Everyone remembers 300. It was a raging success and though the editor claimed not to have seen it everybody else in the office has watched it. But here’s the thing. The movie should have bombed at the box office. A movie with no exceptionally big stars, historic in nature, and R rated? That’s hardly a recipe for success, is it? But what happened was the stark opposite. It went on to collect 70 million dollars at the opening and turned out to be one of the biggest films of 2007. Hey, good for them.
But here, let’s focus on the plot of the film instead, where three hundred soldiers took on a gargantuan army of fighters. Their story is the entire point of the movie. What if I told you a battle, very similar to the plot, occurred right here, in India, tucked away within the hinterlands of Maharashtra? Shocking, but expected of us. We are oblivious like that. Marvelling at antics from where the sun sets, but not having a clue what went down in our own backyard. Shame, really.
“One of the great lieutenants of Shivaji’s era, Baji Prabhu Deshpande, sacrificed his life defending the king in a heroic last stand in which his forces were vastly outnumbered, 300 men against 10,000 enemies”
But anyway coming back to the present, we decided that this would be a perfect location to take our Kwid because nestled away was a tale poets sang for centuries, but no one heard. The Battle of Pavan Khind, where an audacious and high-risk plan was hatched and put into action. One of the great lieutenants of Shivaji’s era, Baji Prabhu Deshpande, sacrificed his life defending Shivaji in a heroic last stand in which his forces were vastly outnumbered. 300 men against 10,000 enemies. In the battle he lost his life, but managed to hold back the enemy for more than 18 hours, which secured Shivaji’s safety and victory on another front. To put into perspective, without this heroic last stand the great career of Shivaji may well have been cut short by 20 years.
Okay so, school bells have rung, history lesson is finally over. And with that, another episode of Kwid goes Countryside has begun. Now my colleagues have already taken you to unexplored parts of Goa, Lonar Crater, and the town with no doors Shani Shignapur. This time around we decided to drive down our longtermer to Panhala Fort, burrowed away some 20-odd kilometres northwest of Kolhapur.
“This time around we decided to drive down our longtermer to Panhala Fort, burrowed away some 20-odd kilometres northwest of Kolhapur”
The journey from Pune is well over 250 kilometres and we planned the trip accordingly. We’d drive down to Kolhapur, spend the night there, and at the break of dawn visit the fort and the areas encompassing it.
The drive began post a hectic morning, which meant I was already halfway to exhaustion. Now I’ve had no previous affair with the Kwid and I had no clue what to expect. I always felt the Kwid was quite a handsome car in its segment and you certainly notice quite a few Kwids when you’re in the city. That unknowingly left an impression in my head. ‘The Kwid is a city car’ is what I subconsciously started to think. That was the case until I joined evo India and I saw what kooky stuff the guys here were up to with the Kwid. I read articles calling the car ‘our designated countryside explorer’ and thought to myself that sounds more fitting for a full-size SUV, not a city hatch. Finally, firm with my beliefs yet slightly confused about what I previously read, I set upon my journey in this tiny car.
However, something did worry me. With its 1-litre three-pot motor, the Kwid churns out 67bhp. There were four of us on-board, each with a considerable amount of luggage stuffed in the boot. And with my aforementioned beliefs about the Kwid, I was worried it might lose its breath on the highway. As we merged onto NH 48, those doubts were cleared in a jiffy with a quick glance at the speedometer. Triple-digit speeds? Not a problem. The smooth and well maintained roads of NH 48 ensured that the Kwid glided through without a hiccup. Overtakes too were fairly effortless, with the Kwid showing more enthusiasm as and when we drove spiritedly. There were a few close calls along the highway, which is quite a normal affair in India. And the braking department did an admirable job.
“Triple-digit speeds? Not a problem. The smooth and well maintained roads of NH 48 ensured that the Kwid glided through without a hiccup”
We drove for around 200km on the highway, before taking the exit to Kolhapur. It was quite a transition, from the smooth and fast flowing highway to the hustle and bustle of an unknown city. I’d never been here, but it was certainly not how I imagined the city. There was this image of a laidback village where everyone shuts shop at 5pm. And yet again, I was wrong. Lot of my assumptions being broken then, eh? Till now, it’s been for the good. So I’m not complaining. We finally reached our hotel in the evening and called it an early night.
Waking up before the break of dawn was necessary as Gaurav did not want to miss the ‘golden hour’, a period shortly after sunrise or before sunset during which daylight is redder and softer than when the Sun is higher in the sky. That meant thanking the hotel staff, picking up our luggage, cranking up the Kwid, and rushing to Panhala Fort. It was the middle of March, marking the beginning of summer. But the roads leading to the fort had something else to say. The scene was set to ‘Eerie and Mysterious’ with dense fog blanketing entire sections of the roads. After a quick photo session, we were on our way. The way up the fort is just beautiful. There’s no other way to describe it. Smooth roads, occasional tree tunnels, and pleasant weather, this is one route that just cannot be given a miss.
“The scene on the way to Panhala was set to ‘Eerie and Mysterious’ with dense fog blanketing entire sections of the roads”
The entrance to the fort sees a toll booth, where the super friendly locals are more than happy to help direct you to the best spots. Soaking in the history of this place, we then trudged along a dirt track to explore some more. I could then see what the guys over at the office were talking about the Kwid. Even on dry dirt, the car seemed sure footed. We went on to two more beautiful locations within the vicinity of the fort and something about the architecture just draws you. It’s the kind that you know is going to stay forever. And that is rare in today’s age, where every two years structures need to undergo renovations.
“Every villager we spoke to, every one of them directed us to this ‘table-top’ piece of land near the fort. For the sake of adventure a unanimous decision was made”
Every villager we spoke to, every one of them directed us to this ‘table-top’ piece of land near the fort. For the sake of adventure a unanimous decision was made. We’d go to this table-top, after which we’d head on home. And boy am I glad we did that because this turned out to be the most enjoyable part of my drive. A lackadaisical village road soon turned into a mini hill climb with tight corners and zero traffic. The 91Nm of torque churned out by the Kwid was a delight here and the reassuring chassis made sure I didn’t worry much (especially with three more people and luggage inside). The tyres squealed for mercy, yet did not give up.
Lucky for them, the hill finally came to an end. We had to endure a small stretch of really bad road before we could get to the table-top. The high ground clearance of the Kwid saved us from hitting rocks on its belly. The patch finally came to an end and we arrived at what was one of the most scenic spots I’d ever seen. Miles of flat land, overlooking the fort and neighbouring villages. All I wanted to do here was go full throttle around the flat-top, but logic eventually got the better of me.
With the car parked at the literal edge of a sloping cliff, Gaurav went about his clickety business, and I had time to sit and ponder about all my beliefs that were recently broken by this tiny city hatch. Oh wait, can’t call it a ‘city’ hatch anymore now, can I? Especially when the only element between certain death and staying alive was the engaged handbrake in the car. Highways, check. Hills, check. Soft-roading, check. Man, I’d probably have to start with the things this car can’t do.
“The only element between certain death and staying alive was the engaged handbrake in the car”
And that thought soon wandered into the mysteries tucked tightly away within these hinterlands. Case in point, the Battle of Pavan Khind which took place here a few centuries ago. Who’dathunk we’d have our own version of 300? It’s really amazing how a 500-foot potential drop makes sure all cylinders in your head start firing in the perfect order.