The train journey from Mumbai to Ratnagiri during the monsoon is a treat to the eyes. As the rain falls, everything feels like a watercolour painting. Smudged greenest of green grass, a mix shade of grey in the skies, splashes of deep-red tiled houses happily standing out in the middle of it all, the occasional river overfull with rainwater bouncing away and everything washed clean. Simply my kind of landscape.

As I stepped out of the train into Ratnagiri station, the air smelled of wet earth, nature looked welcoming, there was humidity and cool breeze moving together and I was excited for some monsoon therapy.

Monsoon has always been my favourite time to travel. A simple walk in the rain rejuvenates me. Most beaches are empty during this time, so I have my alone time with the sea. So, my intention for this trip was simple, to recharge my mind and soul.

The Slow Start to a Monsoon Morning

On my first morning in Ratnagiri, I woke up to the chirpiness of the birds, going about their morning chores. I made a cup of coffee and sat on the swing outside my room and admired the mango orchard surrounding the villa I was staying in.

There were squirrels and birds in all colours. My eyes simply followed their sounds and tried to track them in the middle of the branches. I spent more than an hour doing that without realising it, until the manager got me my breakfast which was hot thalipeeth, a Maharashtrian breakfast speciality made with mixed flour.

And that’s also when I realised that I hadn’t looked at my phone for a long time, exactly what I wanted from this trip.

Slow morning, slow breakfast, second cup of coffee and time just passing by without any hurry or rush – something that I fail to experience in a city. Somehow the hustle around always takes over life, no matter how hard you try.

Once I got a good dose of that, I decided to step out and explore the city. Some western brands like KFC and Dominos Pizza were sitting comfortably close to the gharguti (homestyle) food restaurants. The central city part looked like most cities in Maharashtra, modernity and culture co-existing. I explored the culture part.

Discovering Tilak’s childhood home

Right in the heart of the market is the well-maintained house of Lokmanya Tilak, one of the freedom fighters from Maharashtra whose famous words were – Swaraj is my birthright and I shall have it.

This was the house where he was born and lived until the age of 10 and now is converted into a museum.

It’s a traditional two-storeyed Konkani house with verandas and a tiled slanting roof. When you walk barefoot, the floor passes on a cooling effect. It’s a small house, nothing luxurious, something his father, who was teacher, could afford to rent. When he was growing up there, no one would have thought that he would grow up to become one of the prominent thinkers during India’s freedom movement.

Savarkar’s Ratnagiri Connection

Another freedom fighter who has a connection to Ratnagiri is Veer Savarkar. During the British rule, they used Ratnagiri as a place to keep powerful people away from the central places and Savarkar was kept here in confinement.

But he was not the one to keep quiet, so he got involved in social reforms and established the Patit Pavan Mandir in Ratnagiri, where people from communities who were not allowed inside a temple could go. He quietly managed to create a new thought in the society there.

A surprising historical discovery for me was the Thibaw Palace.

The Unexpected Story of Thibaw Palace

As the name suggests, it was a palace built by the British for the last king of Burma – King Thibaw. In 1885, the British defeated the Burmese kingdom and sent the king in exile in the coastal town of Ratnagiri. The king, along with his queen, lived in Ratnagiri for almost 30 years. It’s a connection hard to make and mostly remains unknown until you visit Ratnagiri.

The Thibaw palace is an interesting acknowledgement of Konkan and Burmese architectural styles. Standing bright and happy in red laterite, with sloping tiled roof, shows off both the influences.

Today the palace has been turned into a museum, with not much to see inside except some remnants of the family but the building itself is striking.

By now, Ratnagiri had stopped looking like the sleepy monsoon town I had arrived in. Everywhere I turned, there seemed to be another layer of history.

Ratnadurg Fort and the Arabian Sea

Another piece of history rests at the Ratnagiri fort also known as Bhagwati fort and Ratnadurg fort.

The façade at the entrance looks recently painted and gives it an artificial feel to it, almost a put-off from an aesthetic point of view. When you step in, you might see just a few curious tourists, but it’s mostly deserted. There’s a temple of Bhagwati in the premises and then as you walk around you can see points from where the sea is clearly visible.

When you come out, you can see the extended portion of the fort, partly in good condition, partly showing the passage of time, as it’s many centuries old and has seen many rulers and dynasties in its time. It does look like a fort which has played a strategic part in history.

As a part of the extension is a small promenade kind of place where one can sit and admire the magnificent Arabian sea and watch how the rays of the sun do a magical play during sunset. One of the best experiences in Ratnagiri.

I had come to Ratnagiri looking for rain, empty beaches and a few quiet days away from the city. Instead, the town gave me a history lesson I hadn’t planned for.

Maybe next monsoon I’ll come here and let the place surprise me with something else.