, one power bank, a little cash, and off we went on our bikes.

Two hills away—that’s how destinations are measured in my mom’s village. Not by postal codes. A 30 km ride, about 2 hours on motorcycles. Scenic not only for the landscapes but also for the people. No one’s in a rush. They drive slowly, listen to Dangdut folk songs, shift gears with one hand while puffing their favorite cigarettes with the other. Amidst the smoky fog, even I felt relaxed.

Around sunrise, our stomachs growled as we stopped to admire a clear view of Mount Gede and Mount Pangrango, both usually shy behind clouds. I flew my drone for the first time, capturing their majesty in 4K. As the drone climbed, all three of our stomachs growled together like a trending “grrrr” meme. Hunger hit us hard.

Nearby was a resort, but we didn’t want to break the adventure’s tempo. Instead, we stumbled upon Amador Ranch—a horse ranch. I’d never seen proper stallion-grade horses in my mom’s village. Ponies, sure, but not this. That’s why I love roaming: to find experiences no book or YouTube video can replicate.

Amador Ranch sat on a high hill, overlooking the valley we had just climbed. From its bamboo suspension bridge viewpoint, I launched the drone again, capturing panoramic memoirs against the backdrop of the two glorious mountains, flaunting themselves like peacocks in monsoon.

The sun lit the dewy grass while clouds played hide and seek with the valley below. Breakfast was black coffee and cheeseburgers with potato fries. Hungry or not, the food was genuinely good. And cheap too—what cost us 3 burger's with coffee there would barely cover a sandwich back in India.

Hidden Among The Pine Trees

By now, the mountains hid behind clouds again, and we were eager to move. A steep downhill through a small village brought us closer. Fishermen, grocers, and fishing lot owners waved as we passed. Soon, we heard the thunder of water crashing—Curug Bibijilan.

At the first gate, locals sat smoking cigarettes and snacking on tahu, asking for a small entrance fee. My uncle paid, shaking hands with the elder, while my brother and I rushed ahead, too excited to care. We parked the bikes near towering pine trees, passing school kids and even spotting a rusty yet stylish custom chopper.

The forest dipped suddenly, almost like a crack in the mountain, split by the mighty Curug Bibijilan. A welcome board confirmed it. Mist from the falls coated my glasses and hair. The rocks were slippery, and both my brother and I regretted wearing the wrong shoes. Still, we made it to the base of the fourth waterfall, where we spent the rest of the day.

A bamboo-and-wood bridge crossed a calmer part of the falls, decorated with moss and dripping water—like something out of Jumanji. The roar of the waterfall filled the air, mixing with the laughter of children swimming in the pool below. My uncle jumped in first, then me, then my brother.

I was scared of the rocks, and the rush of water was so strong it kept pushing me back. Hesitantly, I dipped my left foot first into the icy pool while the others were already sitting under the falls above, claiming a spot for us. Slowly, I pushed forward through the current, mounted my camera on the chest harness, hoping it captured the POV of what I was daring to experience for the very first time.

From a distance, my uncle saw me struggling. Probably I took the wrong approach because he yelled, “Keep coming straight, you’re all right!” and reached his hand out like he was saving a man on a ledge. Step after step, I gasped, swallowed gulps of mineral-rich water, but finally, I reached his hand. He pulled me up. Boy, it was fun though—never felt so refreshed and energized before.

We sat there for an hour or so, clicking pictures with occasional silence in between, as if everyone needed to shut up and bask in the chaos of the waterfall crashing behind us. We didn’t speak for another 30 minutes, just exchanged smiles and smirks while combing our wet hair with our hands, sinking into the moss-green stones nature had lent us for the time being.

I felt like I was in zen, within myself. Very rarely am I left thoughtless—no murmurs of my brain, no voices debating right or wrong. In that moment, I was weightless, free. I’d drive or travel any distance to feel that again.

Later, we dragged our tired bones and glittering skin back up the hill, our legs trembling as if we’d done leg day at the gym. Famished, we ran to a small shack for a cup of black coffee and instant noodles. Sitting on a bamboo bench, slurping hot noodles and warming our hands on steaming coffee, I suddenly remembered a scene from Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. After his ocean dive, one protagonist cries—not out of fear, but from pure bliss. That’s exactly how I felt in that moment.

Sometimes we complicate life so much with self-imposed goals that we forget why we’re here in the first place. I’ve noticed it in the rains especially. Kids, weighed down by heavy backpacks, still laugh and splash under the rain, umbrella closed. And then there’s us—running for the nearest shed, hiding from the very thing we once loved.

So I’ll leave you with a question today. Are you the one who still enjoys the rain, no matter what? Or are you the one who now runs for shelter? Think about it.

That’s all from Curug Bibijilan Waterfall—a natural wonder that might not be on the world map, but will always be pinned to the wall of my memory.

Roadster out!

Check out the video here: Curug Bibijilan Waterfall, Sukabumi, Indonesia.