Skip to main content

Bhongir Fort, Hyderabad

About fifty kilometers outside of Hyderabad lies a little-known attraction called Bhongir Fort. The town of Bhongir is home to the "monolithic rock" where the twelfth-century fort still stands. And you can hike up that giant rock to the fort on top.

We've been looking for day-trip hikes to do with Muffin and a friend said he was going back to Bhongir and didn't mind if we tagged along at Muffin's pace. We brought the baby backpack but we let her start off on her own. We are always impressed with her stamina and endurance, for a two-year-old, but she blew us away as well as all the others in our party by insisting on walking up to the top all by herself. She held our hands in a few tricky places but she refused to be picked up.

She was so proud of herself when she got to the top. When she saw the view of the plains below she let out an "Oh wow!" that echoed through the fort. Then she very happily and very hungrily dug into the lunch I'd carried up for her -- chocolate milk, cheese, bananas, and almonds. As we'd been hiking up the last part, she said over and over, "Chocolate milk at the top!" and I think it became her version of "Just keep swimming," keeping her motivated.

We ate lunch and rested for a bit, walking around the fort and exploring. We decided to put her in the backpack for the walk down because it was so steep and she was so tired; none of us really had the energy to try and keep her from tumbling down. She protested, but as tired as we were, we were still bigger and stronger than she was and we wrangled her into the backpack. She fell asleep within about five minutes and stayed asleep for the whole walk down and the whole drive back to Hyderabad.

Going up...
and up...
and up.
At the top.
Coming back down.
The walk up takes thirty minutes to an hour, depending on the pace you're going. You can go straight up the rock or take a winding stairway around the sides of the fort.

To get to Bhongir, take the road to Warangal. At just under fifty kilometers, you'll notice some large rocks on the horizon and there's a sign for the town of Bhongir. There's a nominal entrance fee. We'd heard 60 rupees per person but we were charged something like 100 for all 5 adults, Muffin, and two cameras. We learned why we got such a discount on the way down. The ticket agent called the local newspaper after we entered and as we descended, reporters and photographers were waiting to take our photos and get our names. It was very exciting news to have Americans at the fort, apparently. We obliged and gave them our first names. Muffin was totally conked out, or else they would have gotten a real treat for the front page.


Popular posts from this blog

The Acid Bug

My blog will now join the short list of results that pop up when you search for "nairobi fly, acid bug" on Google. Mike was hit by one over the weekend.
The Nairobi fly is a small beetle that does not bite or sting, but based on its nickname acid bug, guess what it does? The insides of the bug are toxic, and if you smack it against your skin the juices cause a burning rash. They are common throughout East and Central Africa, and it's the season for them here in Burundi. We think Mike and his friend rode through a swarm of them on their bikes over the weekend, because his friend has some burn spots, too, and the spots appeared on both of them after they returned from the ride.
We've heard of two remedies to soothe the burning, but Mike hasn't tried either yet. One is to use toothpaste, the old-school white kind, and the other is to cut a potato and rub it on the burn area. Both the toothpaste and the potato are supposed to draw out the acid. If you wash the area imm…

What Goes Through My Head When I Lock My Door

When I'm alone in our apartment, or alone with Muffin, I lock the deadbolt, day and night. Here is my thought process:

I'm walking down the hallway toward my door. I nod "Hello" in a neighborly way to a man also walking down the hall. I enter my apartment (having had my key ready since I first got into the elevator because women are conditioned from an early age not to be fumbling for their keys in an area where the distraction of doing so might make them vulnerable to an attack) and close the door. I put my hand on the deadbolt but I don't turn it right away.

What if the guy who just walked by thinks I'm locking it because I'm afraid of him? 

It's not about him specifically, though, it's about being a woman alone in an apartment building. 

So what if he's offended? 

It's none of his business if I lock my door or not, unless he was planning to enter the apartment, in which case fuck him, I did the right thing by locking the door.

I'm a nar…

Book Review: Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places by Colin Dickey

After you've read something, please consider leaving a line or two on Goodreads and Amazon. The authors appreciate it!

Here's my review as it appears on Goodreads.

Ghostland: An American History in Haunted Places by Colin Dickey
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I really liked this book in the beginning. I grew up in an old haunted house in New England, yet I'm always a skeptic. (99% of supernatural activity ends up being the wind or a cat — and cats are creepy as hell.) I liked reading the stories behind the stories, whether they debunked the legends or gave credence to them. I’ve always been interested in history and nonfiction and ghost stories are the old “fake news.” Entertaining but you shouldn’t necessarily take them at face value. As the book went on, I found the stories themselves no less interesting but the format became tedious.

A couple of the stories really stood out to me. There are many cases of ghost stories being used to control a narrative that makes people feel sa…