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
