Raneh Falls is a dangerous area with it’s sharp drops, volcanic rocks and gushing water. Many adventurous ones have died during their dare devilry.
The govt has now mandated that every group has to be escorted by a guide. Raveesh was our guide. We were there for an hour. An hour spent looking at the water and talking with Raveesh.
We talked about the UP leasing the dam and diverting all the water that the locals could have used; about the difficulty of terrain and low possibility of finding jobs.
Raveesh was so much confined in his own geography that he saw the people of Khajuraho, mere thirty minutes away, as people of guile. He blamed them for chasing the tourists away by overcharging them for everything.
We talked about the floods. He said the point, atleast a hundred feet above the gushing water, was drowned in 2016 floods. I didn’t believe him until he pulled out a video.
We talked about Covid. He said the first wave was not even registered in the remote village. But the second wave killed many. Still no one feared Covid. They only feared the police cane and stayed in. Raveesh has been to Jaipur and Vaishnodevi.
He wanted to see tall buildings of Delhi. We told him we loved the forests. He said people like to see that they don’t get to see. Tonight, we are back in the jungle that he wanted to see.
Tonight, he is in the jungle that he never left. I wish we had exchanged numbers. I could video call him and show him buildings. He could show me Raneh falls and the jungle. Raveesh and me could live vicariously through each other. My romanticism and his reality could have seeped into each other. We would have been bound by more than just my indulgent post.
