Manikgad had been on my radar for quite some time.
That morning, I woke up and got ready as usual, planning to head out for the trek. My parents had already decided to join me. Later, my wife mentioned that my father and sister-in-law were also coming along.
What started as a solo plan slowly turned into a small group trek.
Trekking with so many people was an interesting experience in itself.
I searched for Manikgad on Google Maps and started driving.
We reached the village of Savane, and from there, the jungle trek began.
There were a few interesting things about Manikgad. This mountain is not travelled much. It almost feels ignored. Usually, on popular treks, you find small shops along the way—selling water, snacks, or tea. Here, there were none.
And that’s when I made my first mistake.
I hadn’t even carried water.
Why? Because I didn’t investigate properly. I didn’t research enough. Plain and simple.
The villagers were kind enough to give us a 2-litre water bottle. At that moment, it felt sufficient. We would later realise it wasn’t—but that part was still ahead of us.
We entered the jungle and immediately noticed something unsettling: multiple trails branching off in different directions. As the so-called trekking enthusiast, I naturally took the lead. I walked ahead as if I knew better.
I didn’t.
When you’re leading, sometimes you’re just pretending.
We walked through the jungle for a long time. Eventually, I felt it—we were lost. I was afraid, but I couldn’t express it. Panic would only make things worse.
Ironically, I felt relieved when I spotted a torn Snickers wrapper on the ground. I don’t advocate littering, especially in nature, but in that moment, it gave me hope. Someone had walked this path before. Someone “civilised” enough to eat a chocolate bar.
So this must be the right trail.
I convinced myself and kept pretending.
Soon, the pretence cracked. The trail vanished completely, and we were walking aimlessly towards the mountain, barely visible through the trees. My father was the first to raise concern.
After some discussion, I decided to turn back and abandon that trail.
That’s when my father-in-law suggested something else—cutting straight through the jungle towards the mountain, without a defined path.
“If we don’t find the way, we’ll return,” he said.
It was a classic sales pitch.
I agreed. My parents agreed—reluctantly.
A little further in, we finally found a trail.
As we resumed walking, another problem surfaced. My sister-in-law was struggling. It felt as if she was walking on a trail for the first time, and my parents were worried she might get hurt.
We paused again and took my father-in-law’s opinion. He still wanted to continue, mainly because he knew I wanted to. We stopped to eat and drink some water. My mother had carried fish and bhakri—thank God she did.
After resting for a while, we continued. Soon, we reached a flat stretch that extended all the way to the base of the summit.
The final climb wasn’t easy either. Since the trail was less travelled, it was still dense and dark with jungle cover.
Midway, I received a call from my manager. He wanted an update on a corporate commitment. It was Sunday. I was in the middle of a jungle trek. Still, I picked up.
I asked for the bank’s demand. He paused, thought for a second, and agreed. I relayed the update to my RM—work done.
Somehow, even on that trail, I solved a professional problem. It boosted my confidence.
We finally reached the top.
It wasn’t easy. My sister-in-law had given up by then. We clicked some beautiful pictures and began our descent.
That’s when something interesting—and concerning—happened.
I couldn’t find the same trail we used to ascend. The obvious path was a straight descent, not through the deep jungle. I chose safety over speed. I had miscalculated time and was desperate to finish the trek before dark.
We drank all the remaining water. We had none left.
Speed became the only option.
The descent was long. Slowly, I realised we were heading in a completely different direction. Savane was far to the left. We were moving right.
The trail felt endless.
Eventually, we reached Dhangarwadi—a place with broken, deserted houses. We met a few people who advised us to continue to Thakarwadi and then take an auto back to Savane.
We reached Thakarwadi. My parents asked for help. A kind family gave us water and tea and called an auto for us. Within 20 minutes, we were on our way back to Savane.
We reached the car and drove home.
Manikgad proved tremendously difficult.
I am not an adventurer. I love trekking, yes—but I am uncomfortable with uncertainty, especially in dense jungle terrain.
That day, I faced a simple truth about myself: I am risk-averse. I love photographs, not risk.
And yet—after doing it—I felt good.
As if I had achieved something.
