60KPH's Bribe to ride : Dangs 2008

Take some elements of long route biking, off-roading, dirt biking, biking in torrential rains, camping in the rains, tribal-dancing, bathing in waterfalls - put them in a blender and hit the highest speed button and voila a very potent concoction called "Bribe to ride : Dangs 2008" is ready. CheerZ Maite!! 

This ride was christened “Bribe to ride” for many a reasons. In case you’re wondering how much we bribed..heres a pic from the sting op on it and a pic of our not-so-malnourished Ghareeb No. 1.

  

It all started with a spark that flew out from a fire that was extinguished before it could catch wind. Rumors were rife that some in the club were getting paid to ride. It was indeed a fancy idea and how could one be averse to encash all the kms from his/her odometer. To be able to satiate our desire to ride and then be paid for it… and so we all had a good laugh at the sheer propensity of the loony mind that cooked up this idea and that's how the idea "Bribe To Ride" germinated.

I had travel plans for US which seemed to overlap with the ride plans for DANGs and so could never confirm on the message board. But every time i would visit the board, it would stir up my frustrations with all those effervescent, gung-ho camaraderie brewing up for this ritual event. I would sulk for having to watch another big ride opportunity pass by. AGAIN. And so one fine day, i made a choice at the spur of the moment, and that was - come what may i have to be a part of this biker-orgy. I had to be a Ghareeb (the confirmed riders) and was disgusted at myself from the continuous questioning from my fellow brethren - "Kahaan ameer-wa rahe ho?" 

I was not available to transport my bike to Mumbai and I surely couldn’t ride till Mumbai due to lack of time. That’s when Pravo came to my rescue and coordinated the logistics for me and WildChild agreed to lend me his El Silverado for the ride. Armed with that mettle and confidence i countered my work responsibilities and confirmed myself for this ride on the board. While some were happy to have me around and some were baying for my blood for my ‘pappu’ remark. I was apprehensive at first that it might invoke antagonism but then i thought it would be wiser to apologize personally, though i had already done so on the board. Anyways, my brethren was kind enough to take me back into the circle with open arms and affectionate hearts. A salut to the 60kph spirit. 

And so i rushed back to India, packed my stuff and then flew to Mumbai on 13th. I was accompanied by Pravo n Paddy. Shivesh flew in from Hyd. And so we were rushed off to the party at Yeur Hills, Thane by Manoj, Gaurav’s friends. Enroute we had grabbed some snacks courtesy Manoj. Somehow his style n mannerisms were always reminding me of Bhiku Matre. Our venue for the party was inside the Sanjay Gandhi National Park...At around 1 am in the night, the slow uphill winding curves washed by rains, with dense foliage on either side made me wonder as to where we were being escorted to. Enroute, I saw hoardings announcing the territories of several inhabitants like Spotted Deer, Black Naped Hare, Barking Deer, Porcupine, Palm Civet, Macaques, Hanuman Langur, Indian Flying Fox, and Sambhar etc. But on that night the jungle was being held ransom by the Nangs partying and preparing for Dangs. 

Bang gang(SatRao, DaSanjuz, Biju, BheeshNu, Srini and Masood) and Kauk from Cop gang were already there to greet us. And so were BBGang (Gaurav, Dipsy, VU, Shridhar, Histasp aka German, Milind and Nikhkhil). Rahul aka Mamaji and Veena had come in from Nagpur while Rajdeep had also flown in from Delhi a few hours back. Pleasantaries were exchanged; booze started to flow while I wolfed some goodies as my dinfast (Dinner+Breakfast). Special thanks to Paddy for the mouth watering brownies which I happen to be munching from Delhi airport. Very soon began the ceremony of the introduction of newbies – Shivesh and Masood. They had to perform the Nagin dance which really had us all in splits. Also they found it a Hurculean task to spell out Histasp’s name. Lil' did we know that such histrionics would have us all in raptures of laughter in the next few nights. 

