The end of his journey is only the beginning. That is the premise of Cast Away, the story of a man who lives all by himself for four years. The movie celebrates the spirit of human race and conveys a simple truth -- survival is easy, it is living that is difficult. Cast Away, or to be precise Tom Hanks's inspiring performance in it, made me think about a real life Robinson Crusoe whom I had met. His name is Sher Wadia. He chose to be an island, living atop a mountain for 17 years. I found him on a summer morning, 80 km from Pune, after a two-and-a-half hour ride and a trek uphill. He sensed our presence when we were halfway up. The man who met us on top was a lanky six-footer, unkempt, with a straggly beard. What stood out about him were his eyes, eyes that sparkled defiance and boundless energy. "You city dwellers are so stupid! You ask such stupid questions!" Imperious. Caustic. Blunt to the point of being rude. And all because I asked him about the size of his house.... Obviously, Wadia did not believe in polite conversation. He didn't say much. And definitely not something without purpose. I had been warned that Wadia might resent my presence and questions. I was also told that it would be polite to take some fruits up there for him. I saw a board on the mountainside, "This is private property. Do not trespass!" It added to my feeling of unease. What my trekker friend told me of Wadia had me intrigued. He had spent a nomadic childhood, shifting from one school to another. He moved from Bombay to Ooty to Pune to Panchgani... But education was not what Wadia longed for. So he hit the road, cutting across highways in trucks and buses as he ran his transport business. He lived the rat race for 10 years. Got married, divorced. Then he found Pandavgarh. It was not an easy decision to leave everything. But Wadia seemed not seem to regret it today. "The serenity of this place that offers a contrast to my earlier rushed existence makes my life earlier seem sterile," he said. "I have no emotional ties, no feverish goals to accomplish. "Besides, what does one get when one is staying in a city? Each day is the same. The only change being the change in the calendar and maybe the difference in the date. Here, each day brings something new to be explored." Wadia's abode looked a labour of love. Nicely painted, with polished stone flooring, it had carved woodwork and electric lights. Even in the middle of the wilderness, he had running water from a plumbing system he had fixed himself. "Initially, I used to sleep in a cave near a water tank," he told me, energetically puffing on a bidi. "Then the water started leaking and I needed to look for a more permanent residence. So I lugged everything that I needed up the hill and with the help of some villagers decided to build my own house. "When you are staying in a city, you always have someone taking care of your dirty work," he went on. "But living, learning, adapting with nature teaches you how to survive. This place gave me the opportunity to exercise my mind in the true sense of the word." The house initially struck me as a complete mess. But then I realised that it was a statement of Wadia's freedom. Built to suit a bachelor, there was a little radio humming in the background, dirty dishes in the kitchen, cobwebs around, and an assortment of tall pyramids. That was Wadia's latest interest, besides carving, weaving, painting, photography and sleeping. He kept his vegetables fresh by storing them under a pyramid. He slept under another with light streaming through coloured fibreglass and said that he experienced different sensations. He also had a few drawings of UFOs pinned across his bedroom that he had seen and was researching. As silence descended over our lunch of fruits, chappatis and vada pavs, I wondered whether he missed talking to people. Had the silence added a little madness to his method? Sensing the unasked questions, Wadia said, "Yes, I do. Miss company. But while I may live in isolation, I am not isolated." There was the whole business of survival to keep him busy. There had been days when Wadia went hungry because wild boars destroyed his crops. But on the whole, he had mastered the art of survival. He showed me with pride where he grew what he needed, from wheat to vegetables. Wadia visited the nearby village Wai sometimes, to get supplies like salt and poultry, and his mail. A snake slithering by had us talk of his experiences of staying alone. "Seventeen years ago, the landscape was barren. I planted a lot of trees. But then the drought of '89 brought all the animals to Pandavgarh in search of water and food. And ever since there have been more animals here. I had 22 dogs which the panthers devoured." There was silence again as we looked at the makeshift fence near the house and his armoured suit, which he wore when he ventured out in the night. Then he started talking about rebuilding his house because the wind had changed direction, his wish to die in the mountains, and his adoption of a village kid, Krishan. I began to wonder what he considered the important things in life. In that silence, as we listened to the chirping birds and watched the setting sun kilometres away from civilisation, I saw besides me a man who had attained an understanding of life. A man who seemed at peace with himself. Nidhi Taparia too hopes to take to the mountains one day... Design: Uttam Ghosh Tell us what you think of this diary
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