Jabalpur is not exactly at the centre of Madhya Pradesh, it has a slight bias towards the east. Of course the state is big, even the secession of Chattisgarh hasn’t made much of a dent to its ego. If one were to travel from Neemuch on the western parts to Waidhan on the eastern, one would have taken almost the same time to traverse as a human who has made a quick trip to the USA and back. Thankfully I haven’t made any such tour, neither do I intend to. After all, communications is bad, the roads are not always up to it and the trains that pass through are few and far between.

Among the few cities and towns that don the landscape, Jabalpur is among the older ones, with a population of approximately 12 lakhs. Like any urban area situated on the banks of a mighty river, this too is steeped in traditional activities, be it the medium scale business establishments which cater to the basic and comfort needs of the populace or the government babus who don’t ever bother to move out of their wonted pursuits (or the lack of them) to perform something enterprising.

To someone (me) who now resides in a slightly bigger city that aspires to be recognised as a metropolis, Jabalpur presents a picture of a laid back sleepy town. The jingle in temples as the evening approaches, the multitude of two wheelers that creep at various speeds, the crowds at the pani-puri and paan kiosks, the lazy cows at the road intersections, the some-lit and some-badly-lit neon signs……

But then a sleepy town provides a rare sense of camaraderie, a sense of belongingness, a sense of nostalgia. Sometimes the mind asks for a break from the incessant horns, the mind boggling traffic and the opulent malls. Sometimes the ears seek silence. Sometimes the nose requests air of the non-polluting kind. Sometimes the eyes want to witness something natural and lovely.

The colossal Narmada flows some distance from the town. And that is where the beauty of the place lies! Two exquisite spots that make the soul go gaga. Two locations not far off from each other that offer splendour of entirely different kinds. Two locales that make the trip to this enchanting town worth it!

Dhuandhar

As the name suggests, this place is one of smoke (dhuan) as well as the cascade (dhar), a blessed combination made possible by the wondrous Narmada. With an origin at Amarkantak, some two hundred kilometres away and then a meander through the hills and hillocks of eastern Madhya Pradesh, the river gains enough magnificence and strength by the time it reaches the outskirts of Jabalpur to present some pretty natural sights.

You may also be interested in this deeper view:

The strangely robust topography of the area has made even the likes of Narmada bow. As the river hustles and bustles through the terrain, it is made to pass through a narrow canyon which evokes a loud protest through a hiss and groan. The fascinating view coupled with the fabulous roar makes me want to clap in glee.

Mind you, this is no Jog or Chitrakote in terms of sheer height or span, but the pleasance is unrivalled.

The smoky effect evolves from the mist that refuses to forsake. As I board the kilometre-or-so long ropeway that has been a recent addition, I gain a bird’s eye view of the scenery. The cabin weaves its way through the sky, holding on to the cable for dear support, and I am offered a unique opportunity to click away at the burgeoning beauty.

The place is marble country. Artefacts of all sizes and prices are displayed, instilling in me the greed to buy one. The only reason I don’t, in spite of the small boy adamant in selling me a group of four elephants, is my wariness at the relative paucity of space in the drawing room of my house in Indore that claims to be one.

Dil mein jagah honee chahiye! 

Bhedaghat Marble Rocks

From Dhuandhar, we push off to Bhedaghat. It isn’t far and takes the vehicle just ten minutes. Evening has set in, and we rush to avoid the after-dusk effect. Bhedaghat is also on the Narmada, offering a gateway to admire the scintillating marble rocks on the river. The serenity of the place enthrals, the river is anything but the turbulent sort we had witnessed earlier. The calmness is breathtaking.

The boat provides a one-hour ride. It glides through the silent water, the oars making the only sounds apart from a few birds in a taciturn country. The place is haunting; hauntingly beautiful, I may add. Huge marble rocks tower over the river – rocks that have stood the test of time, but are badly bruised by the effort. They are really big and they also provide a home for many. One such person is on our boat and the moment his ‘house’ approaches, he leaps to the rocks and makes his way to the top before I can comprehend what is happening. I click just before he disappears.

I find another photogenic environ. The click goes again.

The rocks continue to enthral me. So does the serene water.  Vast reaches of the river that flows quietly through. The river is deep; at one point of our seamless endeavour the guide indicates that the depth is 350 pt. I haven’t much of an inclination in checking the veracity of the claim but am rather left astounded at this fact. It somehow seems that there is a big body of water in deep marble valley and I am on it. This feeling leaves me in a state of magic trance.

While gliding through, I notice a strange sight. Two white ghostly images appear to move on one of the rocks. I click, not very sure whether my Canon will live up to it, but it does. The photograph is pasted below – could anyone make a guess?

The rocks are varied; some are blue, some pink, white and black. All are incised – the effects of a million years of air, water and other natural elements. The incisions and strange rock formations present a business opportunity to the guide who babbles way. He vainly tries to sell a black rock high up at one cliff as a Maruti after an accident. But then who wants a badly twisted Maruti!

Nothing on world can be better, at this moment! 

The earth seems one big endless pool of water.

By the time I alight, dusk is in with all its glory. The  evening aarti is on. The sight mesmerises me. 

The guide had been at it since the word-go, but one sentence of his etches my mind. Just before disembarking, we hear a stifled roar at a distance.

“That’s nothing” he says when enquired about it. “Water is falling at just five feet, hence the noise. In this area there are depths of even a thousand feet, the water is absolutely quiet. Water makes the most noise when it is the shallowest. The same goes for man.”

Wise words indeed!

The trip is short, and sweet too. When I return to the hotel, I am confident of a warm bath awaiting me at Narmada Jackson. Yes, a strange name, that too of a hotel – a quintessential mix of natural and exquisite, of the modern and of heritage, of the orient and the occident. As I lumber in, a couple of whites in whites catch my eye. They too had been to the two settings, had enjoyed it thoroughly and were leaving in the morning for Kanha.

That’s life!!