 

So on 14th Morning, while we were loading our bikes - Vinod aka Donniv and Smit joined us. I have only praise, admiration and respect for the indomitable ‘Spirit of St Smitz’. This Rothmans guy is armed with witty repartees coupled with an ever-smiling face and a cheerful disposition. The road beckoned and we complied. Leaving the maddening crowd of Mumbai we were soon on the roads via Thane - Shahapur - Igatpuri - Nasik – Kasbe - Vani - Sarad – Saputara. Somewhere in between it started to rain and that’s how it remained for the next 2-3 days. A few kms short of Saputara we stopped for Sobby, Sanjay aka Gudds and his better half Aradhana aka Bulls, and Param who were riding in all the way from Delhi and were coming in from the opposite direction. So we stood in the middle of the Highway discussing on all issues under the missing Sun while one or two riders were sent in either direction to hunt for a place to spend the night. We always had the option of pitching out tents but couldn’t find a place big enough to accommodate all the tents and people and also giving a place dry enough for all to sit, chat and prepare food on the sanjha-chulha. So somewhere in Saputara, Dipsy managed to find a shelter for us with rooms and a long dining space to accommodate all. Amidst rains and fog, luggage was unloaded and put into the rooms and soon people freshened into dry clothes and gathered for the feast. Amidst litres of tea cups and other rejuvenating beverages, Shivesh and Masood were introduced to the fellow riders who had joined us today. This time around they stood on the table while we were seated around it as their style and mannerism has left an impact on all of us and none wanted to miss their eccentricities and quirks. They merrily answered all queries and were sporting enough to face the relentless outpour of questions. 

Somewhere in the middle of the night Jay aka Bapu, Amol aka Himalayan Monk and Anshuman joined us. It kept raining the whole night and there was a billowing fog around us when we woke up the next morning. Very soon Amol (The Monk who didn’t sell his RE) was the most sought after person as many bikes refused to start. The Monk had arrived in the middle of the night amidst rain and fog and now he was like an expert surgeon performing surgery on patients one after the other while we stood there like nurses watching him in action. After having litres of tea, we headed off to a small waterfall that was 2kms before Ahwa Town. Some amazing ideas were envisioned under the cool and clear waters of the water fall. The story of victory of good over evil was enacted with our muscular Masood(Haddi mein cuts) had slayed giant Goliaths like Sobby and Dipsy…bhery bhery filmy, I say. 

 
 

Then we headed to a place called Borkhal where we pitched tents in the surrounding gardens of a PWD house. Some preferred to utilize the courtyard to stretch out.

Then began the process of gathering wood, starting the fire and cooking food., antakshari and some really vigorous beating of thalis (by Gaurav,Anshuman and Srini) to produce some fusion of latino, rock, samba and adivasi music. Dancers joined in with the drummers and they all went into frenzy. 

 

Rajdeep did one item song which was inspired by some epileptic patient who was on fire. I have never seen so many part of human body vibrate in so many directions at one time. The dance gained rhythm gradually and ended in an orgasmic bang. 

 

The dancer and were visibly exhausted. That was the final item for that night. The troupe then broke out and we were all having dinner bathed in the moonlight with occasional pitter patter of the rain. Weary and drenched, we all shacked up in the arms of Morpheus. 

Next day, on 16th Morning, we had a visitor who seemed to be a govt official in charge of that place. What sounded like a sarkaari authoritative tone soon ended in a whimper when Baapu and Dipsy intervened. Soon he was smiling into our cameras and Dipsy was test riding his RE. We got access to rooms where we dumped our luggage, locked it and headed out for some adventure. Somewhere near Mahaal, GJ announced that “Life mein thoda adventure hona chahiye” and then he smiled and asked – “Do you guys want some off-roading?” Hell Yeah! And so we headed off into a steep jagged rocky climb which entered into a swamp! Every now and then bikes would stand still and dig out a huge ditch while the biker revved to get his bike out. And those who came to help push out the bike, they would be sprayed with mud as they tried lifting the mud spinning rear tyre. So slippery was the paths that at times we were riding the bike tangentially to the path ahead. The bike would skid and slip in every direction, the mud pools were knee deep. I had to stop somewhere in panic which I felt something squirm in my shoe. A lil froggie had an adventure of its life when it was released to its aquatic world after having been kidnapped in my size 11 shoe. A 3km stretch of adrenaline pumping ride, to and fro, was enough to have me exhausted, panting, sweating and extremely happy to be back on the terra firma. It is by far the most amazing dirt stretch that I have ever done. Despite all attempts to keep my eyes on the track I couldn’t help but admire the bamboo foliage creating a tunnel overhead. Every skid would zap me out of that mesmerizing beauty of the jungle around me. 

