Uttarakhand to Kolkata

My ipod shuffle was playing Wo Lamhe.. by Atif Aslam from the movie Zeher. It was the time when I was crossing the bridge over Ganga in Varanasi. Time was 5:30 am. Grand trunk road.. NH2 more precisely. The dawn had just broken in. The truck lights were then disappearing slowly into the day light. After the whole night drive the daylights finally were there to offer me some relief.

The river looked beautiful. Two three boys were seen jogging on the bridge footpath. Really lucky them should I call them to find a spot like that to run. I really wished to stop and take some snaps. But then the signboard showing ‘Kolkata 732 kms’ kept itching me not to skip the grip over the accelerator. The night had taken toll over me. Head was buzzing with heaviness, the eyes really wanted to stoop down for a nap. But then I wanted to reach home before 5 pm.

1800 kms in 35 hours..

Digest that you ardent blog reader.

One and only reason to do a strenous bike trip of this kind was to test my buddy Thunderbird 350. I am mad so I personally didn’t need any test to show the degrees of my madness. Just wanted to check if my bike could tackle my frenziness. The bike is a solid stuff.

Kawalkar still bluffs, like he always used to in college days. Certain things never change. He had commented that my bike would screw up definitely on a such journey and that Enfields are not reliable and much more blah blah blah. I should say the bike is good. No heating problem. 40 kmpl on such a ride with a record of 9000 kms in 5 months. Amaravati to Melghat to back to Nagpur to Jabalpur to Agra to Haridwar to Bharsar in Uttarakhand to Hisar through Delhi and back to Bharsar then to Dehradun to Bharsar to Kolkata via Lucknow Allahabad Varanasi.

I had left Bharsar on 6^th October at 6 am, exact at 6 am my bike ignition was switched on. I had woken up at 4:30 am followed by a snooze of 20 minutes. Knew  what was gonna follow would be a 36 hrs non stop ride to home. So wanted a nice nap refreshed mind. But as usual, the mind doesn’t sleep peacefully when what is gonna follow next day early morning is a firecracker. I remember I hadn’t slept properly the night before embarking the Uklana tour. Even if you fall asleep, as if the brain keep riding bike whole night, and you wake up in the middle of the night trying to tell the brain to shut up and go to sleep. That sucks.

Happiness was leaving the Bharsar campus. The horticulture university campus surely didn’t deserve a doctor. Too much superstitious practitioners and ignorant idiots. There is no such term as ‘ignorant idiot’ for sure. Better would be just simply an ‘idiot’. More precisely talking of the Bharsar trp section, educated idiots would be the best. Driving out of the gates was such a pleasure. What I knew ahead was waiting for me was 1800 kms highway. Big day it was.

I had to get my engine oil changed at Najibabad. Also got the chain oiled. I didn’t get the 4 way lanes until I crossed Moradabad. Had taken one wrong turn at Moradabad, which rectified later. That was when I realized that I needed to rely heavily on my mobile gps rather than the roadside signboards or the public opinions.

This time, Highway to dangerzone track from the movie Top Gun kept humming in my mind. Song of the trip would We All Die Young by Steel Dragon. Although I didn’t listen to this track through out the trip. Ha ha. I forgot to load it in my ipod, but since I realized later that it would serve as the track of this trip so I downloaded it on my mobile just before stepping out and through out my trip I never connected earplugs to my mobile.

After Moradabad, I ravaged my bike at 120 kmph through out the whole expressway stretch to Bareily. After Bareily, the roads became hell. That continued till Sitapur. The bad roads exhausted me like anything. Spotted a beautiful sunset over the green fields after Bareily but didn’t stop.

This thing really created itches for me this time. How you overtake the trucks and then you don’t want to take any stop because the trucks you overtook will go ahead of you again if you halt. The time lapse occurs on such long trips thats a different thing. And on the four way or six way lanes, most of our truck drivers are still ignorant on to which way to drive.

Had touched Lucknow at night 12 am I think. Two drunkards I met at tea stall on Lucknow outskirts, they were airforce employees, thats what they said. My bike attracts attention, the heavy baggage on it attracts even more, then comes the number plate “you are from Maharashtra, you drove upto here?”  Thats when I have to spell my travel diaries to them in as short as possible. Then comes the doctor sign “you are a doctor?” Then they spot my beard. Thats how the cloudburst of queries thunder on me. This time these two drunkards had even clicked one selfie with me. Unknown road, unknown city, unknown people, midnight, and a selfie. I am crazy. His name was Vargis. He even noted down my number. He called me in the evening time a day after.

Whole night I just kept calculating my chances of crossing Varanasi before the 6 am. That way if  I drove like hell after Varanasi, I would be able to reach Kolkata before 5 pm. I wanted to watch Atletico de Kolkata match which was to start at 7 pm. I touched the G T road at 3 am. Big broad expressway. Pleasure was mine. I fired like hell after that. It was then that my ipod started playing Joker and The Thief by Wolmother. I did play it repeatedly. Helped my to stay awake.

It was dark. Allahabad was flying past in that darkness, as did the rivers. The trucks would run all night. I had stopped just before Varanasi for a cup of tea. That would be my fifth cup of tea for the night. My butt was aching. Knee joints a bit. Head was still ok. I had suffered a headache in the afternoon driving with the sun on my face. The dialects had changed there. It was almost like the Maithili dialect that the old men at the tea stall were speaking.

The day broke. With lending me the views of the Ganga. The song Wo Lamhe was buzzing in my earphones. It couldn’t had got better. There were reasons why I wanted to visit the Ganga ghats of Varanasi. But really couldn’t have done it then as riots were going on in the city with curfew called up the previous day. I always loved the Ganga ghats there. The evening prayers.

After crossing Varanasi I didn’t keep a notice as to the personal map landmarks, kind of the target spots that I usually fix that I have to reach in allotted time. Dehri sone asansol etc etc. I just kept running. All I kept a watch at was my speedometer. It wasn’t supposed to go below 100kmph. And the distance travelled. I kept matching it with the signboards showing how far Kolkata was. The butt ache was intensifying then. As were my knee joints. Morning time I was swaying with my sleepy eyes for sure. I was remembering the song Sway With Me then. Ha ha.

The Dehri Sone bridge was really a long one. Nothing else was that remarkable on the way. Yeah at Topchanchi there was big lake, boats were seen over it. After that there were hills.

The coconut date palm trees had started long before West Bengal had set in. Yet the touch of West Bengal enriched the beauty of the date palms and coconuts. Durgapur followed by Burdwan. The road was fine, unlike the condition of the road before Burdwan, diversions and constructions at every few kilometers.

Burdwan marked the touch of rain clouds hovering over my head. You are in vicinity of Kolkata and you won’t get to touch rain drops thats not possible. I opened my helmet visor to feel the humid winds on my face. The smell of Kolkata as if. The smell of Bengal. A smile on my face. I was gonna make it then to home before 5 pm. I had made up a good distance since the dawn break at Varanasi. My butt and knee joints had given up.

Just before entering Kolkata, around 20 kms away, I could see the rain slashing at me on the highway ahead. I got down. That was the moment to take out my dslr for few snaps. This trip I hardly bothered for stopping for snaps. Few snaps and the rains snapped by. It was a heavy rain accompanied by a few thunderstorms. The roads had gone vacant. Any rain, worse of the worst ones, I always remember the rain I had braved on my way to Uklana. Nothing compares to that one. Again the rain coat. I had worn the rain coat on my way out of Bharsar cause it was cold then, taken it off at Najibabad, worn it again after Lucknow, took it off after Varanasi, now wore it again. I took it off at Maidan.

If you lash your bike at 120 kmph for 3-4 hrs non stop, the petrol tank is bound to go empty every now and then. That was what happenning with me. All over the trip had cost me 3000 rs. Petrol.

Just on the outskirts of Kolkata a guy was test driving his Aquilla bike, the bike was zooming at 150 plus kmph.

Entered Dakhineshwar to be greeted my traffic. People. Congested roads. People everwhere. I have entered Kolkata. They let me cross the Ganga over the narrow bridge at Dakhineshwar. I could see the temple on  my left while crosssing the bridge. After crossing I asked for directions to Sealdah Station. And then the BT road. The whole journey didn’t break me the way the Kolkata traffic did it to me. 3 hrs it took for me to reach Home after touching Dakhineshwar.

I had forgotten the S.N.Banerjee road, the way to Esplanade. People staring at me and my bike. I asked a person the way to S.N.Banerjee road and in reply he hurled me with his queries, my bike, my job, my trip etc etc. It was traffic jammed road. The person was standing with a crowd waiting to cross the street and still they had the patience to bust me with such series of questions. Another person right in front of me joined him to help him out with questions about my trip. I asked him “where are you going?” “I shall be going to Howrah but I will show you the way to Chowrasta.”

That was one good thing about people in Bengal. Helpful they are. Something just the contradictory of what you shall find in north India.

Yellow cabs. Blue buses. White dressed police men. I am in Kolkata.

The S.N.Banerjee was as usual hell jammed. It was just 4 pm, wasn’t even the office get off time. God knows what happens after 5 pm. The man who wanted to help me out with way to Chowrasta had lost me in that jam of S.N.Banerjee road. I reached Esplanade to breathe some relief, then made way to Maidan, didn’t take the Park Street fearing the jam there. On entering the Maidan area I spotted the 3D bus. This bus used to take me home from my coaching classes at Shyambazar. I wanted to follow it. My curious glances on the bus was caught by its conductor. Accidentally I lost the bus. The bus took a sharp right and I went straight with the traffic. Later understood the route, halted besides the Race Course, to pack up rain coat and clean my face. My face was as if painted with coaltar. At that instance the man who wanted to show me the way to Chowrasta came up to me “Hey I thought I have lost you.. I was looking for you only. Good that you made this far.”

‘Dude I am not a total stranger here.’ I thought to myself. These people had an impression that I had started from Maharashtra and I tour all over India and right now I am in Kolkata. So they all wanted to help me thinking that I am a new comer here. The man did one great thing that he told me wch bridge to take over Khidderpore. I got the Diamond Harbor road after Khidderpore where a bus driver had almost got me down when he wanted to drive on the right side of the road and I kept honking to overtake him. My bike fell on its right resting on the railings, when four men came running to help me. They helped me pick up my bike. First two guys came, when they found the bike was too heavy to be lifted by them,  two more joined in. I bade them thank you, drove ahead to be frisked by the same bus driver who denied me a right pass. He shouted at me asking he didn’t realize that I was caught on to the wrong foot of the road. He said sorry. I said ok, smiled and drove past that bus. Ajanta theatre, Behala thana, Tram depo, Asoka theatre, Manton, Blind school and then Chowrasta. A right turn to the Biren Roy road. I forgot to fly a glimpse at my old gym infront of Housing. A left turn from Muchipara, to Sarsuna College. The lake stood as beautiful as always. The 18 D bus stand, left, right, right, left to view my Aunt’s home, right, right, left, left, left, left. Home.

My eyes were as if I was stoned hard. I watched the football match with my heavy eyes, my brain had as if stopped functioning. Happiness of the evening was taking the shower. Warm water. It was lukewarm. For me it was great. For the past four months at Uttarakhand I would take bath once on two three days.

So that ended my journey. The motorcycle did well.

You know what happiness is... Happiness is reading some pages of a novel on highway roadside, or eating an apple, on the side of highway, where green fields surround you. Just straight roads where the drivers hardly bother what you do. You now know how cold the mountains are. Cause you have been there. You know the value of warmth. And you know whats its like to drive through 45 degrees. You know landslides, cold rains. So a warm sunshine of the October skies seems beautiful to you.

Road to Uklana

Time was around 3 am. Mobile alarm woke me up. I had put consecutive three alarms just in case if I miss any one of them. Prabhat chaudhary, my flat partner, had instructed me to wake him up when I leave. First thing I checked after waking up, was the weather. I gazed out of my window. It was dark. Cold. Windy. I was searching for any rain drops sounds. As if I was sniffing for rain drops. And it was present. That was a nightmare.

I didn’t had to pump up myself to dare to go out into such a weather because I was mentally prepared. Exactly speaking I was pissed of these road blocks caused due to landslides caused again due to these incessant rains. It had twice the month of june that I adventured out only to return back to Bharsar due to roadblock. I was gradually developing a hatred for these mountains.

Anyway. I got freshened up. The only thing running in my head was to how to reach Delhi before 11 am. That would be really a difficult job coz Bharsar to Delhi was around 600 kms that also through the mountains. Plan was to reach Hisar on Thursday, no matter what, be it even late night. Nikita did instruct not to come late night, to arrive by evening. I said yeah I will try. Then to Amritsar, from Hisar, and the return would be through Chandigarh Dehradun or Haridwar. Prabhakar was waiting to meet me at Haridwar. Nothing would really matter much once I hit the plains. What I was excited about was that I was going to ride my bike on the plains again.. after a month. And I was going to a warm place. People on the mountains would complain that Srinagar is hot, Kotdwar is hot. I would tell them your bloody mountains are too cold to live around.

