<p>"Appa, do you want to see a volcano?" asked my son Sumukh when I visited him in Manila, Philippines. "Of course," I replied enthusiastically. But when he said the volcano was active, I hesitated. “Don’t worry, it hasn’t erupted for the past 15 years,” he reassured me. "What if it erupts now?" I doubted. "Then there will be no need for cremating our bodies," he replied wryly. </p>.<p>We boarded a taxi. "Could we have not gone by a Jeepney?" I asked. Jeepney is a cross between a jeep and a van and the most popular public transport in Manila. Its conductors shout names of destinations, compete with other Jeepneys, grab and push customers into the overcrowded vehicles in true abductor style. Sumukh said it would take us the entire day if we travelled in a Jeepney. </p>.<p>After two hours, we reached Tagaytay, from where we had to take another vehicle to go to the volcano. A lone tuk-tuk was nearby. Unlike the auto-rickshaw, the Philippine contraption had a roofed sidecar attached to a motorcycle. We sat in the sidecar, remembering the movie Sholay. In typical Dharmendra style, the driver drove manically downhill and dropped us on the banks of a vast lake.</p>.<p>To see the volcano at close quarters, we had to cross the lake by boat. As we got down from the boat, scores of guides surrounded us. "To climb to the viewpoint, it takes more than an hour and you have to ride a mule," chorussed the guides. </p>.<p>We both mounted two mules. They were malnourished and looked more like the horses drawing Mysore Jutkas. They were reluctant to climb up again as they had already done two or three round trips. The first few minutes were okay, but when we started climbing a steep narrow and slippery mule path, I felt I may fall any time and desired to dismount and climb on foot. "What Appa, why are you scared? Did they not train you to ride horses in the Police Academy?" asked Sumukh. "After I fell from a horse and broke my arm, I avoided horse-riding and failed in my test. I cleared it on my third attempt thanks to a kind-hearted SP. May his soul rest in peace," I said and asked the guide to slow down. He gave a dirty look but obeyed.</p>.<p>When we reached the top of the hill, the sight surrounding us made me forget the physical discomfort thanks to the mule ride. The blue hills, green forests, grey clouds, and the placid lake below looked picture perfect. </p>.<p>Our guide offered to take us to Crater Lake near the volcano for a bath. He said its water has medicinal properties. I agreed. When he asked me to mount the mule again, I said no and walked back to the waterfront. Six months after I returned home in one piece, the volcano erupted. But none died.</p>
<p>"Appa, do you want to see a volcano?" asked my son Sumukh when I visited him in Manila, Philippines. "Of course," I replied enthusiastically. But when he said the volcano was active, I hesitated. “Don’t worry, it hasn’t erupted for the past 15 years,” he reassured me. "What if it erupts now?" I doubted. "Then there will be no need for cremating our bodies," he replied wryly. </p>.<p>We boarded a taxi. "Could we have not gone by a Jeepney?" I asked. Jeepney is a cross between a jeep and a van and the most popular public transport in Manila. Its conductors shout names of destinations, compete with other Jeepneys, grab and push customers into the overcrowded vehicles in true abductor style. Sumukh said it would take us the entire day if we travelled in a Jeepney. </p>.<p>After two hours, we reached Tagaytay, from where we had to take another vehicle to go to the volcano. A lone tuk-tuk was nearby. Unlike the auto-rickshaw, the Philippine contraption had a roofed sidecar attached to a motorcycle. We sat in the sidecar, remembering the movie Sholay. In typical Dharmendra style, the driver drove manically downhill and dropped us on the banks of a vast lake.</p>.<p>To see the volcano at close quarters, we had to cross the lake by boat. As we got down from the boat, scores of guides surrounded us. "To climb to the viewpoint, it takes more than an hour and you have to ride a mule," chorussed the guides. </p>.<p>We both mounted two mules. They were malnourished and looked more like the horses drawing Mysore Jutkas. They were reluctant to climb up again as they had already done two or three round trips. The first few minutes were okay, but when we started climbing a steep narrow and slippery mule path, I felt I may fall any time and desired to dismount and climb on foot. "What Appa, why are you scared? Did they not train you to ride horses in the Police Academy?" asked Sumukh. "After I fell from a horse and broke my arm, I avoided horse-riding and failed in my test. I cleared it on my third attempt thanks to a kind-hearted SP. May his soul rest in peace," I said and asked the guide to slow down. He gave a dirty look but obeyed.</p>.<p>When we reached the top of the hill, the sight surrounding us made me forget the physical discomfort thanks to the mule ride. The blue hills, green forests, grey clouds, and the placid lake below looked picture perfect. </p>.<p>Our guide offered to take us to Crater Lake near the volcano for a bath. He said its water has medicinal properties. I agreed. When he asked me to mount the mule again, I said no and walked back to the waterfront. Six months after I returned home in one piece, the volcano erupted. But none died.</p>