Chapora Fort

I've been writing quite a bit of freelance these days, and one of my articles, apparently, was not written in the correct format. But i loved it so much, i decided to launch it here! So here you go, fellas, a treat for your senses:

Chapora Fort is popularly known as the Dil Chahta Hai Fort. The first time I heard this, I was in college, and my gang of friends was planning an all-nighter at the fort to catch the sunrise. I was not in the mood to lose a night’s sleep over some silly Bollywood movie, but when the offer was topped with dinner and dessert, I found myself signing up for the ride.

There were five of us on the trip, and we reached the fort at three in the morning. This was in the chilly winter months, and the air was freezing. My friends couldn’t stop talking about the movie and the shooting through the ride, and by the time we parked, I was cranky and sleepy. Being the only Goan amongst the five didn’t help matters.

But as we got out of the car, my first glimpse of the fort showed a stunning dark structure. There were few streetlamps here; it was too high, and too off the road. A starry sky greeted us, bathing the road in pearly light. All talk of the movie hushed, as we gazed at the structure up ahead of us.

It was too dark to climb, so we sat on the road, trading stories, as we waited for dawn to arrive. Lucky for me, I had quite a few on the history of the fort, and the battles fought at the top.

The place, I told them, had been first a Muslim structure of some kind, demolished by the Portuguese when they built the red-laterite stone fort. In the 1600s, it was conquered by Emperor Akbar when he was a Prince. The valiant prince gave up enmity with his old rivals, the Marathas, when they together attempted to oust the Portuguese from Goa. Sadly, the Portuguese recovered from that encounter, and even managed to strengthen their northern defences.

This was a new fort, I continued, waving my hand at the majestic structure, built in 1717. Even then, a Maharaja from Sawantwadi conquered the fort, holding it for two years! But later, as the Portuguese moved on to newer conquests within Goa, the fort stopped playing a role militarily, though its aura remained grand even today.

Dawn crept in, in lilac and pink hues, and we prepared ourselves to climb the fort.

There was no cut path to the top. It was a rocky, slippery slope, with tiny rocks as footholds here and there. It was barren land too, no trees or brush or saplings. The cool morning air felt invigorating, but I couldn’t imagine coming here in the peak of the summer months, where the exposed rock would turn scalding hot to the touch.

Finally, after a couple of slips, a tumble to the ground, and many scrapes later, we reached the caving in the wall which allowed for entering the fort.

It was a beautiful sight. The land was open, rocky, and sun-bleached grass grew on the ground in thick tufts everywhere. The five of us set out to explore in five different directions. The path I chose had dark splotches dotting the rock every few steps, and I wondered if these were canon blast shots from the times gone by.

A shout from my friend drew me further North, and I found her standing excitedly at a canon gun. It was a beautiful structure, made of old iron, facing the sea. We gathered around it excitedly, and the boys flexed their thin muscles as they posed for photos before it.

Further North, the path led to a valley, as the fort tapered off to the sea. A sleepy village lay nestled by the crook of the fort, and nearly a mile out, the wall ended in a sharp edge by the sea.

The sky had lit up in hues of orange and pink by now, and we sat on a low wall to admire the quiet surrounds. I could almost imagine the Kings from our glorious past striding across the grassy expanse, brandishing their swords, shouting commands.

As the first of the sun rose into the sky, we abandoned the low wall and ran for the Eastern parts of the fort, overlooking Bardez. The sun creeped higher and higher, and we snapped photo after photo. It was nearly nine in the morning when we tired enough to make our way back down.

The path was as tedious as it had been going up; worse, because a slip meant a direct slide to the bottom! But stumbling and clutching at each other, we managed to reach the car. A small family with a toddler were just arriving as the car was placed into gear. I wondered at how they would manage their way up.

The fort loomed over us as the car drove off, and I turned for a last glimpse. It was a beautiful fort. It was a grand fort.

It was a fort fit for the Kings, who had once conquered it, and fought bravely to gain independence for our Goa.