Sandhan, the valley of shadows 

It had rained heavily a few minutes ago. Though the rain had stopped, the air still carried moisture, and the earthy fragrance of wet soil filled the atmosphere. The sky was overcast, and it felt like the mountains were softly humming their own melody.

Lala had come to town with two guests to enjoy some dal vada (think of it as a cross between a vada pav and pakoras), and they called me to join them.

As I was free, I reached there in no time.

While chatting over breakfast, someone said, “It’s been a long time since we trained, hasn’t it?”

I had actually planned a trek the previous weekend, but it got canceled at the last minute.

I thought for a moment and said, “Let’s go!”

Lala and his guests looked at me, confused. They were probably wondering, Is he serious? Planning a trek just like that?

But I believe—you either overthink or you just do it.

And I’ve always admired the doers.

Lala gave a nod—green flag!

That was enough for me. I rushed back home and started packing.

“Rucksack… where’s my rucksack?”

Hiking pole, trekking shoes, track pants, sunglasses, headlamp—check, check, check. I stuffed all essentials in a hurry.

Lala kept calling, “Where are you? Hurry up!”

When I finally reached his place, he was still sitting comfortably, scrolling on his phone.

As soon as I arrived, he asked, “What’s the plan?”

“We’re going to Sandhan Valley—the Valley of Shadows. It’s the second-longest canyon in Asia,” I said.

Sandhan Valley is a stunning gorge near Samrad village in the Sahyadri range of Maharashtra. Due to its deep, narrow rock walls, sunlight barely reaches the bottom—hence the name "Valley of Shadows."

This 1.5 km long, 200-foot-deep gorge is an adventurer’s dream: water-carved rock passages, rappelling down cliffs, and camping under the stars, all surrounded by the towering peaks of Alang, Madan, and Kulang.

“We’ll reach the base by 6 PM, catch the mountain sunset, set up tents, start a campfire, cook dinner, rest, and begin our trek early next morning. We should be done by 2 or 3 PM,” I briefed them.

I coordinated with a local contact for ground support—and just like that, our journey began.

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An Unexpected Guest

Suddenly, we heard crying.

It was Vivan—an 8-year-old boy—crying his heart out.

“I want to come too! I will come!” he sobbed.

His emotional drama melted my heart.

“Lala, let’s take him with us.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Lala said. “Vivan’s just 8 years old! How will he manage this trek?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.”

And so, Vivan became part of our crew.

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To the Valley

We hit the road, music playing as we left miles behind. After a few hours, we arrived at Samrad.

I was craving chicken for dinner and searched for a shop, but Lala was reluctant to stop. He hadn’t found any liquor and didn’t want to drink in front of a child—so he gave up on the chicken too.

But I didn’t. Eventually, we found a small shop in Samrad and got what we needed.

I tried calling our local contact, but his phone was unreachable. So I wandered around—Samrad is small—and soon found his house.

The sky was too cloudy to enjoy the sunset, so we returned to our car and began setting up our tents. Meanwhile, the chicken was being cooked.

In just half an hour, dinner was ready—and somehow, it tasted extra special that night.

We sat around a bonfire. Vivan was beside me.

I asked him, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“An astronaut… no wait, a soldier! Like in an India–Pakistan war!” he said with excitement.

“And you?” he asked.

“I always wanted to be a wrestler, like my father. I trained for years and became one. Now, I’m figuring out what’s next.”

“I feel sleepy now,” Vivan yawned.

“Good night.”

Everyone retired to their tents. I lay under the open sky, staring at the stars… until it suddenly started raining! I jumped up and ran straight to the car.

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The Trek Begins

We woke up at 6 AM, had breakfast, packed our lunch, and began the trek.

We passed through dense forest, trees on all sides, birds singing morning tunes.

Soon, we reached the entrance of the valley. A 10–15-foot-wide pool of water blocked our path—rainwater collected from the mountains.

A makeshift cart was there to cross without getting wet.

“Don’t use it,” I warned. “Let’s carry our clothes and valuables and cross carefully.”

Lala ignored me—and got soaked from head to toe.

We, who followed the advice, crossed dry.

From there, it was rock over rock—centuries-old monsoon water had carved this magnificent path. We leaped over boulders, clicked photos, and soaked in the adventure.

Vivan and I led the group, the local guide behind us. Lala and the others were lagging behind.

“Do you like cartoons?” Vivan asked.

“Oh yes, when I was a kid! Popeye, Doraemon, Chhota Bheem, and my favorite—The Lion King.”

I quoted a line from it:

“Simba, tumhe ladna hoga. Apni matrubhumi ke liye. Tum nahi ladoge to kaun ladhega? Scar raja ban jayega!”

But Vivan only remembered one line: “Kya be kutte!”

(God knows where he picked that up.)

And soon, he shouted it out randomly: “Kya be kutte!”

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The Rappel

After hours of trekking, we reached a steep rock wall—too deep to descend without ropes.

Time for rappelling.

I’d done this before, so it wasn’t a big deal for me. But I worried about Vivan—and the other guys, who had never done anything like this.

With help from the local guide, we set up anchors and safety ropes.

“Who’s going first?” everyone wondered. I decided to break the ice.

I wore the harness, demonstrated the proper way, and began descending—feet apart, body at a 90-degree angle from the wall. Within seconds, I was down.

“Next!” 

“Vivan… send him down,” I called out. “I’m here, I’ll take care of him.”

Lala helped him into the harness. I expected fear, but Vivan amazed us all.

He rappelled like butter on a hot pan—smooth and effortless.

He even nodded his head cutely as he went down. I couldn’t believe how well he did—I captured it on video.

One by one, everyone made it down.

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Lunch and the Final Stretch

It was 11:30 AM. We were starving.

Our water was almost gone. We found a water spot and stopped for lunch: Chapati, sabzi, thecha, and chutney. Simple, yet delicious.

Everyone felt lazy after eating—except Vivan. That kid had endless energy.

Honestly, I wanted a nap.

“Hurry up… hurry up!” the guide urged. Time to move.

We packed up and started again. Now, we had to climb 3–4 km back up.

The sun was out, and the heat drained us. Lala’s wet shoes made walking hard.

Vivan and I led the way, while others fell far behind.

“Let’s go ahead. They’ll find the way,” Vivan said.

I informed the guide and pushed forward.

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The Final Surprise

Vivan kept chatting, and then—“Wow! Come here, come here!” he yelled.

I rushed over, worried he found a snake. The Western Ghats are full of venomous species.

But no—it was bones.

Probably of a cow, shattered.

Likely, vultures. When they can’t swallow large bones, they fly high and drop them to break them into pieces.

“Will vultures come here? Will they eat me?” Vivan asked nervously.

“No, don’t worry. Vultures are scavengers—they don’t hunt or eat fresh meat.”

We moved on.

Soon, we found wild blackberries. Ate a bunch. And finally—we reached the top.

Exhausted and dehydrated, we bought cold drinks and snacks while waiting for the others.

They arrived one by one.

We packed into the car and headed home—with tired bodies, full hearts, and unforgettable memories.