Packed up my saddle bag. Put my dslr in the left pocket of saddle bag. Two bottle of water to drink. Rest clothes for the trip. Wore the raincoat incase the rain hits me. It was definitely cold outside. Prabhat woke up. He accompanied me to my bike. Then I told him to go back to sleep, he returned. I switched on the headlights. And my bloody ass, the fog. It was literally too much. Really hazy. Looked like the scenes from the movie Raaz. It started raining as soon as I pushed the ignition switch. Rode steadily to the gates, where I started honking continuously to wake up the gate keeper. He came running at me. I told him I heading for Delhi and I told him my bike number. He said he would note it down. He then bade me goodbye. And the rain got heavy. Really heavy. It took a few minutes for the waters to get into my woodland shoes soaking up the socks. I could feel the coldness creeping into my skin. The temperature would have been around 8 degrees. The vapor on my specs was obstructing my view. Along with that the rain. I drove really slow. And then, I spotted a fox. It was finding it hard to find out a way in the cold rain when my bike lights blinded its view. The road upto Notha was ok. The death ride started after that. Road blocks. Luckily they weren’t heavy. Some mud with some stones. I could ride my bike over them. There were three spots like that. Then came a spot with big rocks. Luckily those fucking rocks kept gap in between them for me to make my way out. The rain kept thundering the ears. The fog kept dirtying my specs. The cold waters kept freezing the sensations. The fear of skidding in the rain coated roads kept the tense high. And the mountain edge on the side, the river was as if waiting for me to get a slip. Accompanied with that the darkness. It was never easy to drive through cold rains on a plain road. Imagine riding in cold mountain rains with fog and landslides at night through the twisted roads of mountains. I was feeling tiredness creeping into me before Pabo only. I was waiting for the dawn to break out. The rain was heavy. And the downstream river water was roaring, indicating there have been great rain water volume coming down the mountains. I tried looking up the mountains to search for the daylights, none. I was waiting for the mountain top margins to peak out of the lighted up sky. It was dark. Somehow I reached Pabo. There I took a stop. Ahead laid two ways for me. The short cut would be the less travelled road not showing on map, that would save me one hour time approx. The long cut was the national highway through Pauri to Kotdwar to delhi. I wanted to reach Delhi as soon as possible. And I took the short cut. That was where I dug the axe into my own feet. While moving towards the shortcut, I spotted one jcb, fully lighted up, coming from the way towards Pauri. I was sure the jcb fellow must have cleaned up the road on that side. I had spotted two more jcbs while coming to Pabo. I still headed out to the short cut route. The road was dirty. Mud had covered the road totally. I kept away from the edge. Problem was created by the rocks. Landslide was going on at the moment. That road was a one way pass. I had travelled hardly three kilometers onto that dirty road when my bike skid throwing me on the road. It was a hard fall. Luckily I fell on the mud so I got up well. I had injured my left pects and shoulder. My two water bottles were thrown out into the mud. The mud was so thick that I had to search for my water bottles in it. I got up mud drenched. Lifted the bike. The bike was lying a few centimeters from the edge. That was the horror point. A fall from the edge would have been of unimaginable circumstances. I straightened up, sat back on the bike. It got a little bright with dawn lights. I could see the mud constantly flowing down the mountain side with the rain bringing few rock pieces also alongwith. One thought did hit me, what if I go back. If I go back, the tour will get washed away just the same way it has been happening past one month. I told myself I am not going back. Headed forward to find even bigger pieces of rocks lying. Slowly steadily drove over them. Rode around seven kilometers from Pabo to find a real big road block with massive sized rocks blocking the road. I don’t know what had got into my head then that I got down from my bike to walk upto the rocks and trying to move them. Some moved. The really big ones didn’t move an inch. I came back to my bike with a frustrated face. Made a u turn cursing the Bharsar people who had suggested me to take this road. Rode three kilometers back to reach the point where I had seen smaller rock pieces, this time there were bigger pieces lying. I was wondering if the landslide was still going on, when I heard banging noise behind me. I thought it could be my engine, when a rock weighing around 15 kgs rolled down the mountain, bounced, to fall on my left thigh. The mountain was on my right side and the river was on my left. How lucky I was that the rock fall anywhere else on me or my bike could have meant worse. A gush of fear struck me and I immediately accelerated to ride out of the danger zone. I didn’t even think to look back. Reached back to Pabo. Took the way to Pauri. The thing ticking me in my head was if the camera was ok. Cause I had fallen on my left side and the dslr was in my left saddle bag pocket. It was raining so I didn’t dare to open up the bag. Moreover I was mud drenched. The whole way to Pauri was deserted. Not a single vehicle was visible. That made an impression about the possibilities of a roadblock ahead. And there were some roadblocks. Flowing wet soft mud with rocks of all sizes. The mud created fear of slipping chances for the bike tyres. Yet I crossed them all. Then came a waterfall. The road wasn’t visible. So I got down of my bike to walk and see the road condition. 

The current of the water flow was strong enough to make me think if it would be safe to put the bike into that. Again I thought of going back. The water stream was bounded by mud and rocks ahead. Slowly and very slowly I put the bike tyres in the water stream. Everything was ok. Then make another herculean task of riding up on the pile of mud, where the tyres did skid a bit. But I had steadily balanced my legs on both sides. My shoes had completely disappeared into the mud pile. I kept accelerating slowly. And the bike came out of the mud. The happiness was so much that I started smiling and laughing loudly all alone. The front scene dismayed my happiness. A tree had fallen on the road. Again. First thought of returning back. I negated myself. I thought of the happiness of driving through the warm dry straight roads of Haryana. Then I thought either I will clear this tree or will wait right here for the jcb. I knew the jcbs will be around somewhere because the day had just broken and the road transport wouldn’t have sat silent looking at such roadblocks. Pauri was visible ahead. The town would look like a big ant community built on a steep side of a mountain. I took out my knife walked upto the tree and started cutting the loose branches, bending and breaking the rest. In all I cleared a way out for the bike. Ahead I could see another tree lying in the same very condition. I wanted to clear this tree first. I did. The bike vroomed through the branches. It did the same for the second tree block too. 

After I came out of those two I saw vehicles lined up waiting for the jcbs to come up. The people in the vehicle were staring at my bike and my clothes. My left hand was blood stained. It was paining. People could make out that I had accident. I asked for the road to Kotdwar and they showed me the left turn. The rain had ceased down a bit then. Road from pauri to Kotdwar was a good one. Lots of interstate vehicles were seen rolling and that view brought a joyful smile on my face. I could see the mountains rocks sliding down at some places but they were not bulky enough to cause any road block specially because the road was a two way highway. I was riding ok until I met another accident. It was a sharp right turn downhill and my bike was speeding. The gear and brakes and the handle had already been screwed by the first accident. At the sharp end of the right turn I could figure out that my bike was not gonna make it. If I would have tried hard it would skid on the road and I knew how hard abrasions lacerations such high speed skids offer. I thought otherwise and rode the bike to the rock wall infront. I was trying to speed down but the damn bike would wouldn’t. The clutch was not working properly after the first fall. The bike rode up the rocks to hit the mountain wall. I don’t know how I escaped unhurt. My left foot was caught in between the rocks and the bike. I slowly walked out of that. Waited for the guys who were coming behind me to help me cause the bike was struck in the rocks. I showed them my hand and the guys stopped. They helped me bring the bike back on the roads. It was them who indicated that bike front had got dashed against the rocks. The headlight was broken and the meter box was hanging on its left side. The leg guard had moved so much behind that it had pushed  the gear pad up. There was a bit of problem with the brakes. I had hit on my right fist. It was paining as if there was fracture in it. The total distance travelled on the meter had vanished. The bike key had got twisted. The indicators had been hit. After looking at all this I was simply standing there and thinking if it was really possible to make it to Nikita’s home by the sunset. I was thinking of junking the bike towards Bharsar, with no hopes I just rotated the keys and to my big surprise the bike vroomed up. I just broke down to a burst of laughter. I sat back on the bike and vroomed towards Delhi. I don’t know how but it was a bit more comfortable to drive now compared to after the first accident of the day. I had driven some ten kilometers that I met another landslide spot where the rocks had just fallen on the broad highway and I hit a big rock. That bent my leg guard even more making it even tougher for me keep my left leg now. After a while I got down and did the very same thing that I had done after my first accident. I sat down on the road facing the bike, fixed my left leg on the bottom platform of the bike, gripped the leg guard with my hands and pulled it with all my strength. Left hand was bleeding from the first accident, right hand was aching as if fractured. I was total mud drenched. The bike was a broken. All over I made a scene to be stared. And if I had told the stare gazers that I was gonna drive another  600 kilometers in that condition that would have surely given someone a shock. The passerby people told me the nearest bike mechanic would be available in another 20 kms ride. I did that. On stopping near the mechanic’s shop, people crowded around me with tons of questions, some praising the bike some cursing road and the weather some advising me about landslides some wishing me well for the rest of my journey. The cars halting there had come from delhi as I could see their DL number plates. That did bring a little joy for me but the injuries where really aching now. The mechanic took fifty rupees and wished me well for the rest of my journey. The twisted roads didn’t stop although the landslide prone mountains had ceased. I had entered the jungle area around Satpuli when I spotted a fox easing on the road side. I was wishing very badly for the roads to go downhill now. I was dying to hit the straight highways of the plains. The roads went downhill constantly after I entered the area around Lansdowne. Finally came Kotdwar. End of the mountains. I was very happy when I saw a bumper cause I knew that I had entered plain roads where overspeeding was common and that’s why there was a bumper. Mountains never had bumpers. It felt I had stepped back on planet earth. The feeling was beautiful. No more twists and turns. There were people around. Buzzing and chirping. People gossiping and shouting. It was beautiful. All I had to do now was to speed up.

Kotdwar made way for Najifabad. On the highway I had made one stop to get the tyres checked which showed less air pressure adding to the suspicion of puncture. The handle was dangling a bit. At one air check centre the whole family had out to see me and my bike and they even had offered me tea and povidone cream for my wounds which I rejected saying that I was in hurry. There was right turn showing way to Haridwar. That was the way in case the Devprayag way to Pauri got blocked. The Kotdwar way was far better than the Devprayag route. Najifabad made way for Bijnor followed by highway to Meerut. The Ganga river did cross in between. It was very big. On entering Meerut I had to enquire at every turn the way to Delhi cause Meerut was a big town. Every now and then people would ask how the bike got hit. I had got pissed of answering to that. By now my wounds had dried up and so did the mud on my clothes. The noon was hot at Meerut. Someone advised me to get the meter work done at Meerut and that’s how I wasted my one hour in the town. Half an hour to search that royal enfield showroom and another half an hour at the stupid useless Meerut royal enfield service centre. Then finally left Meerut for Delhi. The only worthy thing about Meerut that caught my eye was that the town had a lot of sports and gym equipment shops. It was at Meerut that I decided to cancel Amritsar, just pay Nikita a visit, return back to Delhi and then do whatever you want to cause the bike was then required to be left at service centre for some ten days or so as insurance stuff came up. Guys had told the bike could possibly make to Delhi from Meerut, not knowing that I was gonna bang it to Haryana.

I expected for the town area to end before the Delhi township would start. But it didn’t. It was difficult to mark from where Delhi exactly started.

I had to keep checking air pressure of my tyres every two hours. Meanwhile Nikita’s messages started coming in enquiring about my whereabouts. I had touched Delhi around 3 pm. It took almost twelve hours from Bharsar to Delhi. One hour wasted at Meerut and another hour could be due to the bad roads conditions that day. That would have brought me to Delhi in ten hours. I took the way straight from infront of Dilshad Garden to Nangloi. Kept asking the way to Rohtak but always got confused answers. So I finally trusted my mobile gps map which seldom worked. The traffic congested roads of Delhi did ache my right arm. Though Delhi roads were far better than Kolkata roads.

One funny incident happened while I was caught in the traffic signal near Pashchim Bagh metro. I was just standing and waiting for the traffic lights to go green, when I guy from behind knocked on my left shoulder asking “excuse me sir, is this a modified version or original one?” I broke into a burst of laughter saying “it’s the basic model.” I don’t know who was crazier, the guy or my bike.

Nikita kept asking where I was and I would tell her let me walk out of the dirty Delhi traffic first. After coming out of Delhi, the Rohtak highway welcomed me to drive at my best speed. Nikita said I won’t be able to make it to her home before 10 pm. I said I shall be doing it by 8 pm. I had to cover the maximum possible distance before the night fall cause my headlights were out of tune. Crossed Rohtak to reach out for Meham. I was exhausted. The day was a.. I don’t know what to say. I had walked out of my flat at 3:30 am into the nightmarish mountains, after two accidents with the bike and myself half wounded, still driving at my best speed to make it to somewhere around Hisar.

“Once you reach Hansi, take right turn to Parwala..”

“Parwala???”

“Barwala.. B for bar.. spell it Bar wala”

That was a humor joke in midst of the tired road.

“I stay at Uklana.”

Now what kind of name is that. Uklana. At some places I would end up asking “Ulkana kidhar hai?” Then the people would rectify me as Uklana. Sounded like Ukulele. Ukulele songs of Eddie Vedder. I never heard any song from his that album, but Eddie songs do suit the best on such loner trips.

I was just wondering where the hell am I going. I just had to keep on driving and reach somewhere safe before my bike breathes out. I was definitely exhausted. I wanted someone to give me painkillers and a bed. Hadn’t eaten anything from the morning. That was something surprising me too. I didn’t like taking stops. Usually what irritated me was how, with so much efforts I overtake some heavy loaded trucks or buses and when I take a halt I watch them going ahead of me again creating another task for me to overtake them again. Adding to that I was thinking of having a hair cut before landing at Nikita’s doorway. Good that I had got my beard shaven. What was I doing at Bharsar rest of the time as I could have got a hair cut there itself.

“Don’t go to Hisar. Give me a call when you reach Hansi. I will tell you the raasta..”

That gave me some what condolence that I don’t have to go upto Hisar now. I thought my destination had been neared up not realizing that Uklana is 50 kms from Hansi.

I stopped somewhere after Meham to relax me gluteus and to ask how far is Hansi. A young lad walked upto me asking if I could give him a lift. I said come on. I hoped he will go upto Hansi and tell me that Uklana is nearby somewhere. It was 8 pm. The night had crept in. The boy got down at some village 10 kms before Hansi telling me it would take me three hours minimum to reach Uklana from there cause the roadways take that much time. I thought in my mind ‘fuck off asshole I will reach in one hour.’ The boy wished me a safe journey. Throughout the route with him he kept eating my ears as to how can he find a promising job. The guy had done Bsc from some local institute and didn’t want to study further. I told him to become a school teacher. At that he replied that teachers don’t get good salary and he wants more. I realized I got a moron seated on my pillion seat.

After reaching Hansi, I was almost done. I don’t know how but my gazes searched for a hotel worth staying for one night. Uklana was surely 50 kms from Hansi and it was 8:30 pm. The headlights were aching my head more than my limbs. My specs had mud on them. And I didn’t have a single piece of clean clothe to wipe it off. Adding to the remorse, it was drizzling at Hansi. Over all the road till Hansi, from Delhi, was really beautiful. Big broad highway with green fields on both sides. The climate was warm. It was probably the best thing I could have asked for while driving. The highway dust doesn’t hit your face in such a wonderful weather. Unlike my trips through M.P Maharashtra in summer where the dust had to be kept out by putting on the helmet glasses full time on the ride, I preferred to ride with the helmet half open. Maybe this wouldn’t have been the scenario had I hit this very same road in May. Haryana was beautiful. With my night vision limited upto a few meters owing to the bad head lights, I still drove at the best possible speed just imagining the roads to be ok. And the roads really were good. With the rainy season greening up the road sides with pretty fields, it left me wondering how beautiful it would be driving in West Bengal at that time of the year. The date palms, coconuts, paddy fields with the water filled lakes and the occasional rain clouds hovering with the humid wind would make travelling in Bengal a beautiful walk through a Tagore song. Bengal is different. You will never the dusty winds there at any time of the year. It will always be humid.

“betta yahaan se seedddhe jao.. kuch tees kilometers.. bas seedddhe .. kahi matt murna .. to Barwala pahunchh jaoge”

“uske baad Uklana k liye uncle?”

“barwala pahunchh k… daayein ko murr jana . . kuch 15 – 20 kilometers  me Uklana pahunchh jaoge”

I didn’t know what to do. I just stood in Hansi market, at the right turn towards Barwala wondering whether to make the further ride. Called up Nikita

“Arnab aa jana .. thoda sa hi to door hai .. tere liye chicken bana k wait kar rhe hai hum sab ”

I gave her a heavy toned assertion. Usually even I wasn’t expecting to give up on a ride as such but somehow the day had killed me. I realized I was driving 18 hours non stop. The last time I made such a long hours bike ride was a quick trip from Melghat to wardha and return after getting the first servicing done at Amravati. That was a 21 hours ride with no sleep, but I did take halts in it to get the servicing done and I had watched Piku. This Uklana trip was surely a killing one. No halts. Continuous driving. It would have been far better one if the accidents hadn’t happened. With that I took the first sip of the day, a cold drink at Hansi before setting out for Uklana.

The road was ok. I just kept driving. Nothing around was visible. I was wondering what it would really look like to walk into a girl’s home for the first time mud drenched. With that I remembered the Kurt Cobain song ‘Come as you are .. as a friend .. as I always want you to be .. come doused in mud .. soaked in bleach .. as an old memoria ..’ And I did start singing that song while driving. The song stuck chords at that moment. It was then I realized I didn’t even feel like plug in my earphones and shuffle during this ride. I just wanted to drive and drive and reach as soon as possible. Plug in the song Drive from Incubus if you want. Ha ha.

