The Salted Days - Day 6

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The Salted Days – Day Six

Kareli to Amod  | 8 January 2026

Yesterday, after a shorter walk and river crossing, restlessness had quietly crept into the group. So, in the evening, Suchindra led us through a stretching session. Muscles creaked, faces contorted, and laughter filled the room. It was both therapeutic and humbling. At 7:45 pm, a deeply comforting dinner followed — super-hot dal khichdi, kadhi, and papad, cooked at home by the Yatri Niwas in-charge’s wife. Our stomachs made happy noises. Some small talk later, I was in bed by 10:15 pm.

I woke up before the alarm today to the gentle cadence of Vishnu Sahasranamam playing in the neighbouring room. It set a calm, grounded tone. As I got ready, I played bhajans softly. A short puja followed, and then hot Maggi — simple, warm, and oddly perfect.

We had nearly an hour of walking before the sun climbed above the mist. Watching that slow unveiling each morning has become one of the quiet privileges of this journey. Life starts early. A chimney stack of a brick kiln was already spewing smoke perpendicular to itself, indicating the direction of the early morning wind. Labourers were busy stacking heavy bricks while wondering what senior citizens like us were doing, walking in a dusty path in a back of beyond place. 

We crossed Piludara village, overshot our turn by about 500 metres, retraced our steps, and then slipped off the main road onto a concrete single lane toward Vedach. The walk was silent and gentle—1 hour 45 minutes covering about 8.5 km—before stopping at Vedach for a quick nutrition break.

I decided to observe moun for one and a half hours. It wasn’t easy. People thought I was upset when I didn’t respond, and I struggled not to speak even when addressed directly. When I finally broke the silence, it felt like a release. But the experience was deeply meditative—it sharpened observation and softened inner noise.

As we turned onto the State Highway toward Jambusar, the group grew quieter. The heat began to assert itself. Ceramic factories dotted the landscape, and I noticed how broken ceramic pieces were embedded into benches, turning waste into colourful mosaics.

Small gestures defined the day. Near a milestone marking 7 km to Jambusar, Girish Bhandari caught up with us and shared groundnuts and chana. When one of the other walkers lagged behind, the entire group made an unscheduled halt so he could catch up. Along the way, we also stopped to help villagers pull out a small tree they were struggling with—our quiet good deed for the day.

A hot cup of tea at Dabha village was restorative. At exactly 10:30 am, we turned toward Ankhi, escorted briefly by a local villager. Along the way, we passed schoolchildren, tractors, brick kilns, crowing roosters, and a farmer spraying fertiliser using an ingenious tractor-mounted contraption.

Beyond Dabha, the villager pointed us toward Vavli and Ankhi and bid us farewell. An uneven mud track followed, taking its toll on our shoes. We curved through Vavli village and reached Ankhi—a settlement of about 5,000 people. We stopped at the Yatri Niwas beside a lake and rested our feet.  Hot tea had been organized for us by the Yatri Niwas in charge. The school adjacent had gathered all the kids to welcome us so we chatted with schoolchildren, and left around 12:30 pm.

The next stretch, along a canal, was a gift. Tree shade was abundant, traffic minimal. Apart from a few motorcycles, we were on our own. A family of langoors scattered as we passed. Those four kilometres were perhaps the most pleasurable of the day.

We joined the highway at Magnad and stopped after three kilometres at Krishna Kathiawadi Dhaba for lunch. The spread was generous—sev tamatar, dahi raita, baingan, aloo, besan ka gatta, rotis, bajre ka rotla, murabba, and garlic pickle. We overate. Predictably, drowsiness followed.

At 3:10 pm, after a short power nap, we began the final leg toward Amod. We crossed the Vishwamitri River, traffic slowly increasing. As we curved into Amod village, every ache from the 36.5 km walk disappeared. 

Schoolchildren welcomed us with rose petals and two beautifully choreographed dances. Group photographs followed before we finally climbed—on tired legs—to our rooms.

Now, the cumulative fatigue of nearly 200 kilometres in six days is unmistakable. Yet, camaraderie is carrying us beyond limits we didn’t know we had.

Dinner—hot vegetable khichdi and kadhi—has become our dependable comfort. Later, I met two soft-skills trainers working with an NGO, conducting life-skills programs in schools across districts. Seeing such grassroots work was heartening.

By the end of Day 6, we have walked just under 200 kilometres. Tomorrow, we head toward Samni—22 kilometres away. A short walk by our standards now.

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