 

There onwards we headed off to a huge waterfall at Bhaiskartri. It was an amazing ride as the rains had washed cleaned the smooth roads. Soon people were jumping into the water fall with their dirty clothes and shoes on. After all the fun and frolic, a pot was lighted and thus began the maggi session. Hungry and famished from the dirt biking venture and then at the waterfall, the maggi was a welcome break. It was a delight to have piping hot maggi amidst rain and mist. 

Later that night, BangGang volunteered to try their culinary skills under the supervision of Bulls. And after dinner, we had Shivesh giving edutainment on the science of Anthopology. And that’s how the phrase “Maa Ki Anthopology” was coined. 

Next morning, on 17th, we again had bike problems and so Amol was reckoned. I had to refuel my bike so Dipsy and I headed towards Ahwa, while people were busy preparing breakfast. We had tea while my bike had a belly full of fuel. With no sign of the remainder of the group, we decided to ride ahead slowly and wait for others to catch up. But with a constant downpour, we decided not to stop and continued moving ahead. The route taken was Ahwa - Waghai - Vansda - Dharampur - Vapi - Charoti - Manor – Mumbai. As we got closer to Mumbai, Dipsy’s phone began ringing too frequently. He was M.I.A. (missing in action) and his clients wanted to close some deals urgently. It was as if the nation was on fire to get themselves inked and our Dipsy was the only beacon of hope for them. Very soon I was absorbing Gyaan on the art of tattooing from Dipsy aka Wild Child aka Dipesh Shah dot orgy aka http://www.dipesh-shah.org. Later that day, after indulging in the amenities of civilization, Dipsy and I headed off to GJs place where we awaited the rest of the gang. One after the other the weary warlords (in those protective biking jackets) started to arrive with stories about traffic jams. Later in that night GJ explained how he does editing of movies and then showed us glimpses of OCR. It was almost a Directors special screening for select audience. My choice of words for it won’t do justice to some out of the world experiences that have been captured in that movie. Just watch it to believe it and later on you can curse yourself for not being there. But for now I am a happy Ghareeb. 

Hygiene is for pansies

I personally feel that the concept of personal hygiene, etiquette, courtesies are as oblivious to many fellow countrymen and choosing this topic to write i haven’t gone burying my nose into places and spaces. These are just a collection of random observations from my routine life.

We have a glorious history of having The Great Bath of Mohenjodaro but somewhere down the line evolution took its toll and gave us Anosmia: loss of the sense of smell. When it comes to personal hygiene and etiquettes we are openly violating its precepts and often making its doctrines the subject of sarcasm and silly jests? Still don’t catch a drift of my ramblings? Then imagine this

The strong pungent onion odor emanating from a colleagues breath is a quick remedy for jostling one out from a post lunch droopy eye syndrome. Heaven help you if you were to discuss something important with him in a closed room. Our love for onions have actually brought down governments, so post lunch onion breath validates a simple popular doctrine - If you aren’t with us then you are against us. We love onions and garlics. And dare challenge us; a prompt harangue is ready with the medical benefits of onions and garlics. Recently i happen to travel to my client’s location at USA, and one striking thing that i have noticed is that they all smell good from miles. Now compare this, except for the malls in our country, how many other places have you come accross scent/perfume shops? Zilch! And during our shopping binge how many times have we bothered to indulge ourselves with a good cologne/perfume? Ok. So coming back to my recent experience, here i am at the client location feeling happy that atleast i am not making them turn their noses when they are around me. So i am not sporting a Dolce and Gabbana, Armani, Lacoste, Polo, Ralph Lauren but then i am pretty happy with my Nike cologne. And i wait for a colleague from India who is to join me in my assignment here. In comes an unshaven lad with an acrid smell of garlics. I am more than tempted to inquire if we have launched a Garlic soap during my absence from India or if it’s an in-thing nowadays to smear your body with garlic paste. But i bite my tongue and hope that i catch common cold.