Reached Barwala, enquired and took right turn to Uklana. A sign board peaked up showing Uklana 19 kms. I kept driving. I think I had spotted a sambhar on the roadside. God knows what it was. Reached a crossroad, after enquiring I was gonna take the left turn when a guy walked upto me asking for lift. I fired the first question at him “How far is Uklana from here?” “5 mints.” “Sit.”

“aap pehli baar Uklana aa rhe ho?”

“yup.”

“rehne wale kaha k ho.”

“uttarakhand se aa raha hoon.”

“itne door se kya kaam pe?”

“aap Doctor Vipin Bhugra ko jaante hai?”

“haan wo to hamare padosi hai.”

Ah! I finally caught a big fish at the end of the day.

Rest of the five minutes I explained to the guy how my bike accident happened. Left turn from the bus stand, through the waters, into a colony, left left right right, and I had reached my destination. Bade the fellow goodbye. Looked around. Reminded me of the Sindhi locality lanes of Bilaspur. The houses won’t leave space for gardens although you are not in a costly area like Delhi. Every house would have a grilled gate right infront touching the road. I am in Haryana buddy. Welcome me, I am a new comer.

I was inspecting the neighborhood, was confused cause there were two houses with big name plates of Doctor Vipin Bhugra. I decided to call up on the phone and ask. Nikita’s call came in. Madam was standing on the roof.

Uncle came out. Showed me a very handsome parking space for my bike. And then, a grand hospitality. I entered like a shitty guy. Who would be wearing a dirty rain coat on a dry night. I had worn it back cause I was feeling cold and rest of my clothes were wet. Jugnu, their black Labrador gave me another warm welcome with lots of licks. I always had a good rapport with dogs. Opened up my bag to find every damn thing wet. Their attendant’s name was Shaktimaan. This family was a fun filled family. Really. The house was an old one according to Nikita, but in reality, it was too well furnished. I was dying to get cleaned up. I was offered the clothes of Arjun, Nikita’s younger bro, and the clothes were bigger for me as expected cause the brother was a six feet tall fellow. They had heavy dumbles, weight plates, barbells lying around the house. And then Nikita took me to the first floor to show me the official study room which had lots of novels and other books and a beautiful punching sac. I just wished such a house could have been mine and what if my parents had granted me these bodybuilding stuffs. A beer and deliciously cooked chicken at the dinner tables with uncle. It was Thursday, Nikita’s fast. It was a good way to end the day to be remembered forever. I took some pain killer pills. It was difficult for me to bend my index finger of the right hand, it was swollen. Finally retired to bed.

Next day morning, uncle broke the news that they had to leave to Gurgaon by afternoon, so I had to leave by noon time. Took Jugnu for a refreshment walk outside. It was a market place around. At night it seemed like some quiet locality. I had arrived also at 9:30 pm the previous night. Anyway. I was happy to find people around, to talk to them. Shaktimaan made some awesome parathas. And one milk shake something like that I don’t remember the name. Nikita then told the story how Jugnu got named by Arjun. This gossip that gossip. Finally noon time came. Our gossips finally ended with Nikita suspecting if I wanted to become like Sean Penn character from the movie Walter Mitty. I loved how he stood over an aircraft to shoot an erupting volcano in the movie. Then Nikita showed me a Gn’R t-shirt with a back print written Appetite for Democracy, precisely that was how they joined Appetite for destruction, GnR’s first album and Chinese Democracy, their last album. I was just gonna tell her the interesting stories of Axel Rose, but she left saying “the front man wahi hai na jiske lambe baal hai.”

“lambe baal to har kisi k hote aise bands me re.”

And another mention at Sweet child O’Mine, at which Nikita snapped that I had mentioned about the song twice that morning. The music video of the song would start with a black lab sitting before Slash goes into the intro part. Nikita introduced me to the Golden Quadrilateral term, a group of national highways across India.

I left after having my lunch. Shaktimaan had packed me aloo parathas which Nikita had suggested me to eat on the highway, which I knew I would be eating at my dinner time at Delhi. It was bound to get cold. Met one sardarji uncle while tying up my saddle bags to the bike. He greeted me saying he is a leftist and since I hail from West Bengal so we both are leftist. I really didn’t want to tell him that I didn’t like politics much. He started with Mamata Banerjee, I started with Jyoti Basu, I didn’t want to go into Maa Maati and Maanush stuffs of TMC. Overall the sardarji uncle was a fine gentleman. Guess his name was some Harvindar Singh, I don’t remember exactly. Bade everyone goodbye.

Now I was tension free. I was free as if even if the bike did even break down on the way back to Delhi, it wouldn’t matter to me much. I didn’t feel like going back to the mountains. Nikita’s house was awesome. The people around were good too. There was a barber near Nikita’s home who blabbered too much, saying that I would love his hair cut work so much that I would return back to Uklana for another hair cut from him. He said Nikita’s dad loved gazal, when I returned and told the same to uncle, uncle said the barber was a madman.

Did give lift to another person while on my way back from Barwala to Hansi.

Usually the people you meet on highways are good people, people around the village sides. Nice people here in Haryana. Not like the people you would find around in U.P or M.P..

I had to speed up to enter the Delhi premises before the darkness set in. I think I fired my 
Thunderbird at 125 kmph on Rohtak highway. I didn’t have meter box to record that. But it was a great speed. The bike from nowhere showed any signs that it was struck by landslides. That was a royal enfield stuff. Nikita’s dad showed the people around him my bike and told them that it had travelled 900 kms from Uttarakhand. I really wished to tell everyone that my thunderbird had gone 6000 kms in 60 days, coming from Amravati. Sadly the meter box gone with the total distance travelled data.

Entered Delhi, took the ring road to aiims, actually took right turn to green park metro before aiims. And my buddy Prashant Singh was waiting for me there.

“arey ye kya haalat banaa rakha hai bike ka.. ye to avenger jaisi lag rahi hai..”

“saale gaali mat de bike ko”

“arey iski meter box udh gayi tabhi ajeeb lag rahi hai”

We both laughed. It was 9 pm.

Went to Prashant’s room. It was difficult to find a parking space for my bike that night. Opened Shaktimaan’s parcel and ate the aaloo parathas. It did become cold. Reported back to Nikita about my Delhi reach.

Next day, it was difficult to find the patparganj royal enfield service centre, eventually found it, driving happily through water filled wide streets of Delhi. It was happy heavy rain that morning. Found Satyendar kain that evening. Met everyone around gautam nagar. Gautam nagar scenarios made me remember the Talwandi days of Kota. Talwandi had pmt iit aspirants and gautam nagar had pg aspirants. Students everywhere. A rat race. Hurdle phases are always hard.

Had one grand night at My Bar headquarters with Prashant and Barjesh Mehta. Rest of the few days spent roaming around Chandni chowk, Red fort and the Saket mall. Nikita had suggested to visit Hauj Khas, even Prashant said so, but Nikita meant to visit the bars and Prashant meant to visit some old mausoleum and the lake there. Met Navneet a day before leaving Delhi. Buddy is married, stays with his wife. Look man, we have grown up. Ha ha. Nine years back we would find out ways to escape raging at Jnbh, back in July 2006. Here we are in July 2015 I visit my married friend’s home. Buddy is in final year pg at Ucms.

Made my way back to Bharsar via bus, leaving my motor cycle at Delhi for repair.

On returning recirted my tales about my trip to everyone and heard stories how people died on that short cut route from Pabo to Kotdwar, just in landslides, over the past years, some crushed, some thrown into the river.

Whatever.

Like Kawalkar would say “remember those accidents, but don’t fear to go out again.”

Rishi said to write down a blog in 555 words. Either the guy was joking or he is gone crazy.

On my way back from Uklana, I had made up my mind to write ‘Road to Uklana’.

Because the name would seem as if of some South American village or town. Like Nikita used to say Semadoh would sound like European place. South America would bring back the memories of Motorcycle Diaries of Che Guevara. And that name would remind me of Prashant singh lamenting at how everytime I would get drunk I would tell him about the motor cycle diaries of Che Guevara. I would tell him a lot more things every time I got drunk though. Drink sessions have changed some what since Melghat. My Bar was a fantastic place to be at. The singer sang some awesome tracks. The guy wouldn’t sing any English track or any Kailash Kher track as I requested. But the other song requests were really good once. Jeeyein Kyon, O Meri Jaan from Metro, Gulabi Aakhein, Raabta, Kyon track from Barfi.. etc, overall the tracks were awesome to hit a drunk person. I think it was Ghul Mil Launda from Bhag Milka Bhag, in which we danced. I had lost my senses at that time. 

At the end of the night when the guy was gonna leave, the youngsters pressed him to sing more, more request tracks were coming, the problem was all of them were boozed. I was standing of the singer’s deck, not able to think clearly owing to the four beers, when a girl came up on my side with a request for Hotel California. Wow. What a track to be requested. I accompanied her to request the guy to sing the same. But eventually the fellow ended the night with Bon Jovi’s Its My Life.. Not quite a goodbye track, yet a good choice.

Overall, it was a nice ride, out of the mountains. Didn’t make it to the Golden Temple as attempted, but did step into a Gurudwara first time in my life at Chandni chowk.

25 July 2015

Mountain Filler

These days are like writing a lot and updating less.

Finally could make a trip round Dehradun. The forest areas between Dehradun and Rishikesh show a lot of Beware of Wild Elephants signboards, but really there aren’t any elephant sightings. Last night was my second trip up the mountains to Bharsar made at night. It was 10 pm. Was expecting to see a tiger or a leopard more precisely speaking, but ended up spotting a big Porcupine running in the middle of the street between Pauri and Pabo. The quills were really big. The first sight made me think it to be some bush on the mid road, on nearing spotted the porcupine trying to run as fast as possible, probably after hearing my bike sound nearing it. It erected its quills even more when my bike neared it. The problem with these wild animals is that initially you are dying to spot one, and when you finally spot one, the very first thought that hits the mind is fear.

At that, I should quote the one dialogue of Will Smith from After Earth “Fear is not real, danger is real.”

This line ought to be taught to distraught Bharsar people who literally pronounce way too many ghost stories around. “Kvk me bhoot hai. A block me bhoot hai. C block me bhoot hai.” People at Bharsar don’t have anything better to do either.

Its 5^th September. Finally brought gym equipments at the boys’ hostel here. Really not that sure about the longevity of the stuffs but all I can think is the stuffs will work well till the time I am posted here.

I really wanted to take a dip the river at Byasi. Its wonderful down there. The rocky river beds. The sands and gravel. The river flows wild. The waters were dirty on account of the landslides by the mountain rains.

Riding bike downhill was again another herculean task yesterday specially when I had a pillion rider and a hurry to reach Dehradun as soon as possible. Should have left Bharsar before 5:30 am. It was already hell cold that morning. I could conclude one thing – I love riding my bike alone. The 350 cc can take you anywhere round the globe. And ideas of taking Thejus Jacob on my bike, Naah. The man weighs 80 kgs plus man. Last time I had felt a bike sulking due to a heavy pillion rider was Akash’s Pulsar 200 dipping to my utter wonder, when Ankur Kariya pressed his arse on the back seat. The bike just wouldn’t spree up like it usually did.

Akash was the one who had taught me bike riding. And one damn great line I will always remember he spoke “feel the bike, feel the engine, it will tell everything what you have to do when.”

My 350 cc wouldn’t produce any grunts when I am alone and the road is an earth bound road. Mountain roads carry my despise. Well Thejus’s FZ does swing freely a lot more better than my bike on the mountains. Come on, mine is a cruiser fellow, a 200 kgd. Something you go out on long straight plain highways, sitting straight up, aviator shades on, your scarf flying by your neck, and you look at the sunset, with a smile on your face, you reflect back at your life, as the air caresses your face, and you can pick up the line “Feels like God..” This was the line used by Avenger fellows but it really suits better on other, I mean the real cruiser bikes, be it the Triumph Thunderbird or the Royal Enfield one or any Harley stuff. Avenger was the toddler cruiser.

Bit of confusing while gendering my Thunderbird. Buddy makes it male and Rani makes it female. Usually while addressing to others, specially women, about my bike, I tell them “my bike is my queen”. Otherwise I love calling it ‘Buddy’. That’s one dub I very frequently whisper on my rides. On such long roads, its just you and your vehicle. You love going distances and your bike makes it sure that you go fine. The cumbersome stuff is stopping every now and then to take out the dslr out of its nest and click. Really remember the wishful words of Nikita “if the eyes could take snaps.” Her that line was followed by another thoughtful line “you shouldn’t keep taking pictures of everything, some moments are to be preserved in memories only.” Contradicting to this concept was Akash, everytime, “sir.. photo”. That was irritating.

Wishing a fine a ride to home, coming October 10^th. Hope it becomes possible. This time I will sit at some nice Bengal corner and listen to Rabindra Sangeet. You miss it really. It goes somewhat like the phrase – when it was raining you wanted the rain to go away and when the rains really went off you start missing them. When you are in Kolkata, you really don’t like it much. Congestion. People. People. Everywhere. Buses. Yellow cabs. Narrow dingy streets. Vegetable wastes lying around. Flies. Crows. Kolkata is famous for crows. No movie shot in Kolkata would be complete without that crow calling. And the sweat. It would really make you wish – why can’t I be in some better place than this. And then, when we leave that Bengal city, we, means Bengalis. Not much sure about others but I miss the people of out there, the Bengali speeches. Everyone has special love for their mother tongue for sure. Bengalis won’t abuse much. Maybe because the language is really that formal. Like we usually see in the north India, no dialects will ever be complete without a mc bc bkl, or bdk, the most non vulgar among all the abuses. The people who utter such honorable words are mostly the young males, but it ranges from kids, even girls, to the older sections of the society, even if the person is a doctor or the dean. People in north care less, people in Bengal care more. Maybe the brain of Bengali people secret too much emotion creating hormones. Ha ha ha. And then the Bengali people would write something, something like a poem, or, anything.. like I am writing, I love writing, so pardon me. Bengalis would then sing some songs. But the real creations filled with essence were done by Tagore only. After that, millions have been writing billions, but nothing as beautiful as Tagore stuffs.

I wanted to grow beard like Tagore but these college people had me shaved. I don’t know what’s wrong with the people up here on the mountains. They don’t get a mouthful beard or what their god knows. A few people you may spot having bit of moustaches but that also would come in patches. Funny people.

So. The trigger factor for biking out to insane miles, is to keep your ass glued to the hospital seat so long that the worms really start itching under your skin so much that you are even ready to jump off a high flying aero plane, just for thrill. Mad.

Its just some kind of mind set. To go out roaming. You don’t care. You love seeing places. Even if there are dangers of being attacked by an wild animal, or falling off the cliff, or being manhandled by a group of hooligans, or suffering a crash down at some no man’s land. Really did the life take a turn like this? You don’t like things. You don’t like what the people do with you. Its just not upto your aspirations. You have tried your level best at times. Still certain things never worked. And you were never ready to accept the otherwise outcome. You love being free. You don’t like what they tell you to do. You just don’t care. Something again what Nikita had said “what if you died at the accident”. I was like “so what.” “what do you mean by so what.” “who cares what happens after being dead.” “your parents care arnab, what about them.” It needs a real touch madness to reply ‘so what’ after that line of hers.

