Aati kya Khandala? Take the expressway, then...

Vinita Deshmukh explains why the Mumbai-Pune superhighway has destroyed the pleasure of a favourite stopover

ROAD TO HELL: The expressway snakes through the Sahyadri hills (left); a signboard for a local hotel arouses no curiosity

How long ago was it that a streetsmart, scruffy rogue called Siddu warbled Aati Kya Khandala to the very propah Ayesha? That one song triggered a veritable stampede to the twin townships of Lonavla-Khandala, for long Mumbai-Pune’s best kept secret. The magnificent Sahyadris, plunging valleys, the exotic green cover, the easy connectivity and, of course, the chikki all contributed to make it a favourite stopover for commuters from either city. And if it was the monsoons, a halt was virtually compulsory, for that was when the waterfalls are the most vigorous and the undulating greenery the most lush.

If Ghulam (1998) did more to promote the twin townships nationally than the municipality and the state government put together, the authorities, too, pitched in. Only their contribution — the Rs 1300-crore Pune-Mumbai Expressway, the country’s first-ever superhighway inaugurated just a few months ago — has impacted Lonavla-Khandala right in the solar plexus. As incongruous as a haz-mat suit in a mustard field, the futuristic six-lane expressway literally flies over the twin townships. The imaginative can picture the macadam thumbing its nose at the greenery, mocking any inclination to stand and stare.

So, anyone trying to go the jhoomenge, naachenge...aish karenge, aur kya way will have to make a special effort, by branching off the expressway. For the perpetually-pressed-for-time 21st century traveller, that is simply no option.

But this is more than a lament for the good ol’ days, more than the detailing of the impact of concrete on nature. The restaurant and chikki business — heavily dependent on passing tourist traffic — has plunged by around 50 per cent. Says an employee of Kamat’s, arguably the most popular restaurant here, ‘‘We have lost more than 60 per cent of our business, thanks to the expressway.’’

According to local photojournalist Madan Khire, ‘‘In the last four-five years, several grocery shops reinvented themselves as chikki dealers. Now, the writing is on the wall for them. There has been a slump of more than 50 per cent and two-three years down the line, probably only four or five top brands will survive.’’

The Lonavla bazar, studded with 100-odd chikki shops, with a total daily turnover of around Rs 1 lakh (up 50 per cent over weekends) wears a deserted look on the best of days, a far cry from the heady days of enterprise a few years ago which saw retailers diversifying into cashew, pista and dried coconut chikkis. States Bharat Agarwal, a prominent citizen and owner of the famous Maganlal Chikki, ‘‘The chikki market has never been as depressed as it is now. The small-timers have been especially badly affected, so much so that some may close down.’’

Vijay, owner of Kumar Resorts, agrees: ‘‘Our restaurant has lost more than 40 per cent business. But the expressway hasn’t affected our hotel rooms.’’ Which means, tourists whose destination is Lonavla-Khandala — that is to say, people who are not mere passers-by — continue to visit the hill townships.

To be fair, that’s not the only silver lining to this story. Vehicular pollution levels have dropped drastically in Lonavla-Khandala ever since the thousands of long-distance commuter vehicles stopped using the narrow Lonavla bazar road. ‘‘Psychologically, it seems the chikki and restaurant business has fallen by 100 per cent. In reality, it is at least 40 per cent less. On the upside, since there’s no traffic congestion now, tourists can move about freely. The environment, too, is fresher than it used to be. I won’t be surprised if, over the next three-four years, the tourist traffic actually increases.’’

Time, then, for a new song?