And then there are those who routinely go out for a puff. These are the smoke dragons. The smoking areas nearby the office are generally the best place to catch up on office gossip n rumors. And so people often come back from such places brimming with excitement and will often get too uncomfortably close to my ears to tell me stories which go "You know what ....” In my grimace, i forget to appreciate the gesture of them sharing news with me and end up advising them to have some mint.

Its one thing to be donning a tuft of vegetation in your armpits and another be so goddamned lazy so as to not use a razor/trimmer to weed out that area. I know of people whose Hyperhidrosis accentuated with their onion/garlic rich diet makes me squirm in my seat whenever i see them coming towards me..cauz even when they've left their 'presence' remains, a painful reminder of the torture that i mutedly underwent while maintaining my courteous demeanor.

And finally, there are those who unashamedly display this syndrome - that gases are meant to be expelled - and that too with all aplomb. There is limerick which goes - he belches or farts, the wind is equally strong from either part. Some thunderous belches are often accompanied by a loud and fervent obeisance to gods. These are mostly solo acts and therefore not much harm is done. But at times you’re so engrossed in the middle of a very serious, eye brows arched, arms failing, "today-we-end-global warming" kinda discussion when BANG...your nasal hair is singed, you brain is reeling under the trauma from the shock to the receptors in your nose, suddenly you realize that you have lost track of what you were going to say; and that crucial thought process goes poof and you sit there ..blank... while the tormentor continues, you are transported to a world where you're analyzing the source of chemicals that are now suspended in the air. What could he have eaten??? ...he said he a vegetarian then why this disgusting smell of dead carcass.

Then there are times when i am working hard, steadfast concentration, typing fast, straining my eyes on the monitor when suddenly i am taken off gaurd by a squeaky chemical weapon of mass destruction. Since i can never know the direction from where the missile was hurled; thanks to central air-conditioning; i just hold my breath, leave the seat to get a cup of coffee and hope that the gaseous cloud would have moved on by the time i come back. What i have learnt is that one should never hold one's breath if he wishes to hold his fort; because one inhales much faster after such spells of breath-holding sessions thereby inflicting greater magnitude of pain upon oneself. I have often come across many a nonchalant 'Gaseous Clay' who have mastered the art of tilting a little while seated for work and then relieving themselves without even breaking their pace. And the Brits are to be blamed for it. They gave us "Excuse Me" for pardoning one self from burping but left us in the dark when it came to farting in public. There was this time when i ran to catch a lift whose doors were closing. I just about managed to jab my hand at the closing door and was happy to have made it. As the doors were closing i realized why the only other person standing in that lift hadn’t bothered to stop the doors from closing. I pressed the button to operate the lift fans but it wouldn’t work, and i started to feel as if the lift had also lost its consciousness and was slowing down. So i turned around to stare at my co passenger who just stood there, head held high with a firm gaze. If only i could tear out the non functional fan and place it at the source of this smell.

Then there was a time, when me and my biker friends rode down to a remote desolate hilltop. Amidst all camaraderie and bonhomie a 4 man tent was setup while it was drizzling and then we quickly got into dry clothes and lay down to rest our aching back and to call it a night. So when the torch lights went out and we were rewinding the beautiful landscapes we all had seen when something close to a Klaxon was sounded. We were all out of our droopy eyed stupor and went "What in heavens name was that?" that went we were hit by the deadly smell. Immediately it was a brawl as we couldn’t go out as it was raining and we couldn’t open our tent flaps lest the slant rain creep in. And the more the victims cussed and cursed the happy faced accused; he would promise not to repeat it and we all would settle down and the Klaxon was sound again.

And so life continues to place me in such situations where i feel like corking their orifices and then applauding the effrontery to having dared to implement such novel and innovative ideas. So if frogs had wings, they wouldn't bump their asses when they hop! meaning 'If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.'

Romancing the roads!

