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