Lets check the otherwise side of the above paragraph. If any wild animal comes, you got the dslr, you click pics, wonderful achievement man. How many people in this world get to do that. Most of the people fear animals at places where the animal isn’t even present, and even if present, give me a ‘So What’ please. You are also an animal. You are actually on the top of the food chain. You had amusements of being an X Men, a mutant, or some superhero created by the great Stan Lee. So be that. Become Wolverine, for a moment as if. Face the bear. Show it that you are also an animal. I think its getting insane now. Ha ha. Precisely, the tiger is rare. But, if you happen to carry a big worm in ass, you go into places where a normal man wouldn’t go, and you encounter the tiger, in reality, then.. then take out your damn dslr and click the tiger man. Ha ha ha. What else can you plan for an once in a blue moon happening. Exact words would be – fight. That’s the one thing that applies for all situations. Except something like falling off the mountain road. That is something that won’t give you your life back I think. Mountain roads are villainous. Straight down the hill side, you and your vehicle, jumping down, hitting on every rock on the way, rolling, and finally thrashing on a plain, or the river, the river doesn’t forgive anyone here on the mountains. Only that lucky God of these people might be knowing what prompts these people to worship this river like anything. Really, no Gods ever lived on the mountains. Man climbed mountains just to fuck nature. Moving off the topic. So our scenario was what’s its like to be falling off the mountain. Again think of the great Hollywood. Remember how Vin Diesel does it in XXX. Just play the track ‘Let the body set the thump.’ Then you are famous as John Rambo. Think about how Sylvester Stallone jumps off the cliff to get hold on a tree. Otherwise wait to watch Point Break. And if you are crashed in a no man’s land, that’s most wonderful honeymoon out of all these. Think of Cast Away. Or if you are two people, one boy one girl, Blue Lagoon, Seven Days Seven Nights. Put all that crap aside. Think like Jeremy Renner in Bourne Legacy. How can someone walk out of that ice cold water.  

Today is Janmashtami. I miss the handi phod at hometown. People at my campus were searching me today morning waiting to take donations from me. I remember my Mom’s words for these kind of people “bastards will take money and drink alcohol.” Got an invitation from temple people to come over at evening. Well, today my new temple has been set, waiting for me, finally a bench press at the gym.

Bringing Buddy Back

Sometimes. Sometimes taking these roads, push you to ponder over stuffs that came in and went out of your life. And sometimes, you have to push yourself to put your brains into something because the roads start taking toll over you.

I picked up Buddy from the Delhi service centre on 3^rd August. I had gone to see Buddy’s condition the previous day. It was a total make over. The tank was new. The headlights. The meter box. The handle. The front wheel. Everything new came in. While making my way into the service centre my eyes were searching for the MH27BK0742 number plate with the Doctor’s sign beneath it.

The month ago I was dying to get the bike designed to kill. Now. I was like, I am just happy to be alive. Two months back I had planned the Himalayan trip with just a nowhere eccentric idea to step out into the unknown. Just knowing that people do it. Some. Just some people. Driving out into the lonely dark highways around the Chambal ghati or the U.P riot struck border areas, or if that sounds easy for you, driving out into the dead of the night in the hell cold rains for a mountain ride. I was making my way to the gym in my campus through the short cut way through the jungle when I realized the words of my pharmacist Nautiyal “sir uttarakhand ki matti hai, ispe kabhi vishwas mat karna.” Those are the extremely slippery mud. A person can well slip down the inclination just in a standing position. When this mud attaches to your bike tyres and your bike weighs 200 kgs, the road is flowing with water, every now and then you bike tyres encounter the landslide mud, the chances of skidding down the mountain goes really high. And if even that sounds easy to you, imagine heavy rocks raining on you. A slip down the edge in a season like that means an absolute death.

Insanity sometimes just creeps into you like anything. Like blowing your head for a rank in your class. Or blowing your career for some emotional shit piece. Or something like this. You don’t know the limits or you just don’t care, that’s what defines insanity. Not exactly the words of Chris Hemsworth, from Rush, “the closer you are to death, the more alive you feel. It’s a wonderful way to live. It’s the only way to drive.”

Or. You could just follow the tagline of the movie – Everyone is driven by something.

And, insanity didn’t end there for me. I brought my bike back to Bharsar at 2 am. Started from Delhi at 2 pm. Took some snaps at Ganga riverside before Bijnor.

 Had thought of halting at Kotdwar or Lansdowne. But then some lunacy bug entered my head prompting me not to stop at all. I drove very very steadily keeping in mind of everyone who told me ride safe after the landslide incident. Frequently I would check the sky, which looked clear. I tried to follow a biker who was on his way to Satpuli but he ended up making me lead him. No one really wants to take the lead on roads like that. At that time of the night when the climate posed no threat, the threat was posed by wild animals. I wanted to see the spot where a driver had shown me one Cbz bike flown away by the flash flood in the river. It was on my onward journey towards Delhi that I saw the horrible condition of the bike and the way it was thrashed on the rocks in the river bed by the water that came down the mountains. We had asked the condition of the boy who was driving the bike and came to know the guy was in hospital. I would have taken few snaps of the bike but it had got really dark on my backward journey. Mountain people sleep very early. As does the temperatures drop down also. It was hard to find any single being to enquire if in case you take a wrong turn.

Its really not advisable to go out alone, on such roads, at such hours, in such weathers.

If anyone is reading this, please don’t ever be as crazy as me. My craziness was to such limits that I stopped my bike at 2 am on the mountains to take picture of the river which was shining beautifully in the moonlight. 

Later the people in my campus told me that the spot where I was standing was a frequent sighting spot for tiger. Ok. Crazy people do crazy things to bring you beautiful pictures of wildlife and awesome expeditions. But they always keep a company. Otherwise you just become just another Chris McCandless from Into The Wild. 

So. I am still ignorant about basics of photography. I need lenses. As usual, running low on money. Want to buy a leather jacket. The gym is not well equipped up here at Bharsar. I just hate mountain people. No Gods ever lived on mountains. Man just climbed up the mountains to fuck the nature that’s it.

I feel like tuning back to Tagore songs and sit quietly. Aar naaire bela naamlo chhaya. The song tells about returning back to home at the fall of dusk. I had knocked onto another beautiful song Amar Mawte Tor Moton Keu Neyi.. Really, I never met anyone as beautiful as you darling. Ha ha..

Hans Zimmer gave an awesome soundtrack to the Ron Howard movie Rush. With movie soundtracks, I did miss James Horner, the most precious of all soundtracks, the Titanic one. We miss you James.

I should get my name printed on my helmet, like these F1 guys. Ha ha ha. Just kidding. Well the rear prints on the bike, like Yaar anmulle, the Jatt & all.. the ones you frequently will get to spot around NCR region, the most number of Royal Enfields roam here only, so among these all rear prints, the Doctor sign is the best for sure. Come on. I roam too much. It’s a very normal thing to run your gaze on vehicles that accompany you on the highways and trying to figure out about the person on the driver’s seat. On such lonely highways, these vehicles that run with you mean a lot. Its not like my idiotic shitheads who bought an Enfield to take snaps of it by keeping it in their home backyard and posting it on Fb calling it an impotent beast.

And for the people who really roam a lot, its easy to get stories from them how they nicked death just like that. Its not difficult to find roamers up here on the Himalayas. And its not difficult either to listen to interesting stories how they saw a mountain rock running past them with a swish, or like evidencing mobsters doing arson stuffs, and many more stories which we simply enjoy in movies. One such fellow I got to meet is Thejus Jacob at my campus.

I want to drive to the sea now. Someday I will.

20 August 2015

Enfielder

I think it was 25^th May, 2015, when me and Futane set out from Melghat. The left over casual leaves I put forward to rucha. Rucha sanap was the gyne consultant and the unofficial officer in charge of Mahatma Gandhi adiwasi dawakhana, Utavali. With that name ‘Utavali’, the exclamation of Nikita comes to mind “Arnab, look its Utawli”. I was like “yup, so what”. Coz I was jogging, and you aren’t supposed to talk while jogging. 

Whatever. During the whole tenure of 5 months at Melghat, we never came to know who in reality was supposed to be the officer in charge on paper. Anyway. Melghat was a screwed up place. And my fairy to carry me out of that place was my dear darling thunderbird 350. Sumeet gave bad reviews about the bike. He said he owned one. That dumb idiot used to bluff out a history that he took admission in igmc Nagpur and later gave up mbbs to carry out the family business. And that business prospect had dreams of opening the best bar at dharni. Duff dumb bluff bullshit. He even accused the bhans Enfield dealers of Amravati saying they don’t care about the customers. Till now, I am satisfied with my Enfield and my Enfield dealer.

I had dreams of taking out the bike to Pune to Mumbai to goa, and if possible to kanyakumari via kerala. That would have been in the fresh rains of july. So I needed to buy the bike by may to heat it up for one or two months and then set out. And then I was out of cash, as ususal. Had asked Futane for 50 thousand rupees. Let me introduce doctor abhijeet Futane to you. 

Lately I named him doctor ciplar, for his addiction to propranolol, both for himself and for prescription purpose. That bastard had almost killed a 58 yrs old lady who had complains of anxiety, not taking the asthma history into account. The guy would speak non stop, doesn’t matter you respond to him or not. Bit of a maniac. Reminds me of the Vector character from the movie Despicable Me. That would remind me of Aditi’s dialogue “sir u like to co relate every person to a movie character”. Yup. So Futane wanted to come with me to pauri garhwal. Lets take one last hit at Futane. Futane means chana in Marathi. And that’s probably what would make Futane and Nikita virtually bro and sis considering Nikita’s surname was bhugra which also means chana in Haryanvi, I guess, that’s what Futane told me.

So, we people were totally pissed off with hopless administration at the Melghat hospital, the nuisance of chhabra & the ass burning summer. Still I would have waited for the summers to pass off and take out the bike tour to western Maharashtra and Arabian sea coast. But the disgraceful living standards at the hospital campus forced Tiwari to prompt me to leave the place for pauri. Enter Deepak Tiwari. The happy go lucky batchmate of mine, always there to help you out. A bliss to have a friend like him. Guy is a pediatrician now.

I had booked the bike around February first week I guess. Picked it up on 8^th may. The bike did come within 2 months of booking, but hindering was my cash problem. Adding salt to the wound would be non sensible salary payment system of the ever screwed up khs. Every salary would come 1 month late unless you send a doctor out there to sevagram to do what an attendant or clerk is supposed to do.

Enter my riding skills. My bike riding history would definitely be marked all black and red considering how many bikes of other people I had dashed up in my college days. Melghat track, from Paratwada to Dharni was full of twists and turns. Specially mind those dangerous u turns. Those u turns were not even in one plane level, either uphill or downhill, total of 14-15 like them. With no barricades to protect you in case you lose the road. Hope the ‘lose’ spelling is right here, enter Ankita’s grammar Nazism ‘you have lose an o from loose’. A fall off the road would make you disappear off the cliff into the dense forests.

The first time I drove a vehicle in that hilly area was with Abhishek thakur, my room mate doc, that also was an activa scooty. The activa was 5 yrs old, with a history of being paralyzed for 2 yrs. When we guys arrived at the hospital, we saw pitiable condition of the activa. Thanks to abhishek and hamza for towing it to dharni for repair. And the activa flew from dharni to Amravati right after its repair. The ghat area between Paratwada to Dharni was 90 kms stretched. Paratwad to Amravati was some 50 kms. I remember the expression of the guy sitting at semadoh dhaba “Amravati tak jaoge.. activa se.. baap re.. bahut door hai sirji mat jao aise activa se”.  That was 7 am, when me and abhishek took our first stop. Down the hill, I drove. Abhishek was probably taking a nap sitting on pillion seat. It was one hell of a roller coaster ride. Good point was there weren’t any heavy vehicle coming from the opposite way that morning. The scooty had a weak brake, no horns, engine would be gulping petrol like anything, head lights were weak. With that down the hill, I just went away with the flow. I will mention it again and again, driving downhill is a tougher job than climbing up. Because up the track your vehicle isn’t gone with the current, so basically you have a fine control atleast uphill. Petrol consumption is definitely screwed up uphill. On our way back, abhishek drove up the track, upto semadoh, after that I took the reins. And then we spotted deers. They were crossing the road right on the outskirts of harisal. It was around 9:30 pm. It was one whole family crossing the road. And my scooty wouldn’t slow down. I did apply the brakes, when one little one came right infront of the vehicle. Made a cut, saved it. They were all red spotted ones. Very beautiful. Reached hospital. Told everyone about our first ride. Gifted one t shirt to Nikita, turned out to be an extra large one. Mind it I didn’t notice it while buying. With that t shirt on her, she looked like one hip hop artist.

We were waiting for our second ride. Come 8^th may. Purchased the bike. I drove on the plains. Abhishek took the reins where ghat started. When we were exchanging the seats, we made a stop somewhere in the forest area only. It was night. A total pitch black. You wouldn’t be able to notice the person standing right next to you. Abhishek – “sir aise me koi jaanwar agar utha k bhi le gaya to pata bhi nahi chalega.”  It took us time to ride back owing to our photography sessions. New bike new enthusiasm. But who would have imagined that a thunderbird would walk out of the show room to be brazen for a 140 kms hill ride. 

The bike attracted public attention as usual. The more the attention it garnered the more we would discuss “ispe na silencer lagwayenge, alloy wheels lagwayenge” blah blah blah. “tanki ko modify kar denge.” “sir rajputana modifiers se karwayenge.” “tyres mote lagayenge.” “tubeless waale.” Blah blah blah. We had taken one stop somewhere before Paratwada, to buy some fruits and water, it was 5 pm. We stalled the bike, walked to the shop, on returning we spotted a crowd of people gazing over something. On nearing we found it was nothing but the thunderbird. Querries flew in “sir kitne ki padi, kitna deti hai, naya model aya hai.” The most absurd statement that people still make and I get irritated is “bullet hai, nayi wali.” Damn you guys its not a bullet. The most memorable part of the night was my refreshment halt at Kolkas. It was 8 pm and I got dirty pressure and abhishek was not ready for stop in the midst of the dark forest and I wouldn’t listen. I was the one driving so I stopped it near the Kolkas board and disappeared in the dark with a water bottle. Abhishek kept shouting “agar sher aa gaya to mai bhaag jaunga sir.” Luckily no animal showed up. The bike started creating noise once we crossed harisal. It was coming from the engine, a metallic noise. Somehow we knew something got screwed.

Hospital people welcomed it. People would love to take it for test ride. Complaints did come about the noise. Different people, different opinions. 400 kms or 30 days was the criteria for its first servicing. Somehow the noise would constantly irritate the rider. Tiwari used his intelligence and decreased the accelerator. It did decrease the noise but the bike would stop without acceleration. I had to increase it back. The bike had gone 280 kms in one week. And I was wondering how to get eligible for its first servicing. Pawan sir advised to get it immediately referred to service centre. 