Camping in the laps of mother nature, trekking in the remote hilly areas are a few outdoor activities that can easily be fathomed by a sane mind, but why does such a journey/adventure have to be risked by travelling on a motorcycle – this is one often asked question that no matter how hard i try to answer without losing its quintessence, I fail. Reason - whenever such a question is directed to me, there is a flurry of excitement in me, the neurons in my brain start firing signals like a anti aircraft gun on an approaching target, the number of thoughts being processed are often more than what my mind can streamline to make a coherent speech...and so I start rambling and stop abruptly, when I see that I have lost the interest of the listener. And so i just make a face and shrug my shoulders while the questioner gives me that what-an-idiot look.

And so I try again, in text – only this time I can arrange and rearrange my thoughts to make them coherent.

Before a satiating experience comes the want for it. I would often see those numerous bikers (mostly foreigners) on the hills and would ponder as to why they left their developed nations to be riding a motor cycle here in these deplorable conditions. What kind of adventure are they out to experience, that I, as a resident have never bothered to taste. So finally one day i mustered enough courage to embark upon a similar journey. And that changed everything. I have come to realize that there is so much beauty in my country in terms of scenic landscapes, diversity in language and food, consistent hospitality towards strangers. Agreed that many a times and places the hygiene is missing, omnipresent poverty, over populated places, traffic snarls, and corrupt officials BUT the land and its pristine beauty can only be experienced when you take the roads less trodden and traverse through India without any maps or plans. And a two wheeler would often take me to places where 4 wheelers seldom travel, into the thickest of foliage, near the river banks, closest to the shores and places where there are no roads. From dense vegetation to endless dry arid lands, from scorching sands to bone chilling cold with snow laden places.

Agreed that a person on a two-wheeler is more susceptible to road accidents but then i am a strong believer in fate/destiny. The place and time of my death are decided so why bother about such things. I could very well be seated comfortably in the confines of my office/home/restaurant and experience a mishap. The road fatality statistics were never a deterrent. And I don’t necessarily venture out to seek mishaps. My Mool Mantra - never be a speedy gonzales, stay focused, let every speeding, honking vehicle overtake me, frequent breaks to avoid fatigue – this will surely keep mishaps at bay. I know one day my life will flash before my eyes. I just want to make sure it’s worth watching.

With this mindset, i was embraced by a family of people whose adventures make mine so insignificant that i could only request them to make me a part of all such expeditions. And so whenever time and other constraints permit i indulge my senses into this mortal sin called 'Biking'. A Biker - the name conjures thoughts about speeding, wheelies, stunts, grizzly hair long beards, leather pants, marijuana and that silly telly programme called roadies.

My group of amigos is far, far away from such traditions. All of us are well settled professionals who would come across to you as your standard Tom Dick and Harry. Some of us are married with kids. Some of us are ladies and some are even past 50(with unmatched enthusiasm). Though there is absolutely no compulsion on the choice of the manufacturer/model of the two-wheeler, yet most of us have Royal Enfield Bullets. My steed happens to belong to the Royal Enfield stable, and has been a steadfast reliable enduring companion in all my adventures. If i have the will power, my steed has the brute strength to execute my dreams. So someone announces his plans and others join in as per their convenience. And many a times we start off as strangers and are good friends by the end of the ride.

There are hiccups like flat tyres, snapped clutch wire, oil leakage. And yes i have fallen, have got cuts, bruises and aches, messed up clothes, tanned my skin in places to make me resemble a Dalmatian, but all this is miniscule in front of the beautiful countryside of my motherland. Such pristine and flawless is the beauty that words fall short in description. You just have to stand in awe and experience it. There are seasons when one can view a breathtaking mix of greens, yellows, browns, reds and such, all blending into a colorful tapestry of color. There are places that seem like a vast ocean of dry arid land and then there are some places that offer a picturesque view of those majestic Himalayan range. The Sun rises and sets everyday everywhere, but in the hills, it conjures up so many hues in the sky and with a backdrop of absolute silence, it automatically makes one contemplative. No wonder the sages/sadhus used this landscape as their dwelling during their quest for nirvana.


