Chapter 9: The Pillar, the Rope Ladder, and the Night Sky

The afternoon went much like the morning, just a bit faster. We finally made it over Konda Hill before sunset. The sea of dark green trees ahead stunned everyone—they gasped at the world’s beauty.

As the light faded, the group fell silent, each person lost in their own wonder. The trees stretched to the horizon, the air thick with the promise of night. Someone pointed out a distant waterfall, its sound like a lullaby.

My cousin pointed ahead. “We can’t make it to Mango Grove today. Hiking at night is dangerous. We’ll camp over there tonight.”

He spoke with the authority of someone who’d seen too many city people stumble in the dark. Nobody argued. In the hills, night is its own kind of danger—a teacher more patient than any guide.

I looked where he pointed and realized he’d planned this all along.

The Big Round Pillar—a naturally formed cylindrical rock—stood at the foot of Konda Hill.

It rose out of the earth like a story from old legends, a silent witness to a thousand sunsets. In the fading light, it looked almost magical.

It was called the Big Round Pillar because it looked like a giant wooden stake, its top sliced flat, sticking straight out of the earth and surrounded by steep cliffs.

The elders in Kaveripur said the gods themselves had driven that pillar into the earth to anchor the village against storms. I’d grown up climbing it, daring my friends to race to the top. Today, it would be our fortress.

“Looks hard to climb. How do we get up?” Boss Nair asked, eyeing his big belly.

Everyone laughed, the sound echoing off the rocks. My cousin just winked, already pulling out the rope ladder.

My cousin said, “It’s only about ten metres high. I brought a rope ladder. The top’s flat—you can pitch tents. Normally I don’t bring trekkers here because the night sky is so beautiful, no one wants to sleep.”

He made it sound like a secret gift, something reserved for those who truly loved the wild. The group looked up, faces glowing with anticipation.

“The stars? Really?” Priya suddenly got excited. “Are there a lot of stars?”

Her eyes shone with the eagerness of a child, her quiet mask slipping. For a second, she was just another dreamer under the sky.

“Yesterday was cloudy. Tonight’s clear—the stars will be amazing. Compared to the city, you won’t even need lanterns. Mainly, it’s for safety—there are wolves, snakes, and lots of bugs in the forest. Camping on the ground is a hassle.”

He listed the dangers as if they were distant relatives—unwelcome, but not to be feared if you know their tricks. The group nodded, pulling their jackets tighter.

“I want to go,” Priya said firmly.

She stood up, determination in her voice. The others followed, swept up in her excitement.

The other three women wanted to try too, so the men agreed.

Consensus came quickly; city hierarchies dissolved in the presence of stars. Everyone prepared to climb, hearts racing.

From the hill, the Big Round Pillar looked like a peda—not that big. But I knew the top was a circular area nearly thirty metres across—a few tents would hardly take up any space.

It always reminded me of the sweets Ma made for festivals—round, soft, hiding surprises at the centre. Up close, it was even more inviting, promising safety and adventure in equal measure.

Most importantly, once you’re up, it’s not easy to come down.

The only way was the rope ladder, which my cousin would guard all night. Up there, the world feels far away—no phone signal, no escape. The hills keep you honest.

On the way down, my cousin glanced at the cloth bag again.

His eyes met mine, a silent reminder that some things don’t change—desire, need, opportunity. The night, once again, was pregnant with secrets.

On the side of the Big Round Pillar, a thick coir rope dangled—a tool left from before. My cousin, nimble as ever, scrambled up and tossed down the rope ladder.

His movements were swift, practised—legs braced, hands sure, as if he belonged to the stone itself. The city folks watched, admiration in their eyes. “Kya hero hai!” someone whispered.

With some pulling and pushing, everyone climbed up, set up tents, built a fire, and rested.

The climb was a comedy of errors—shoes slipping, jackets catching, Boss Nair huffed and puffed, muttering, “Beta, this is not my gym back in Andheri.” The others cheered him on, promising a prize of two samosas at the top. Still, the laughter that followed was genuine, bonding the group tighter than any city party ever could. The fire, once lit, crackled bravely against the dark.

Night fell, black as kohl, swallowing everything. Even the wind seemed dark.

The world shrank to the little circle of light on the pillar’s top. Shadows danced on the tents, and someone played old Hindi songs on a Bluetooth speaker, the music floating up to the stars. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and half-burned rotis.

When you could no longer see the sea of trees, the stars burst out above—so many, so bright, so dazzling that everyone cheered.

People lay on their backs, pointing out Saptarishi, someone humming the tune of “Yeh Tara Woh Tara.” Even the Bluetooth speaker gave up, letting the silence settle like a soft shawl. Priya sketched quietly by the fire, the glow lighting up her face. Riya spun a slow dance, arms raised. Meera and Deepa exchanged secrets, their voices a gentle hum.

So beautiful, so dense, so radiant—it made life itself seem trivial.

For a few minutes, nobody spoke. Even the most restless hearts were stilled by the universe’s indifference and beauty.

“You’re still a virgin, right?” My cousin suddenly sat beside me, handing me a small bottle of Old Monk.

The question caught me off guard, making me blush. Out here, surrounded by stars and secrets, it felt both intrusive and oddly natural. I shook my head, smiling awkwardly.

I didn’t understand why he asked, and awkwardly waved him off.

“Leave it, bhaiya,” I muttered, but he only laughed, slapping my back. The hills have their own rules, their own ways of growing up.

“Arrey bhai.” My cousin put on a serious face, draped an arm over my shoulder, and whispered, “No matter what happens tonight, you have to pretend you didn’t hear or see anything.”

His voice was low, urgent—the voice of someone who’s seen too much, who knows how quickly innocence can be lost. I nodded, the lesson settling in my bones.

I got a little nervous. “Hear… see what?”

I swallowed hard, my palms sweaty. The night suddenly felt deeper, the firelight harsher.

“Whatever it is, just listen to me. If you want your share in the future, you’ll learn what it means to find pleasure in hardship. Otherwise, just go home and work at the kirana or move to Mumbai, but don’t ever think of following me again. Got it?”

The choice was clear—learn to keep secrets, or stay forever on the outside. In the hills, loyalty is worth more than gold.

I understood every word, but it felt like he was talking about something huge.

I thought of home, of Ma’s tired eyes, of the dream of a new roof. The path ahead was not just through the forest, but through a world of unspoken truths.

“I get it… I swear, I’ll listen to you, no matter what happens.”

The words felt like a promise carved in stone. My cousin nodded, his eyes proud. For the first time, I felt like a real guide, ready for whatever the night would bring.

He patted me on the back and walked away. I saw the four men gathered together, and my cousin went over to them.

On the other side, the four women lay together, lost in the romance of the stars.

The night air was thick with possibility. Somewhere, a dog barked. Far below, the river whispered its own secrets. Up here, under the stars, everyone was a little more honest, a little more alive. The story, I knew, was far from over—and in the darkness, someone’s laughter drifted, promising secrets yet to come.