I always had the itch for a long ride. And that came in. It was pleasant evening that day. Few rainy clouds had hovered in. it was a bit windy. I wanted to go on a long ride. The problem with my riding capability was to balance the bike at slow speeds round the corners owing to my little height, my short legs would find it difficult to shove this 200 kgs elephant. My dad would constantly shout at me on the phone “don’t buy Enfield, it’s a white elephant.” But dad I would want to go on long rides. No other bike would apt as much the Enfield adapts for a long ride. The classic model did figure better in terms of my height and all. But for long ride comfort thunderbird would definitely suit the best. Its seat design. The chopper style. All over made a good cruiser model. I always needed my woodland tractor soled shoes for getting a good grip on the ground while sitting on this thunderbird.

So. That evening I just proposed Futane the idea of going to wardha and back. Futane said no owing to the chances of being marked absent from the campus. I just lacked one ignition spark, which came in, when I entered the room and abhishek was “lo Nikita ma’am aap se baat karengi.” “When are you guys coming for anesthesia posting?” “I don’t know, could be june.” “Ok, meet me whenever you come.” “Sure, bol to abhi aa jaun.” “Aa ja.”

Done. I am going. Abhishek and Futane nodded yeah, go. “We will see whatever comes.” “I will be back by tomorrow evening.”

It was 9:30 pm. Futane – “abe abhi niklega to wardha kab pahunchega?”

Wondering over the speed limit of 60 kmph and the distance of 320 kms, I said “subah 5 baje.”

I was packing my stuffs and doing the talk. It hardly took a few seconds to make up mind to go out on a night ride with a new bike. Had my dinner, walked out the gate. Took a look at the bike. It was half dark at the gates. The last light was shining on the rear wheels of my bike and beyond it would be the dark roads in midst of the dark forests. I just spoke to myself ‘what am I doing.’ 90 kms jungle hill ride. I would be alone. God knows what can happen and what not. And after that the highway. I had never driven anything on a highway that long at that time of the night. The last time I used to hit the highways was the Nagpur wardha one, a 80 kms one. That would feel like going around in your backyard. Because that was only thing we bikers would get to go walking out of the sevagram hostel.

I took a sigh. A bit trembling hands. I just said to myself ‘come on you don’t fear anything.’ Switched on the ignition button and my bike rode into the darkness. It was a warm night. I was still expecting to feel cold at some point. I carried my high school track suit in my bag. It was dark when I crossed lavada. Harisal forests were about to set in. Just a bit of fear did tingle into me. All those lines the people used to say about not to go into these areas alone at night, kept roaming in my head. I just looked at bike ‘buddy if you go okay then to hell goes what the people say. Carry me to my destination.’ I had to maintain the max speed below 60 kmph owing to its first servicing bounds. Anyway I couldn’t have dragged it furious in the hilly areas for sure. Took the first break at semadoh. The guy at the dhaba knew us. He knew two doctors from utawali would go out on adventure ride at any time on any kind of vehicle. It was 11 pm. The man looked at me, wished me and looked at the bike.

“Aaj akele ho sir?” “haan yaar.” “Aaj kaha tak ja he ho?” I laughed at him and said “aaj wardha jana hai.”

He just laughed back at me. Two boys were staring at me “sir aap utavali dawakhane se hai?” “haan.”

Then they kept gazing at the bike. Then followed the as usual queries of how much it cost how much petrol it drinks and all blah blah blah. Took one glass tea and on black cig. This was one thing I knew would have to make a habit considering long night rides. It was 11 pm. Nothing much was bothering me about my ability to sit tight on except the fact that left me wondering what I would be doing at 4 am. That’s the time when even the night guards would surrender to sleep. Throughout the jungle I kept a keen sight for some animal. None.

Everything was going right. I was making sharp turns at a good speed tilting my bike. Until one U turn almost killed me, when my rear wheel skidded, bike went off road, a few inches away from the edge. I don’t know how I brought the vehicle back on the road but the balance of the heavy bike had just showed in. I took a deep breath. Didn’t stop after that until Paratwada came. And it was raining there. Took stop at Punjab dhaba I guess. Again a tea glass and a black cig. Inspected the bike thoroughly. No scratches. A stone did hit me on my right heel, it was bit paining. I told myself ‘bach gaye.’ Seriously. Took a polythene bag to wrap up the clothes to not get wet from rain. Again set out. Next stop was at Amravati. Road from Paratwada to Amravati showed fields on both sides. It was dark now. I was keenly waiting for the city lights of Amravati to show up. On the outskirts of Amravati I enquired at a petrol pump for petrol who said city pumps won’t give petrol after 12 pm till 6 am. Had to talk at the highway pumps. My bike crossed 450 kms when I was roaming in the city of Amravati. The repair signal started ticking. The problem at that dead end of the night is that you cannot reliably stop at anyone on the streets asking for directions. It was 2 pm. My gps network wasn’t working. Luckily found two lads who showed the way to Nagpur highway. The cbi atm gave me headache by not dispatching me my money. And that’s how I left Amravati. I wasn’t gonna take the chandur rly road from Amravati for wardha coz it wasn’t showing up on my mobile gps. I was gonna take the Nagpur highway route to make right turn at talegaon to arvi to wardha. The national highway 6 was really something. A big broad lucratic four way lane. My petrol tank was full from a highway service station. And after that, throughout the NH6, me and the moon. It was a waxing gibbus I guess. No one else. I was missing a pillion rider to talk to. Legs on the leg guard, left hand freed, only right wrist was supported on accelerator. The bike’s comfort level just showed up. Its balance was like a magic. Its balance only saved me from being wiped off the cliff in the jungle tonight. Over all it was a beautiful bike. Its beauty was still to be seen. Kept a track on gps. Talegaon came. Left the fly over, took right turn. End of the beautiful roads. Enter the village roads. Bumpers. Still not as frustrating as the bumpers between Amravati and Paratwada. Once I reached Arvi, I smiled knowing I am near wardha. The clock was ticking 4 am. One hour to wardha. The road was very uneven. Somehow I had to make it in one hour. It got cold then. I wrapped up my track suit. Still I was feeling cold.

Jerking all the way, somehow wardha wasn’t showing up and I was getting frustrated. The mark that I was nearing the morning timeline was showing up with sightings of ladies cleaning the streets still dark and men going out with water cans in their hands into the fields. The dawn was nearing. I kept my bike at strict 60 kmph inspite of the uneven roads. Two things kept pestering me the late night. One the adamancy to reach sevagram before the daybreak. And second the dirty road wouldn’t let me speed up. Both the factors were opposing each other.  Frustrated I finally pulled up my bike near an old man who was going out to graze his buffaloes. Asked him how far is wardha. He was a toothless old chap, he said something chewing up almost all the words. All I could make out was that wardha was 15 mints far. I passed a sigh of relief. I drove ahead to find an old toll stop. That was the mark that I was about to enter wardha. That toll booth we guys used to encounter while going to mahakali. In the dark when did I pass mahakali and anji I didn’t even notice. One left turn and a right turn followed by another left and the paunar sawangi bypass showed up bringing a smile on my face. Hello wardha. It seemed like I reached my hometown. So many memories. Tandoor showed up on right hand. That was the only place where the 06 batch had the one and only full batch party. Look where we are now. That happened almost 8 years ago. Drove past arvi naka. Took left turn to dinshaws ice cream parlour and a right turn to the swimming pool followed by left turn towards sewagram. I just talked to myself. I know everyone here. Everyplace. It did feel like your own place. One year back when I was preparing for pre pg exams I didn’t want to come back to this place. And tonight I drove 300 kms from Melghat to here. Entered the college gate like a king. Slowly. Pulled up my bike infront of casualty. The whole casualty was empty. Looked into the ortho duty room to find a person sleeping with face covered by blanket. Surely it wasn’t kariya or kharat. Headed to O.T, only to find the whole place deserted as hell. It was 15 mintues past 5 am. Called up abhinav. No answer. Called up arjun to find him sleeping in his hostel room. Called up Nikita to hear a storm of scolding as to why I set out in the dead night alone. She said she was ill at hostel. I headed to the pg block. Rested my bike for few hours. Went to arjun’s room first who woke up with dirty mouth as to why I switched on the tube light. I let him sleep. Then went to kariya’s room, who woke to a big surprise with the first expression trying to recognize who I was and then “abe kitna daari bada liya hai be tu.”

I was literally shivering. The late night cold had been shaken off me. I switched off the fan in kariya’s room and went to sleep. Kariya rose after sometime exclaiming its hot and he needs the fan. The sun had shown up. I rose up at 7 am to pay a visit to my dear old c block. Shouted at the top of my voice “Tiwari..” and Vinamra Tiwari showed up. At first he thought that his in charge pg ahmad zabeeh was shouting. Vinamra came out of the room with a heavy face only to get enlightened up after seeing me. I was roaming in my sleeveless, was almost exhausted. Although I had to preserve my enthusiasm more for my return journey via Amravati where I was not only planning to put bike in servicing but also watch Piku. Tiwari came running  down, picked me up. The guy was a strong built up fellow. Then he took my thunderbird for a test ride. I forgot to tell him not speed up beyond 60 kmph. Then met mohit who came up saying I looked like sardarji because of my beard. Ankur constantly kept telling me to cut my beard. I would just nod my head. Then headed to meet Nikita. She had just woke up. She was standing at the girls hostel gate with the pillow cloth markings on her face giving an impression how hard she was sleeping. Gifted her two t shirts. These were small sized, unlike the last one. She laughed at the t shirt designs. She caressed her palm over the Enfield tank with a smile. The tank was covered with dust for sure. She asked the price. At my reply she uttered ‘so costly’. I said “all good things come costly only.” She said “the best things in life come free only arnab.” What a philosophical line to hit the morning. That line still rings in my head to the present date, and I would just look at my Enfield thinking ‘that line wasn’t for u buddy. Ofcourse the costlier a vehicle the better. Nikita’s lines were in some other meaning.’ Bided everyone goodbye. Nikita was supposed to gift me a ring which she said priyanka madam would carry for me to Melghat. I kept thinking it should have been a good one not apprising of the devil’s mindset.

Then I went to Goras bhandar. How could I miss the milk and bread of that place. A good breakfast that I always missed at Melghat. Headed out on return tour.  The morning was pleasant. I was expecting for the summer heat to show up. It did turn up when I was driving on the NH6. I wouldn’t speed up beyond 60 kmph. And all the rest of the vehicles would keep overtaking me. One innova showed up by my side with a kid staring at my bike. People would love the view of my bike except the dirty noise the engine was making. The one line of the yadav mechanic would keep ringing all the time in my head that no matter how much noise the engine would make the bike won’t stop. I trusted him and kept grazing the thunderbird. Reached Amravati. Ran to the bhans automobiles. One mechanic came running after hearing the dirty noise saying the oil filter is fucked up. Sandeep instructed the rest of the people to get the work done soon. I left the bike there to watch Piku. Nice movie. Something that Rishi said turned out to be a noticeable one, Amitabh Bacchan’s acting literally plotted the way an old Bengali dad would behave in reality. Rest of the characters were ok. Somehow Moushumi Chatterjee would still refuse to grow old. She reminded me how my mom used to get pissed watching her in every Bengali movie when I was a kid. And I really don’t know whats wrong with Soojit Sarkar pulling the legs of bongs in his every movie. Last time I watched it in Vicky Donor. God knows what connectivity he saw in a typical constipation act and being a Bengali. The movie would have better been named constipation only. Returned to bhans after the movie. Had bought one bike cover jumbo sized. My bike is a jumbo sized one. Sandeep brought me my bike again turned brand new. Sparkling, again. No engine sound now. I was happy. Bade everyone goodbye. Then set out for Melghat. As usual I hated the speed breakers of Amravati.

I was on the way to reach Paratwada when I spotted on my rear view mirror a truck was overtaking everyone fast speed. He neared me. I gave him side thinking he is hurry. But he won’t overtake me. He kept staying at my tail. I looked at my speedometer showing 60 kmph. I nodded I am not speeding beyond this. I came on the road edge. For 2 minutes the truck remained on my tail end. Then he slowly pulled at my side. I looked up at the navigator. He smiled at me pointing ‘nice bike’. I just laughed. Then he speeded away. People love this thunderbird. The stone edition did mark out the other polished up tanks. The only fear which would constantly strike me was the stone edition had no warranty. Any mark would permanent on it. That would make me think over my injury marks that I attained from the bike accidents I had in my past. Some marks should remain forever. That’s how you become a man from a kid. Shows you didn’t fear to venture out.

Made it to the ghats before the dark fell. Got the tank full. Was expecting some animal sighting, which didn’t happen sadly. Didn’t take any stop neither at semadoh nor harisal. Knew the sooner I get back the more rest I will get to take. I had to take a stop after harisal to relax my buttocks. Reached the hospital campus around 7:30 pm. Entered the room to see Tiwari smiling at me “thak gaye honge.” “saalo kitna ghanta chala mai.” Just wanted to show them that I was tired as hell when in reality I was excited to make a trip successful. Deep down the gut had a feeling it was just a warm up trip. I slept like a dead log of wood that night.

Priyanka patil ma’am came up after a few days to Melghat to give me a key ring which had an impression of a western latrine. Damn you. Written over the gift wrap ‘for your new thunderbird, with love from Nikita & Arjun.’  I wanted to kill someone.

Probably my third bike ride, was the Mad Max one. Initially I wanted to watch that movie in Nashik. Called up Rishi to tell him about my plan. Abhishek kept telling me “chale jao sir.” And Rishi.. Rishi was like “raasta kharab hai.. theatre accha nahi hai nashik me.. English me nahi milega tujhe.. bahut garmi hai nashik me..” and the last one “ghar aayega.. kitne baje pahunchega.. abe utne subah koi nahi uth ta” the last one was the dirtiest excuse to make me cancel my Nashik plan.

Abhishek and Futane had gone for visit. That was the first time two medical officers went for the fucking village visit. And that useless chhabra kept eating my head with her crappy excuses as to why there is no electricity in the campus. I just walked out of her meeting right on her face. Had heard she was searching me later, had set her gyne dogs to tell me to talk to chhabra which I never did. And they marked me absent for that day, my happy Mad Max day. What a movie. Really. Tom Hardy should be saying why he can’t get one role with a straightened face. But dude he just fits in those kind of roles aptly. The masked Bane from Dark Knight. Then this masked Mad Max. Before that the Bronson bald look and the tattooed dreaded built up look from Warrior. Tom Hardy just rocks it all. Some, not some, but lots of insane action scenes by the director in Mad Max. I just loved it. Had watched one superb post apocalyptic movie after Waterworld I guess. The decision to set out to watch that movie in Nagpur was another mad act of mine. Set out at 11 am. Sun heat scorching. Got the tank full at Paratwada. The Melghat jungles didn’t let me feel the noon heat at all. The heat got me after Melghat. Too hot it was. Took a break at Amravati to bite into some snacks. My water bottle had already got boiled. No use of it. I had to buy a new one on NH6. NH6 had some peculiar experiences for me. This time I was riding the same way, legs on the leg guard, left hand freed, right hand rested on the accelerator, ear phones humming music into my ears. Last time I was on NH6 travelling towards wardha, it was night 3 am. The moon accompanied me all the way, I was feeling cold. Everytime I felt lonely I looked up at the moon and smiled, it was a half moon then. This time, time 2 pm, superb summer heat. Helmet on head, white scarf to cover my neck, khadi shirt, jeans below, woodlands below that. I was speeding at 70 kmps this time. 70 kmph looked better. Rolled my hands on the big tank of my thunderbird wondering how hot the engine would have become now. Just whispered ‘roll on buddy.’ The entry to Nagpur was beautiful. The Fun n Food village sight brought back tons of college time memories. There was a lake on the left side of highway before touching the city area. The road led straight to Cinemax. Another spot with too many memories. The best one was when me Ankush Ankur Shridhar Bagga Ankita Nikita had come for shweta madam robin sir marriage. And the number movies we would turn up to watch at cinemax would be numerous, Mission Impossible with Steve, Prince of Persia and Avatar with Rathod, Dark Knight with Avin. Hangover 2 and Kung Fu Panda 2 with Rishi. “Scars don’t heal, wounds heal” “Then what happens to the scars?” “I don’t care what happens to the scars.” The Shen Kung fu panda dialogue. “Here comes my biggest enemy.. stairs.” Me and Rishi would just roll laughing. I used to cut that stair dialogue at Baghel sometimes.