And it’s sad how we inherit such beauty, enjoy it and leave behind a trail of litter, plastics and other disposables with wanton behavior. The rivers in the higher mountains are so pure that even the foreigners drink from it. And sadly enough, as the altitude descends, the amount of human filth going into them ascends.

In retrospect, i have always found life to be like the roads. It can make the journey a pleasure and can also be a merciless punisher. It can be a straight line till the eyes can see and can also meander like a snake. Sometimes there are steep arduous climbs and then there are frolicking descends. There are roads which are as smooth as an airport runway and then at times they can be miles and miles of back breaking rumble-strip. Nevertheless, the traveler moves on tired but undeterred, for what is the purpose of a journey if that journey doesn't include some broken roads? A seasoned rider knows that the lessons to be learned come from the journey, not the destination


Life's like a road that you travel on
When there's one day here and the next day gone
Sometimes you bend sometimes you stand
Sometimes you turn your back to the wind
There's a world outside every darkened Door
Where blues won't haunt you anymore
Where the brave are free and lovers soar
Come ride with me to the distant shore
We won't hesitate break down the garden gate
There's not much left today
Life is a highway
I want to ride it all night long
If you're going my way
I want to drive it all night long

There's no load I can't hold
Road so rough this I know
I'll bee there when the light comes in
Tell 'em we're survivors
………. Tom Cochrane - Life Is A Highway

When Mars and Venus collided

Statuary warning: As this writing is from a mordant Martian, it is dripping with male chauvinism and might offend some venusian readers. Reader discretion advised.

To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do us part.

These magic words bring a Martian and a Venusian together on Earth, where they live happily married thereafter. Atleast, that’s how it seemed when the world would look at them through their telescopic eyes. But on a microscopic level, they were just two individuals from Mars and Venus struggling to create an euphoria, without letting go of their individualities. Little did the Venusian know that after becoming a bride comes the ordeal of being a wife. Poor Venusian, all she wanted was the ceremony, not the marriage.

She had starved and slogged to wear those umpteen dresses tailored for a certain size, minus 1. And on the day of marriage, a cameraman was threatened with dire consequences if he happened to miss a blink that she gave. For that was culmination of her entire existence till that day. With those memories so beautifully caught on tape (actually they could have been better had we used the services of the other photographer....an oft-said statement that went like a prelude to the video.) And so she would spend the rest of her life watching and admiring the beautiful bride in that video. After lots of snacks, cold drinks that accompanied the vidoe viewing for n number of times a day, she would one day happen to look at herself in the mirror and then catch hold of her poor unsuspecting Martian and blame him for all that she has become. Blame him for how he used to swoop her in his arms then and how devoid of love he has become now. He would be told to swear upon his ancestry to convince her that there was no other woman in his life. Whereas the fact of the matter is that, now, every attempt of sweeping her off her feet would cause him a week long back ache. To add salt to injury would come the loving reply - "You have grown old. Accept it". And should the Martian dare challenge her, he would surely have to sleep empty stomach in the next room.

This Venusian was a living example of "I love my mother but i dont want to be like her" and the Martian was blind in his wisdom attained through the struggles that life had laid out for him. He looked inwards to find happiness while she would look for happiness outside. For him, adventure was a night spent in the woods, and the morning dew of the forest would rejuvenate him. For her adventure would mean an air conditioned drop to a luxury hotel where sleeping till late afternoons would rejuvenate her. He slogged hard for his 6 pack abs while she packed tyres around her waist. He was a health freak while she ate like there's no tomorrow.

Despite all this and much more, they lived together and cultivated their eccentricities. A silent pact would often form to enjoy life on their own individual terms, as all such acts of togetherness would often result in "Just another fucked up day in paradise". Their friends gifted them writings of John Grays and Richard Bachs so that they could build a bridge across forever between their respective planets. So while he devoured all text; she could never get past the preface. He would devour her cooking and lick the vessel off to the last crumb as a sign of appreciation, whereas she would only be contended upon hearing the soft cooing words of appreciation. He would believe in acts of love and sacrifice; while she would only remember the days on which the words of love were uttered. Living in utopia, the Venusain would feel as a slave girl attending to the needs of her Martian, and so the Martian learnt how not to be dependent on his companion from Venus for his day-to-day needs. And that aggravated her which in turn confused the Martian because all he would hear from his Venusian was that no matter what he did it was never good enough as he was just doing his own chores.

