The Salted Days – Day Eleven
Umrachi to Bhatgam | 13 January 2026
Early risers stir everyone up. But there is a happy feeling when they get up—it means we have at least 45 minutes before our alarm rings, so one can snooze again. In addition, if one is allotted a room with an attached bath and toilet, it is a boon. There is a sense of ownership, an idea so opposed to the philosophy of detachment. But I am still not Adi Shankaracharya. I enjoy the comfort.
We greeted our oldest walker in a typically loud Army way on his birthday. A quick puja, a sweet banana, and warm bye-byes set us on our way.
Every extra step taken after walking a distance feels like a waste and a drag. Today, we had to do the dead mileage of 2.24 km, which we had already covered yesterday afternoon before turning off toward our destination at Vadoli junction.
Some clouds put up a decent fight against the sun as it rose to yet another beautiful day, but it was short-lived, as expected.
At Bhadol, we were met by NCC girl cadets—bright-eyed and eager-faced. They walked with us up to Kadarma, where an unscheduled short tea halt had been organised. We quickly shifted our breakfast halt here so that we wouldn’t need to stop again after another kilometre. Sev poha, kadhi, and another cup of tea rejuvenated us, and we set off for Rajnagar at 9 sharp.
Our walk was very slow this morning—perhaps because now we are walking much shorter distances than our recent averages. We crossed Kadarma, with village Aerthan on our left and village Sondamitha on the right, two villages that Gandhiji passed through 95 years ago. It feels good to have crossed paths with the great man time and again. Oh! I am so punny.
Suddenly, we realised that our destination, Bhatgam, was just 2 km away—and it was only 10 am. Being mentally flexible helped. We decided to go further ahead and cover a stretch that we would otherwise have walked tomorrow, thereby reducing the distance for the next day. So at Rajnagar, we left the road and headed toward Gola.
The village road was a pleasure to walk on. Like kings, we walked down the middle of the eight-foot-wide road, surveying fields stretching to the horizon as if they were our domain. We skirted Gola village and crossed Achharan in about 45 minutes. Walking on village roads is soothing—no ambient noise of rushing traffic, just the whisper of wind through sugarcane fields and the occasional screech of birds disturbed by our noisy group.
We took a well-deserved rest under the shade of a large tree, refilled our bottles with life-giving water, and moved on. We reached Sandhier at 11:55 am, where our vehicle was waiting. This was the first time we travelled in our support vehicle. The Sandhier –Bhatgam road junction ride took 20 minutes, and I dozed off during that short stretch itself.
We got down at the spot where we had stopped two and a half hours earlier and walked the remaining distance to Bhatgam Yatri Niwas. No shortcuts for us. We are turning into true Gandhians—or so I say.
Welcomes have become like pain balm applied to tired muscles—soothing and rejuvenating all at once. Local schoolchildren, happily chattering, received us along with a few villagers. We got them to sing “Nanha Munna Rahi Hoon,” complete with actions, ending with a collective shout of Jai Hind. After a quick bath, we enjoyed a meal of dal, mixed vegetables, soft rotis, rice, and chaas, which settled our stomachs.
I decided I deserved an afternoon nap and promptly crashed on my bed. Today, I had to choose between a timely report and a complete one. After yesterday’s feedback, timely seemed the better bet. The late evening events will find their place in tomorrow’s write-up.
Before I end, something beyond just the day’s events—my fellow walkers.
As we walk with friends, we notice their mostly wonderful and sometimes quirky habits. There is so much to learn from each of them.
The highly organised scholar—packing meticulously, laying things out in sequence and straight lines, reading for 15 minutes before sleep. The easy-going, garrulous one—making jokes of everything, giving high-fives to village kids, truly living in the moment with minimalist needs. The rare quiet one who does not use his mobile at all. The self-confessed stubborn but precise walker who believes time must be respected by everyone.
Then there is our Polestar—keeping the josh alive, guiding, pushing, planning, always ahead of the curve. Another, one of my closest friends always seems dressed for a golf course—measured steps, steady pace, constantly asking how much distance remains. Watching him unpack feels like seeing someone choose the right club for the next swing.
Alongside him is the admirable mixer—senior to all of us, endearing, soft-spoken, probably holding the record for maximum group photos, and the one who thanks everyone most of the time for helping him find things he seems to have misplaced.
And one who has coped with long walks and blisters with sheer determination has inspired me deeply—to understand that whatever life dishes out must be taken in stride.
And me—well, you all know me. Srini the Storyteller. This walk is cementing my conviction that lifelong learning is what keeps us energetic and filled with childlike curiosity. And the people around us are the greatest teachers, bringing life experiences we know nothing about.
I remember an old quote that captures this beautifully:
“The Pope and a pauper know more than the Pope alone.”
It has been another 25 km day. We so-called old men are eating up miles like popcorn at a theatre while watching a crime thriller—we realise it only once it’s over. We have completed 325 km so far. Tomorrow, we head to Surat, where five new walkers will join us for the final three days. The excitement in the group is palpable.
And a quick humorous aside: as I finished typing this in the Notes app and switched to another app, I saw my completed notes vanish. Panic. I hadn’t saved them. I couldn’t recreate them from scratch. That’s when my friend ChatGPT came to the rescue, walking me through the recovery process—and here are my chronicles for the day. I realised my Notes app behaved like my spiritual guru, saying, “You have written meaningfully—and it is lost. Let me test your vairagya.”
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