Enquired to know if I could drive through the variety square market to the cotton market. Did that. Finally reached Empress City. It was 5:30 pm. Movie was at 8 pm. What to shop. Wanted to buy a Wolverine key ring, thinking that’s the one thing I always have to stare at where lonely highways hit me. And look at what the fuck Nikita gifted me. Damn Wolverine key chain was costing 350 rupees. Again. Short of money. My all time story. And I bought an apple key ring for Nikita. Ah that was a cheap one. God knows why would a plastic made Wolverine key chain would cost 350 rupees. Watched the movie. Then, set out for my night journey.. again. What I hated the most about night journeys was the late night tiredness. That would creep into your skin like it would kill you to surrender to bed immediately. The late night teas at the dhabas would help you out then. But many fucking dhabas would also resort to sleep after 3 am. Then wait for the dawn to break in. That day break shine would be like a consolation prize for driving whole night. Fucking I should change my key ring to Batman during my night drives. How come Bruce Wayne won’t feel sleepy after a day time heavy gym. Might be on caffeine amphetamines. Crazy thoughts keep running whole during night rides. I hit the Melghat jungle at 3 am. Knew would reach hospital by 4:30 am if I ride okay. Kept the bike 40 kmph even at the dirty turns in the ghats. Knew somehow have managed to master it well. A stop in the jungle at that time would mean danger. Not a single vehicle light showed up through out the jungle route. Still I was wishing to see some animal. Remembered the “animal..” shout of Aditi during our Kolkas tour, and a sambhar ran across the street. Hamza was at the wheels. Everyone had got so excited that we forgot to slow down our bolero to see the deer as the deer crossed the street and stopped and kept staring at our vehicle. Futane couldn’t make out what it was, he was on alprax or propranolol effect surely. Nikita was in the centre back seat saying “my mom used to say if a deer would cross your way it would mean bliss for you.” The sambhar was shining bright in the full moon night. Second time I saw a sambhar was when I was returning back from Khandwa in the bolero, and I was drunk at that time. But mind it I had seen the sambhar.

No animal sighting during my night ride on my return way from Mad Max. Touched the hospital gate exact at 4:45 am. Did it. Walked up to nokdar to get the gates opened. I had to go for visit at 7 am. Retired to bed for just 1 hour to wake up with weary eyes for village visit. Would recite to the visit sisters and the driver about my bike rides, my bike and how I hate the fact that my helmet doesn’t cover my beard. My beard would get scorched in the summer heat. I used the scarf beneath the helmet to protect my beard.

The ride of my life was still waiting. I always wanted the first mega bike trip to be from Melghat to Pune to Mumbai to goa, if possible to kanyakumari. What I didn’t know was that my bike rides would be to the Himalayas. Today as I write all these I sit on the cold lonely mountains and plan my trips around Delhi Chandigarh Jaipur. I am still not getting the dare to step out for Leh Ladakh. My bike needs lots of work done.

Enter 25^th May 2015.

The decision to quit services at Melghat was taken on 24^th may. Surely no one could have obstructed the resignation from job. One thing I was sure of was that chhabra will do something stupid to create a headache for me later. You can’t expect anything better from that hopeless old lady. Futane had agreed to leave Melghat as well, to join pauri. The sevagram dean office wasn’t giving permission to join any other centre with their joining letter. Narainpur ram Krishna mission opened two seats for us, pauri had also opened two seats, one male and other female. But all these new seats were to be considered as external candidature seats as khs wasn’t permitting change of centre in a period of one year. Futane was in dilemma of what to do. I was hardcore sure about leaving Melghat. My parents told me to go to narainpur instead of pauri. Their impractical reason was that pauri mountains will get washed away by cloudburst landslides once I reach there. The illogical statements of my parents would never invite any debate to reason with them, ever.. Dad is adamant. Mom never stepped out of the house, she never liked to roam around. Narainpur would have been a jail house considering the naxal and military activities around that area. Why would an Enfielder choose a naxal suffering area over the Himalayas. To hell went my parents’ opinions. I told Futane to pack up bags and be ready by 25^th noon. We are going north. The nokia map of my nokia 6300 was everything to guide me. Earlier we had decided to take the NH3 from Indore to Delhi to haridwar to pauri. Then we changed our plans, we were going to Amravati to pick up the bike papers, then to sevagram, basically to meet our bosoms and pay a fruitless visit to the ever fucked up khs dean office.

The night before stepping out on the bike tour I just reciprocated what my position was gonna be the very next day. I was gonna be a jobless fellow, with no money in my pockets, biking from central india to north. Borrowed ten thousand rupees from Satav sir. The height of insanity in this tour was that Futane expected me to show my face at pauri and then return back to Melghat immediately to take my bags with me. The linear distance from Melghat to pauri on map showed some 1200 kms. So Futane expected the two way road trip to be of 2400 kms and to cost within ten thousand rupees for two people. That was bullshit. Even I was thinking bit same.

It was 25^th may. Literally speaking it was tough to think about the journey I was gonna start. We had no idea about the towns and cities we were gonna hit on the way. Sagar Gwalior Jhansi agra haridwar after that the mountains. The mountains created more dilemma. I kept asking Tiwari how the Uttarakhand mountain roads were gonna be. I wished they shouldn’t be like the Melghat mountain roads. Tiwari once made the exclamation to join at chamoli coz that would get me more stipend considering it’s a tougher area to reach and I also made up my mind once to do so. Chamoli was near badrinath, hell tough area to ride up to. I had no idea then about that. I emptied my back pack. Took one pair of everything, two shirts, two jeans, two t shirts, two jackets. It was hot as hell noon at Melghat. Usually we would always prefer to stay indoors in such a season. With no electricity to roll the fans, life was shit at Melghat. Excitement and happiness was indeed there to leave such a place, so was the fear of rolling out into the unknown, sadness was just looking back at the happy moments we had at Melghat with friends. I had to leave utavali around 3 pm to reach Amravati royal Enfield showroom before 7 pm. My 9 years old woodland shoes had worn out its tractor sole. Got that sealed at dharni. I needed those pairs for a safe journey. Packed up my articles in the back pack, was waiting for Futane to show up with his once. And the bastard showed up late with a heavy load of family utensils which ranged from shoe polish to fair and lovely cream, his fruit squash bottle, bath scrub and what not. There was no space left in my back pack and that did not stop Futane from packing up even more stuffs. That ended with me and hamza shouting at Futane to minimize the stuffs and take only necessary things.

“ye shoe polish ka kya achar daalne wala hai”

“abe black sandal le rha hoon na. polish kaise karung bina uske”

“80 kmph k speed pe bike bhagegi highway pe garmi me din bhar, raat ko sona hi hai. To tere chappal kaun dekhega be”

Somehow made all the stuffs fit into the back pack. I had thought of carrying the back pack on our shoulders, which changed after we took the bike out of the stand. Abhishek and hamza came up with the idea of tying the bag on the side foot rest for the pillion driver. They tied that hard with whatever ropes they could possibly find at that moment. Rucha madam and saima came to bade goodbye. The wind was blowing hot. I took a test ride, found the bag absolutely stable. Futane climbed up. Bade everyone goodbye. We set out. It was hard, very hard to imagine that we were gonna cover over one thousand kilometers in days to come and reach the Himalayas. I took up some confidence. Futane sat still. The bike didn’t show any signs of being loaded. Rode steadily. Both of us had worn khadi shirts. Khadi shirts really suited better than other textiles in such extreme weathers.

The bike horn started blowing by itself while we were in the midst of Melghat hills. The horn wire had got loose and touch the silencer which was red hot, which caused the melting and sticking of the horn wire with the silencer tube. Fixed it manually by tightening the band around the horn wire. . I did feel bad when I was passing through the forests around kolkas and semadoh. I kept telling Futane “bearish me ye banjar area jannat bann jati hai, charo taraf se pani behta hai.” I had planned earlier to enjoy my stay at Melghat in rains which didn’t seem like happening now. Rains were still two weeks far and spending a single day at utavali without electricity and water was hell, specially with that kind of hospital administration. I just wished the place for wich I had set out for should be better . Passed the hills to enter Melghat, didn’t take any stop. Futane started nagging while entering paratawada that he felt nauseating. I said I won’t stop before Amravati. Then Futane complained of headache. I again denied to take a stop. When we were about to enter Amravati, I slowed my bike very much at the speed breakers which led to hitting of a scooty on the rear end of my rear mud guard. I asked Futane what was that sound, did we hit anything. Futane said no. I got down, checked behind to find a tiny scratch at the rear end. The scooty was running at great speed without good brakes leading it to hit my bike. The scooty had run away after that. The scratch was unnoticeable though. I still wished such incidents should not happen in future. Reached Amravati. Picked up the necessary papers from the bhans automobiles. Got the bike checked. Told them about my plans. Sandeep wished me well. And we set out. Wanted to see a saddle bag, saw just one piece and bought it. After that we had sugarcane juice on request of Futane. And Futane collapsed at the juice bar with one glass. I was wondering what to do with this guy, would it be better to go without Futane or with him. Going with a guy assured safety on the route. Going without him assured freedom. And if also to cut him off, but how with what excuse. I let that upto him if he wanted to accompany further on the trip or not. We left Amravati. Caught the NH6. Futane was pleased to see the grand size of the highway. Kept speeding at 75 kmph. Reached talegaon. It was 8 pm. Took halt to dinner at a dhaba. “wardha yaha se ek ghanta hai.” Futane wont reply back. The guy looked done. “bhai ye to bas trailer tha abhi to poori movie baki hai. Abhi teri ye haalat hai to aage kya karega.”  Futane finally spoke “mai dekhta hoon. Mere paas helmet nahi tha na isliye.”

Going out on such routes I always preferred to get all over covered. Full sleeves, scarf, helmets. Some had told me to get gloves which I couldn’t though. Often see guys speeding on the highways with half sleeves. I just smile at them ‘dude you are killing yourself.’

Reached wardha at 9:30 pm. Futane went to Piyush to collect his room keys. While I drove to the hostel. Met Aniket kharat. The guy welcomed me then ran to see the bike. Futane showed up after sometime. Kharat immediately noticed the nauseating looks on Futane’s face. “bhai tu soch le tu aage ja payega ki nahi. Tere bas ki baat nahi hai ye.”

I walked up to Vinamra’s room. Tiwari sawan welcomed me. Chatted with them for hours relentlessly. Didn’t seem I travelled 300 kms at all. Don’t know when we surrendered to bed. The last time I slept in Vinamra Tiwari’s room I remember Anil baghel too was there with me and we kept chatting the same way relentlessly whole night and I don’t remember when I collapsed to nap and started murmuring in dreams to be complained in morning by both of them that I was speaking with them while I was sleeping and they were awake.

Woke up next day morning to wash up the clothes. Tiwari wouldn’t go to posting. I went to Goras bhandar for breakfast. After that the bank works followed by the dean office. The motherfucking dean office as expected denied giving me permission to leave Melghat and to join pauri. At the same fucking time the motherfucker dean wouldn’t take one fucking action at improvement of living conditions at Melghat. I bade the fucking dean office a fuck off. These fuck head doctors would be given a chance to seat their asses on administrative posts and then these fucktards would fuck up with all the students. Given a head high esteem as a good operating doctor, then be limited at that position only, why play fuck and hide with the young students. Have seen how tomorrow’s high esteemed doctors behave in their youth age. All typical A type personalities. Every dean of all medical institutes would give back a similar kind of feed back. Fuck you all fucking deans.

Spent the evening on a bike ride around wardha with Manish kashyap.

 That guy looked sturdily well fitted on my bike considering his heavy built. Returned back to spend most of the time on Arjun’s lappy to fill up my shuffle with songs. Needed good songs to keep me awake for my night trips. I knew I won’t get I Tunes anyway sooner to refill my shuffle. Then headed to Tiwari’s room to again chatter with him whole night. Every now and then both of us reminded each other about the next days journey but the slumber won’t come and we kept talking. 2 am. 3 am. Then I said let me close my eyes for a bit now. 3:30 am. I decided to go out then. Packed up my bags, then felt a little sleepy so went back to bed to wake up after half an hour.

“doctor you can come up to us and we will arrange a joining for you. There will be no problem.”

“ye kya bol rhe ho sir.”

“us pauri k dean ne aisa kaha mujhse aur isliye mai ja raha hoon.”

“koi dikkat nahi hogi sir. Ab wapis kab aana hoga.”

“aaya kabhi to bike se hi aaunga. Par yaar mai ye aaj kya karne ja hoon mere samajh k baahar hai. Bas raaste me bike ko kuch na ho.”

Vinamra kept laughing. Futane had cancelled his Uttarakhand plans after my meeting reviews with the fucktard dean of sevagram. The Jnbh gym still stayed the same way. Met some juniors, fresh exciteers for gym, you know 3^rd sem always invites people to try new stuffs. People didn’t play much cricket now infront of the mess like it used to be at times of Vineet Singh, Navneet Ateriya, Anuj Mundra, Jiwan Kinkar sir, Manish Borasi sir.

Manish kashyap woke up early that morning when I was gonna leave with one sole purpose and that was to tie my saddle bag on the rear seat of my bike. Vinamra gave the bike a kick start. I bade both of them goodbye.

“ab to ye Harley lag rahi hai.” – Vinamra

That was the adieu line that set us laughing as I rode away. The dawn was about to break. It was a journey into the unknown. I kept the Linkin Park Roads Untraveled song in my mind. I did sing the opening lines wrong but it did serve some purpose.

‘Weep not for the roads untraveled.’ That’s the actual line, where as I sung it ‘Fear not the roads untraveled.’

The Paunar road looked nostalgic. So many rides on this road man. So many. So many memories. So many tales. So many tales heard and remembered. Some were the best ones. The water pipe canal on the left side of the road to Paunar just after crossing the railway crossing was place the where me Baghel Akash Rahul Vedant Tushar used to come to play La Mud ina, in the fresh rains. The Paunar railway line crossing usually used to be the place where we would keep our coins on the track.