The Venusian wanted that the Martian should wear a barbed live wire around him with a signboard "Keep away. He is mine. Trespassers eyes shall be gouged". The Martian was so defiant and adamant for not wearing a wedding ring while the Venusian considered the tradition of covering her head in family gatherings so passé and countrified. While he would like her hennaed hands, she would get her hair streaked. While she would like him to sport a mane, he would not let go of his U.S. Marine look.

And with each having their own orbital path and trying to revolve together, they were bound to collide. And so they did. So now, with each back to their respective planets, the Venusian is watching "Chalte-Chalte" (that Shahrukh Khan and Rani Mukherjee flick) after every meal.

And the Martian is doing the Dard-E-Disco jig thrice a day.

So do opposites attract or do birds of a feather flock together? That’s another topic that can be debated with no satisfactory answers.

C'est la vie....

My First Ride - Trip To Naukuchiatal

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Sometime back, i happened to be at a resort at Kullu on a company sponsored excursion.We were enjoying themselves to the hilt doing river rafting, trekking, playing volleyball in the lap of nature when suddenly there was roar which stopped every one in their tracks and had everyone running towards the direction from which the sound was coming. Lo Behold! There was this group of riders on their machines, thumping off to scale the heights of Himalayas. And all of a sudden everything around me changed ...i started questioning my existence, my whole life seemed worthless. In a flash the sense of happiness & contentment changed into a saddening hollowness. I could not come to terms with the fact that i too had a similar machine for three years but had never been able to enjoy a ride full of adventures of such proportions.

And so i came back weary hearted and started off with my mundane life, but all along the craving to be on the road with my machine was driving me insane ...to be able to ride my Enfield through forested ranges, foggy crests, lush meadows, winding rivers, moon-like ravines just for the sheer pleasure of riding. And one day while brooding alone in the office cafeteria, like an angel to a troubled soul walked in the remedy to this problem. Colleagues Vijay (a veteran rider) and Harish were part of a riding club and agreed to my coaxing them for a ride. A call was sounded to gather fellow enthusiasts. A trip was planned for the coming weekend. The destination unknown...a true sign of a biking enthusiast.

Vijay and Harish brought With them their vast experience and knowledge of the limitations of the machines, handling a bike breakdown, riding in a formation, the group dynamics and coordination in short, the what-to-do & what-not-to-do of long distance biking. The direction that this group would take was decided on the penultimate day. And so a dream transformed into a plan and that’s how i started out on my first ever adventure on my bike.

Noida - Naukuchiatal - Jim Corbett Reserve - Noida.

Total distance covered 657kms

Time spent riding: 22 hours

Total Time spent: 46 hours

Day 1(Saturday 8th July) 5am

Actually my day had begun even before the previous day's sunset. The anxiety had me awake all through the night. I must have woken up thrice to check the time and if the alarm was on. Finally i reached the venue and was glad to see Vijay and Harish already waiting there. So the plan is on and i am not dreaming again... We ran through our checklist and had a quick photo session and then Vijay gave us a brief on how to ride in a group. Experience matters!!!! Then all our engines roared in unison as if a hungry Lion was awake and was readying it self for a kill. So our engines began feasting itself on the roads and we drove off into the sunrise...
The first stop was on a roadside dhaba at Garhmukteshwar for breakfast. Had some traditional parathas and tea. And no sooner had we finished eating we were all eager to hit the road again.
The first great stretch was the NHAI ByPass Road where we had to stop to take some pics of the beautiful countryside. The skies were clear and it seemed as if we had left the seltring heat of Delhi behind. Pics done, it was time to burn the rubber and soon we were thumping again. We took a small halt after crossing Rampur via Moradabad. Then afterwards the landscape was totally different. The roadsides were greener and the air had a certain cleanliness/freshness in it, which only a person living at Delhi could appreciate.

From Bilaspur and via UdhamSingh Nagar we entered PantNagar, the roads of which had foliage around it providing a kind of green tunnel.