After that a right turn towards Selu. The fly over was the spot where me and swapnil rathod had bike accident eight years ago. After Selu there used to come the left turn towards Bor dam and the Hingna way towards Nagpur. The sun came visible when I was around Keljhar. It was red and fresh. I didn’t stop to take a snap of the that cause I had long way to go and enough occasions like that would come and most importantly I was in deep hurry to reach Jabalpur before the noon heat.

The Khadki Hanuman mandir and pakodi shops also had tons of memories restored in them. The Saqi bar came after that. That used to be the patent place for us to sit and booze. The antics of drunk Akash during Ankush’s fairwell party, the bursting of bike tyres of Sridhar, my teary beer sessions with Prashant singh, loading up while on way to Nagpur, loading up for booze party at Jnbh with Vinamra, the place also had lots of memories. After that came the spot where I had dashed Akash’s red pulsar. Then came Butibori, the sign board up showed Jabalpur to be some 400 kms away. And I speeded up my bike. The NH 7 had shown up. I decided to take the right turn at the Nagpur bypass. I took it and the road was a never ending road. I kept speeding and the end of the road was nowhere visible nearby. My stupid mobile gps stopped getting network. Helplessly I kept speeding. Took the first dhaba stop for some parathas and a glass of milk. Asked them the way to Jabalpur, they said go straight. These highway side dhabas were the places where truck drivers would retire late night halting their trucks infront. And these truck drivers used to be huge built fat, sleeping in dirty vests and lungi on the rope cots. Two trucks that were halted there showed Punjab number plates. It was really wonderful to think how long these truck drivers go.  

The NH7 connected Varanasi to Kanyakumari via Jabalpur Nagpur and Bangalore. I wanted to take the way to Kanyakumari, some other day, on that day I was busy reaching Paurigarhwal for a job to fill my empty valet.

The point where I met the road which came from inside the Nagpur city was around Ramteke. Ramteke had some big lakes around. The Ram temple could be visible on the right side on a hill top. This road reminded me how me Ankush Shridhar Amit Yogi made the Pench trip in Mohit’s car with no spare clothes or stuffs to spend two days and one night in cold December 2008. I was waiting for the Pench jungle to show up. The hot summer had dried up more than half of the lakes and the forests. My bus trips to Jabalpur when parents used to stay there, used to show me wide expanse of the roadside lakes and too thick dense forests of Pench. The Pench forests stretch was too large. 

Deforestations could easily be spotted in summers. The road also turned bad, pit and potholes. There came a spot where some mischievous creature had put empty beer bottles in the mid road. The road was known to me. The Pench jungles ended to make wait for the Seoni four way lane highway.

I took a halt somewhere after Seoni to check the straps of my saddle bag which had started wearing out due to constant rubbing against the rear tyres. Was lucky to find a cobbler on a highway side village. A conversation with the cobbler attracted the some of his mates pondering over the bike and how I am gonna make the long ride to Uttarakhand.

The heat had started turning in. After a few hours the loo started blowing. It was really hot. The roads were deserted. The winds were accompanied with dust. The roads had beautiful river valleys which would glitter up in rains making them look like some scenarios from the movie Twilight. The river could be seen twingling into the open fields. It used to be the time around 2009, I used to come to Jabalpur by bus, used to love these scenes in rainy season. I used to like the movie Twilight then. Today I find it rubbish. Every trip to Jabalpur to meet my parents used to be with a different mindset. In 2011 I returned home to tell my parents how I had flunked in my final year. It was a hard time then. Dad was gonna retire and he had to pay one more semester fees. Once I had told Kriti, my landlord’s cute daughter that I was planning to come Jabalpur by bike. Its been three years since then. Kriti later became a way too serious art of living disciple giving up the worldly connections. Had no contact with them after my parents left Jabalpur. And I was planning to pay them a visit this time, if time permits. Three years ago it was when I had planned to bike to Jabalpur from Wardha. The idea created ripples in my hostel prompting seniors to tell me not to make such plans. Come on. Sandeep Meena and Bhavya Sirohi sir used to roam around half of the country, but that used to be with their cars and I was planning one with my bike. People fear a lot. This time I was really lengthening a tour almost half stretch of my country on my bike.  

It was getting hotter. Biking was getting difficult then. The hot loo was penetrating through my shirt. The saddle bag was creating problems getting scratched due to constant rubbing against the right side of the rear tyres. The bike had a guard on its left side and nothing on its right, the modern sports bike look concept surely screwed up the cruising style. I had to transfer all my belongings from right pocket to left pocket of the saddle bag. I had to rush to Jabalpur before the bag actually would get torn. Saw the board showing the name Bargi dam. My dad had come cruising here once. Narmada river really big sized here. Had taken one stop before entering Jabalpur at a dhaba from where I called up the Royal Enfield service centre at Jabalpur Napier Town to fix an appointment for my bike servicing. I entered Jabalpur around 1 pm. It was very hot noon. The temperature could have been 44 degrees. Drove straight to the Royal Enfield service centre to get the second servicing done. The bike had crossed 3000 kms, eligible for a second job card. Adding to that I wanted a guard on the right side of the rear wheel. I got that. Took a light nap at the customers’ restroom. The guys asked me about my bike tours. I lied to them telling them I had been to Goa avoiding any suspicion in their minds about my being an amateur at bike tours. The bike job took five hours. It became dark. It was six pm. I had made up my mind to drive now in the night only. The day heat had got pestered.

Got the directions of Kachnar City. The locality brought back old memories, the road to the Shiv temple, I used to run six kilometers every morning there. Halted bike infront of Manoj uncle’s house, my old tenant. Entered the gates. Clicked the calling bell. I knew it would bring a weird expression on their faces looking at my big beard. Aunty opened the door to ask me what I wanted. I told her remember me, I used to stay upstairs three years ago. Aunty smiled, calling everyone to meet me. Uncle came up to call me Ramdev baba owing to my beard look. Rohit, their son walked up, the guy had grown six feet tall. Then came Kriti. She asked if I finally got ortho pg as I had told her once about my ortho aspirations. I said no. It becomes difficult to introduce people to the aspirations of doing a pg in a non clinical branch. People expect you to become a surgeon orthodoc paediatrician etc etc. Stuffs like becoming a pharmac pg just to take out time to do gym and becoming a bodybuilder, goes unpalatable for the people. Absolutely unpalatable. People would stare at me as if I were an alien if I tell them pharm plus bodybuilding stuff. Come on, I am mad. So pardon me.

May end.. it was 28^th May I guess. I don’t know what was the holy occasion for the family to offer evening prayers at Narmada banks at Gauri ghat. They left for prayers and I left for my further journey. They bade me goodbye. I had to find a tailor or a cobbler to stitch my saddle bag, get a final work done on the saddle bag. I found one at the address told by Manoj uncle. The guy was wrapping up, it was 8:30 pm. I requested him saying I had a long way to go. That statement of mine was followed by flooding queries about what I do where am off to how is the bike etc etc.. People used to ponder over the thunderbird as if it was a Harley stuff. Then there was a photo session with the tailor’s family. The tailor wasn’t ready to take any tip but I insisted, gave forty rupees remembering the charges of the cobbler I had met in the Seoni highway side village. The saddle bag looked good to go now.

I left Jabalpur byside of Bhedaghat. If it was day time I would have surely gone to the spot. Its been two times I think I had been there. Last time Navneet had accompanied me and my parents. First time I was there with my dad back in 2004. The marble rocks are constantly been cut out there.

After bhedaghat what followed was the state highway and I kept praying the roads to be worthy driving. There wasn’t any problem though. I kept driving into the night. 10 pm. 11 pm. 12 am. 1 am. I was just remembering the last time I made such a night ride was from Melghat to sevagram. It was NH6. I wanted to touch the NH3 tonight. I had filled up some nice songs in my shuffle to keep my eyes open for the whole night. Breakaway, Kelly Clarkson. Last Masquerade, Linkin Park. Boulevard of broken dreams, old one, heard too much, yet suited my that trip. Walk On, U2. Safri Duo track came in to provide some pumps.Marilyn Manson, Anti Christ superstar, Beautiful People. Phantom Planet, California, Orange Country soundtrack, that song used to bring me memories of Mischa Barton. Santana, Chad Kroeger, Into the night. Take another one from Santana, Smooth with Rob Thomas. As I neared Sagar, I was in no mood to halt in the town but I was feeling cold and too much sleepy. I had four glasses of tea at dhabas till the clock hit 2 am. The conditions forced me to retire the night. Took the left turn, left the bypass, entered Sagar. It was difficult to locate a hotel. It 2:30 am when I checked in. I fell like a dead log of wood on the bed. I hadn’t slept the previous night as whole I kept gossiping with Vinamra, then faced the day heat on way to Jabalpur. I had to be exhausted. Manish’s and Tiwari’s messages had come on watsap asking me how far I made it.

Next day I woke up at 12 pm. Walked out of the hotel to find the noon heat like a furnace. And I was in the centre of the busy buzzing town market. When I had entered the hotel at night the surrounding appeared as quiet as some cold cemetery. Checked out of the hotel to make my way to a number plate shop. Got the work done, then set out for Jhansi. 

The roads were great. Frequent views of hills and slight turns. Some dry thorny forests. Knew the area around Jhansi Gwalior would have shown me some old forts if it would get dark. It did get dark. I had entered U.P by the dusk. That road was gonna keep changing through M.P, U.P, a bit of Rajasthan, again M.P, finally leading way to U.P. The night fell. My road was showing way to Bhopal and Jaipur constantly where I was searching for Jhansi Gwalior. That sign came at  a crossroad. I had crossed one forest area in between. At night the high hills in the forests looked like as if I was biking into the mouths of a big dark blue whale. I should have seen the scenarios at day time. I did miss that. One halt at a dhaba introduced me to a fellow well dressed in shirt pants who greeted me with ‘sir’ saying he noticed that I was a doctor going out on bike tour with a beautiful bike. I just smile at him. Asked him the directions, something that I used to do at almost every dhaba before leaving. Crossed Jhansi through the bypass. It was 8 pm. I had hit against boulder lying warily on the narrow track at a toll booth. The leg guard had moved back to move up the gear pad. I needed a mechanic. I wanted to stop at Gwalior. But the bypass made me track out of the city from side. I saw a accident there on the bypass. An oil tanker had caught fire, exploding like a bomb. The flames were almost 50 ft high. No one survived near the truck. I heard two people died, the driver and his mate. That was sad. The oil and rubbers had been thrown some meters around the site. That stuff had blocked the flyover. There was a crowd around it. Trucks had lined up to a long distance on both sides of the accident site. At such moments these truck drivers are your companion on the highway. They keep signaling. They keep telling you how the roads are gonna be. Some trucks were making a u turn out of the flyover to take a narrow lane beneath the flyover to continue their journey. I followed them. That brought me out of the Gwalior surroundings. It was half moon night. The black smoke from the accident site swept the half lighted up might sky like large snake. The site could me seen kilometers away from the site. It was a pitiful site.   

It was 11 am when I took halt at a dhaba outside Gwalior for dinner. To my utter surprise the dhaba had all kids working. All aged between 6 yrs to 10 yrs. There were some six or seven kids like that. They were constantly subjected to the abusive languages of the owner and the other customers. The place had attracted some drunkards who had come from the Gwalior city only. A fat drunkard joined me on my dinner table, asking me where I was upto. I said Agra. He said “sir isse aage mat hi jao, raasta safe nahi night drive k liye, waise vi aap akele ho to mat hi jao. Raat to bikers nikalte nahi hai aur aapka helmet dekh k mujhe laga ki aapko tokna chahiye.” I said thank u for his advice. I was an adamant fellow. Surely I wasn’t gonna listen to him although I did him a little creepy to follow my plans to drive whole night. I saw one old man aged around 60 years, showing hand for the highway vehicles to slow down on the highway. It was 1 am. The tracker going ahead of me didn’t stop. It was pitch dark around the highway spot where the old man was standing asking for a ride. I did slow down a bit on nearing the old man when I spotted the man’s head was bleeding and he had tied a white clothe on his head to stop the bleeding. I looked around. There were no vehicles lying to mark if any accident had happened. It was confusing what really happened with the old fellow. I didn’t stop either, just watched the scene and drove away. The Chambal Ghati was waiting to welcome me ahead. The area around Dhaulpur Morena was surely not a safe road to travel at the dead end of the night. I went ahead.

The Chambal ghati came with a cool breeze and blue moon lit wide expanse on both sides of the bridge was riding on. The water was reflecting at some places. I was missing another scenario. I should have crossed these view points in day time, but was doubtful if would have ok to drive in the day heat in those parts. Took another halt at around 2 am at dhaba where people instructed me not to venture out alone biking ahead at that end of the night.

“sir aage mat jao akele. Yahi ruk jao. Chahiye to hum aapko subah 5 baje utha denge, kisi truck wale k saath nikal jana.”

I used to pay no heed at those suggestions. These suggestions used to flow in at almost every dhaba I used to halt for tea. Usually the dhabas also retired to closure around 3:30 am. I crossed all to ride on NH3. I wanted to see the GT road, NH2. I entered Agra at 5 am. The police check posts were a lot in number. My entry into the city brought a fellow who kept biking on my side with a kid sitting on his rear seat saying something to me and showing me a photograph. I raised my helmet to see what shit was happening at 5 am. The man and the kid were trying to invite me to a hotel they knew. I said no and speeded ahead. Ahead was no less. The auto walas pissed me. Imagine biking on the empty streets of Agra with three auto walas at you tail end shouting “sirji hum aapko acche hotel le jayenge” at 5 am. Called up Arjun, he said stay some where near the rly station. Luckily I spotted the royal Enfield show room at Baluganj. Checked in a hotel nearby. Same set of questions. Sirji you are a doctor, where are you going, where coming from, so long bike trip, bike, how what, blah blah blah.

Retired to bed to wake up at 12 pm, got fresh, had lunch, again off to bed, to get up at 3:30 pm. I wanted to visit Taj mahal, went out only to find out its closed since it was Friday. Made way to the Agra fort. Had visited Taj and Fort back in 2009 I think, with Anurag, Avin, Deepak, Amit sir and some juniors. We had come Agra at that time for Arjun’s sister’s wedding. That time we had the 2 megapixel mobile camera to shoot the whole trip. This time I had dslr. But the Taj was closed. Drove to the Agra fort, roamed inside the fort. I had the dslr carry bag hung on my backside with my both mobile phones in it. The camera was in my hand. I got too mesmerized to take snaps of the Taj from the Fort when some asshole took away the Nokia mobile out of my bag. I realized that on my way out of the Fort. The Nokia mobile was the one in which I used to do all the internet works, gps and all. Now without it I became a blind man travelling around. The other mobile, Samsung one, I didn’t like that one at all. The asshole took away the Nokia one, leaving the Samsung one for me. I had lost all important notes and pics through that mobile. Mood had turned gloomy. Returned back to hotel to register a complaint at Baluganj police station. Then headed to cyber café to change all the passwords, opened all accounts, that was when I read that one and only comment on Cheap Lament post on my blog. It had been months that I had opened my blog. The comment surprised me less and rather added some entertainment on an occasion when my mood was down because of the mobile lost. My head was so much angered that I didn’t want to stay at Agra anymore. Checked out of the hotel. The people around advised me the Aligarh Meerut Muzzafarnagar  route not safe to ride at night alone. But who cared. I just didn’t want see the Agra people anymore. Someone had rightly said ‘India k saare chor Delhi Agra me hi milte hai.’

It was difficult to make way out of Agra. The city had crowded roads. I had left Agra around 9 pm. One uncle showed me the way out of Agra saying “just follow me.” Agra made way for Hathras. My back pack was now showing tear. Somehow these bags were creating problems on my tour. The back pack was seven years old one though. Luckily, spotted one tailor on the Hathras outskirts. It was 10:30 pm and the guy was looking for pack up when I showed up infront of him. He again flooded the same very queries, how is my bike, how is my job, how is my tour and etc. Again this fellow insisted on not taking any tip for stitching up my back pack. Yet I paid him forty rupees and bade him goodbye. I stopped at one dhaba after Hathras. Awesome mix parathas and dal makhani. At just 80 rupees. My stomach was full. That was the dhaba food that made North India famous. I wondered it really better to have food in such dhabas rather than spending money  in the towns and cities. Aligarh came up after that. Tiwari had advised me to follow the bypass route out of the city citing that the city will slow me down. Tiwari had also instructed me not to follow any advises of the rickshaw wala as they will direct me to go through the city. I did just the opposite, ending up twisting inside the city roads. I had told Tiwari that I had lost my gps mobile directions and he said that he will tell me the ways through phone. Somehow I had the picture of the map in my head. I knew the towns I had to go up to. Aligarh would have been followed by Meerut the Muzzafarnagar followed by a right turn to Roorkee, followed by Haridwar. I left Aligarh to come up on the Delhi Haridwar highway. That route welcomed me when a car behind me spanked its headlights at me. I was already rushing at 90 kmph. I gave way for the car to overtake me. The car flew at a speechless speed. I again tried to come on right side of the road as the slow speed trucks were rolling on the left side. Another car from behind me honked. I gave way to that as I saw 3-4 cars speeding away at 100 plus speeds. That was followed by a stream of four wheelers speeding like wind. I watched them for some time after which I accelerated at 100 plus speed. But these cars literally jet their way at even more speeds. I thought this scenario would happen for a few minutes, but this thing had started at 11 pm and continued till morning. The road was an awesome one. After sometime I got used to the high speeds. The whole tenure I kept watching the four wheelers, Swift desire, Xuv, Fortuners, Scorpio, etc etc.. all kept speeding away at 130 plus speeds. The highway side dhabas here were not like the rest of the dhabas that I had seen through out my journey. All lighted up. Be it 2 am or 3 am or 4 am. The dhabas here would be seen buzzing with people. I took one stop at a dhaba around 3 am, the dhaba was simply houseful. Asked a man who was sitting with his family where he was upto. He replied Haridwar. I took a tea glass in my hand and gazed at the road. If a single being would appear by mistake also on the road, it would surely be run over by the super speeding vehicles. The families that would come out of this cars taking halt at the dhabas also would walk out of the cars with their children, babies crying. Too much chirping around. As if I had entered some festive zone. I don’t know whether it was any special occasion to pay visit at Haridwar or it just happened like that all round the year. I kept driving after that. The car number plates showed them coming from mostly Delhi area, some from Punjab, some from Haryana. These people were definitely not necessarily rushing for Haridwar in particular. The mountains had the four dhaams, alongwith the Hem Kund Sahib. Some might even be making way for Dehradun. The way for Dehradun got cut around Roorkee I think, I don’t remember exactly. After that the straight road showed the left over distance to Haridwar. I kept driving. The clock hit 4 am. I was feeling sleepy surely. 4:30 am. I was waiting for the dawn to set in. It got a bit lighted up. That was when I was crossing the Ganga river. The eucalyptus trees on the road side shined up. I entered Haridwar at 5 am.

I was in no mood to halt at some expensive hotel. I had made up my mind for a dharamshala. The search for a cheap dharamshala at 5:30 am got me one nasty one which had some old men suffering from bronchitis. Mad me. My mood still hadn’t got over the loss of my mobile phone. I didn’t retire to bed after I got freshened up at my room. I went to see the Ganga ghat. The people spoke a lot of names of the ghats but I was in no mood to know the names. Remembered the numerous names of the ghats at Varanasi for instance. I still don’t remember exactly the ghat where they used to burn the dead, Assi ghat or what God knows.

The sunrise time was a cool one with beautiful breeze flowing. Temple chants and prayers welcomed me. I stood on a bridge and enjoyed my entry. Morning at the Haridwar ghats was buzzing with crowd. Haridwar has always been like that. Overcrowding. The water didn’t look really that clear to take a dip. The people at the dharamshala had advised me to take care for my articles. I kept roaming in my half pants and a t shirt, with the dslr in my hand. At one instance a man asked me how much I charge for photography at which I replied to him that I am not the pro one he was looking for.

Last time I was at Haridwar was when I was 5 years old, had come with my entire family. My uncle had come, basically he was brought for match making purpose at Dehradun. My Grand father had rejected that one. Today my uncle’s son is in IIT Powai, following his dad’s legacy. Time flies. My mom somehow loved Haridwar. I don’t know why. Mom never visited Varanasi. I like Varanasi far more than Haridwar.

Roamed in the markets later. The market was yet to open. Haridwar market was one hell of place to be at. Too much crowd. And in that crowd people would ride their two wheelers, I don’t know how. Lots and lots of shops. Too many tourists. Literally an overflow. I retired to bed at noon time. Woke up at afternoon to evidence an even worse crowd at the markets. You will always find Bong connection at Haridwar. Bengali shops. Some part of crowd would be climbing a hill nearby to visit some temple. People would do anything. I went and sat at the ghat. A man instructed me not to dip my sandals in the water. I said ok. It felt calm and soothing. Its difficult to find people like me who would come all way to a overcrowded place like Haridwar to sit alone and enjoy the breeze at the ghats. Saw the evening aartis but it was nothing like the one at Varanasi. The dusk fell. It felt even better after that. 

Everyone was swaying the lighted up diyas in the flowing waters. I thought for sometime whether to do it or not and finally did it making some fine wishes. The local kids would be seen jumping into the high current waters, just to pick up the coins that people would throw into the river. The temple chants and prayers kept on going. It felt serene, some what satisfactory from inside, to sit at the ghats at the evening time. Made my way back to the markets for dinner. Retired to bed that night early. Next day I had to wake up at 4 am. Was tired so the slumber struck early too.

Till then I hadn’t given a single hint to my parents about my ongoing journey. Had spoken to Rishi after reaching Haridwar. Rishi just wanted to make sure I don’t get disappeared. Tiwari had instructed me to enquire about the roads from the bus drivers about which way would be fit to go. There were to two routes to Pauri. One through Devprayag and the other one through Kotdwar. I had decided to take the Devprayag way when I was going through my mobile gps map. Now the mobile wasn’t there with me. Tiwari had however preferred the Kotdwar route and I was adamant on taking the Devprayag route. I lied to my parents to wake me up at 4 am telling them that I was at Melghat, gonna take a trip to Chikaldhara with friends.

I did wake up next day morning at 4 am. Dad did sound suspicious about my intentions. Dad had caught me whenever I had tried to fake anything in the past. He knew the son is adamant. The dharamshala old men hadn’t woken up at 4 am. While I was busy in packing up my bags and getting my bike ready, the bronchitis old man woke up croaking his throat. He bade me goodbye again telling me to visit Rishikesh and Devprayag temples, even Kedarnath. I said ok. It was a cold morning. Haridwar was neither too hot nor too cold. Better than the rest of India which was burning literally in the May end summer. The day was 31^st May. Made my way out of the Haridwar lanes which looked calm then at the dawn.

Searched for a petrol pump. Got one open at Rishikesh. The Ganga river followed on my right side. The tourist vehicles also broke out into the road to the mountains. The hilly track started right at Rishikesh only. The road reminded me a bit of the road to Manali, although the Manali route was a far beautiful one.

Hills after hills. The morning sun shun through on the hill side margins. The river beds looked beautiful. Sand stones all over them. Summer camping facility was available at that time on such spots. The route looked beautiful. 

Twisted roads. Twisted like anything. One could easily see the roads far away climbing up on the side of the mountains upwards. Man had just cut these roads out of the mountains. Such long distance ones. They looked awesome. Frequently I would spot bikes carrying young lads with saffron clothes covering their faces, they didn’t look exactly the bike tour fellows. These lads were actually from mostly Punjab or Haryana, on their way to Hem Kund Saheb. At some places I saw them having langaars. Anyway. Driving in these parts was fun, but for some time only. Devprayag came after a long time from where I had to cross the river. Mandakini and Bhagirathi rivers joined here to form Ganga. People had built a temple down at the spot where the two rivers met. I stood up and watched the people offering prayers at the temple. I kept wondering what would happen to the temple in the rains looking at the black markings on the rivers side mountain walls which marked the height of the water in rains. The straight route would have led to Uttarkashi. I took the right turn, crossing the bridge built on the river. 

The road after Devprayag wasn’t a good one. The mountain sides showed vulnerable spots of landslides. A slight triggering factor would cause the drifting down of the mountain rocks and soil. These scenes showed why landslides were really notorious in Uttarakhand. Basically because the trees had been cut  making way for the soil to loose grip. After Devprayag I had lost the river valley on  my side. The road since then wasn’t a good one to be remembered. Just mountains and forests with very little sightings of living beings.

 I reached Pauri around 10 am. The old men at Haridwar dharamsala had also said that I would be reaching Pauri around 10 am. I kept searching for my university campus. I started spotting the Chirr trees from there onwards. I smiled broadly, I gush of excitement flowed in me as soon I spotted some deodar trees. That marked that I had reached the elevation of yearly snowfall. I had reached some really good height. Had been travelling since past 4 days. I was on plains for past 4 days and now I reached snow height mountains. I had lost my beloved old Nokia mobile that was the only casualty. I never closed my helmet since I started that day morning from Haridwar. Just loved driving through the mountains. The temperature slowly kept dipping. It really felt like being one of the Enfielders going out on long tours, tour to be recorded on magazines.

All I missed was good pillion rider. The other guy could have clicked some awesome pics for sure. I really missed someone like that. It wasn’t feasible for me to stop every now and then to take snaps. I had lost all connections with my watsap and facebook on account of the loss of the mobile. What a guy I was. Bit felt like going into the wild. More like the movie. Should have put on the song from Eddie Vedder, Society. I didn’t have money to survive for one more day. I had to reach my university that day only. the petrol sucked by the bike turned out to be double than what I had expected. The meter reading showed more distance than what we had thought of before setting out from Melghat. I had crossed 1900 kms since leaving Melghat. I remember shouting at Futane at noon that my bike showed 2300 kms when I had crossed Utavali. It was showing 4260 kms now. I kept driving searching for my university.

It was then that I spotted the snow covered white mountain tops very very far away at horizon. It was actually the western top of Gangotri which is visible from Pauri. 

After sometime I spotted a college campus which mistook to be my destination. I drove eagerly towards the college. At the gates I enquired if it was the Horticulture University. The people replied that it was an engineering college and the college I was looking for was at Bharsar, 60 kms from there. My head got some wires fused when I heard of another 60 kms. Damn. I was already exhausted and then I had to bike another 60 kms into the twisted mountain roads. That would take another two hours minimum.

Called up Arjun but he wouldn’t reply. Tiwari answered telling me to look for way to Pabo. Followed that. The route rom Pauri to Pabo was highly deserted, even more lonesome road through forests. It from nowhere looked like a route to a University. After reaching Pabo on enquiring I came to know Bharsar was another 30 kms away. Crossed Pabo to cross a bridge. Another river joined me on my left side this time. Tiwari had instructed to look out villages name Chipalghat, Sainji. Did get them.

The road looked even more like drive into the wild. One peculiar thing I noticed all through my journey was that if I stopped anywhere and asked anyone about directions, the people would pay less attention to what I would say and stare more at my bike, followed by my saddle bag, then my back pack, then at me, and if then they could get gaze at my beard then that expression on their face surely made something to be recorded.

Sainji was followed by Notha. Weird names. Weird people. Asked them if I was on the right route and they gave an assertion. The road after Notha was an even more deserted one with denser forests and the road kept going uphill like anything. I stopped after sometime, not to click any pic or get freshened, but sorely out of frustration. I spoke to myself ‘this road from nowhere looks like a road to a university where 250 students stay and study. Even if it really is I am sure someone is insane enough to build an university up here and the students are crazier to stay in such a deserted atmosphere.’

I again sat back on my bike. That time I was like to just keep driving with no aspirations. After sometime appeared a board with Bharsar written in hindi. I finally breathed a sense of relief. Took a right turn from there, speeding up to find out the damned university, to spot the a big gate right infront of me. I slowed down to read what was written around it to find that I had reached my destination.

Drove into the gates slowly when a gate keeper walked out to me. He kept staring at my bike asking almost with no interest “kisse milna hai?”

I rode off my bike seat, opened my helmet. “Mai doctor hoon.”

The guy was left speechless for some moment. He kept staring at my beard for sometime and again passed his gaze at my bike number plate, murmuring softly “ye Maharashtra ki gaadi hai?”

I said yeah.

“aap kaha se aa rahe ho?

“Maharashtra se.”

“seedhe Maharashtra se chala ke?”

“haan.”

The responses after that was well known to me. Same set of questions again.

I signed my checking in time. Asked where the guest house would be. Drove off.  

The fellow’s name was Vinod. He was the first person I met in the campus. The second person was Taju, the Dean’s cook at the Guest House. First day at the mountain was great. Second day onwards, followed frustration to be alone. Later we just get used to everything. Human nature. The guest house was the most deserted and you could possibly say the most haunted place to be in the campus. Built on hill top, the guest house was the highest point inside the campus. Just two attendants would stay there all the time in the 60 roomed guest house. Deers could be spotted straying just behind the guest house. The area behind the guest house was densely forested. One could bear to come out of there anytime. Evening onwards chilled winds howled the guest house. I finally got to leave the guest house after  days, received a type 3 flat, just for myself. Melghat and Bharsar were just the total opposites of each other. While Melghat had problems with accommodation, less salary, lesser provision of basic amenities, too much gossiping and buzzing all round the day. Bharsar had too much facilities, while the type 3 flat given to me at Bharsar resided by me alone, at Melghat such a flat would accommodate around six people. Bharsar had a buzzing salary and too less people to set sights on. Loneliness would speak up like anything at Bharsar. Thanks to Satav Sir for whatever I could learn from him in four months. He would arrange for classes every week. And Melghat had O.T, just with the shitty gynecologist. Bharsar had nothing like that. The University health centre had two beds, hardly ten patients a day, the two pharmacists kept the hospital up to date. While at Melghat the Doctors would be expected to do jobs of attendants and pharmacists as well. Melghat khs didn’t have an ambulance, where as Bharsar had one. The Mahaan trust was better equipped for rural health care at Melghat than the ever rotten Khs.

The June month I kept indoors at Bharsar. The rains had set in making it difficult to roam out with bike on account of the landslides and road blocks. The farthest distance was to Srinagar, Uttarakhand. July came with me planning up trips.

Over one month of locked up on the mountains, with temptations to view the surrounding places and to ride down on the plains again .. that brought the ‘Road to Uklana’, on 9^th July.

20 July 2015