Somewhere in the greenery of Pant Nagar and on our way to Haldwani we took a small halt to stretch our legs and had some refreshments ...a cool mint laced freshly grounded sugarcane juice. After Haldwani it seemed as if the foothills of Himalayas had suddenly cropped up out of nowhere and we were slowly climbing up the snaking roads into Kathgodam. Shuffling in between our 2nd and 3rd gears we reached Bhimtal. Having done the plains at speeds of 80-100 kmph, it was all together a different experience driving on roads which suddenly did a 90 degree turn with the rocks on one side and 60 feet deep 'khai' on the other side of the road. It made my head dizzy trying to focus on my driving as well as trying to gauge the depth of these slopes. From Bhimtal we headed off to Naukuchiatal. Upon reaching there i did a run across the circumference of the lake as if to pay obeisance to the lake. A huge Hanuman (god of strength) temple held fort at one end of the lake. From there we headed off on a 45 degree inclined road to finally reach the resort where we would be checking in. At 3pm we finally turned off the ignition of our bikes and stepped on the terra firma. To me it was an experience of a lifetime. A trip across lands and rivers and ravines that i had only read of and had imagined.
After a late lunch every one was out with their cameras and pretty soon Vijay was giving us a crash course on professional photography. Photography buff that he is, we had some ‘gyaan’ sessions on the features of our cameras and how to take pictures and not just click pics. The resort that we had checked in was situated on the lake. The lake was actually getting bifurcated on the rock on which this resort steadily stood. Some amazing moments spent in the tranquility of this heavenly place trying to absorb the beauty and serenity of the place. Such is the freshness of the air there that we hardly felt any road-weariness and we all were up and ready for some trekking. Taking an offbeat track we headed off into the hills thinking that we were venturing into a place where no man has venture (ok…. or at least where people rarely go). But alas on top off the hill stood a row of houses and a small make shift dhaba where we went and had tea and had a good laugh at our selves for our failed attempt at being Columbus and Vasco-de-Gama. Amidst that laughter and tea we even checked out the real-estate prospects from the locals there.
Back at the resort all of us had dinner and made plans about what adventure activities we would be doing the following day (like boating, paragliding, etc). And interesting observation was that we all slumped into our beds and were lying on our stomach and not on our backs. Before dozing off we all were discussing on how the first thing that we would do upon reaching home was to modify our bikes seats and were discussing the possibilities of surgically enhancing our behinds to add more cushion to it.

Day Two: 6 am

Opened my eyes to a lovely chilly weather with the pitter-patter of the rain. For a moment I thought I was still dreaming but then the mist from the rain on my face made it all look too real for a dream. What a way to wake up! From the resort officials we came to know that it had been raining the entire night. So a quick meeting was called to discuss the agenda for the day ahead. Over umpteen cups of tea, it was finally decided that we head to Jim Corbett Falls as the reserve was closed due to the mating season of the tigers. With a beautiful weather like that what else could one do... ;-)
Leaving the tigers to enjoy the season we decide that we could visit the Falls and so out came the rain coats and in went everything into plastic bags (for water proofing). And so the journey began.
It was an experience to drive down the hills the rains. Visibility was low because of the clouds and the rains, the tarmac was slippery and small rivulets of rainwater on the roads were racing with us. We were driving at speeds of 20-30kmph. Many a times i was distracted by the beautiful landscapes, the scenic step-farming with water clogged fields of crops, the clouds below and suddenly the road would take a sharp bend and i would jolt out of my dream and take a vow to keep my eyes on the road only. Well all through the journey on the hills i kept making and breaking such promises. We had stopped somewhere to refuel our machines for the journey back. Due to the incessant rains, water had somehow managed to enter my petrol tank while I was refueling. And then to my utter horror my bike started stalling. Dr Vijay came to the rescue. I told him about my bikes symptoms and the medical history and very soon he diagnosed that it was due to the water in my carburetor. So Dr is that critical or what? I asked. And the Dr replied, nothing to worry about…. just keep revving whenever the engine tries to die out.
And very soon my bike and I were back to normal. So we stopped at some dhaba for breakfast. The tea served at dhabas complemented by the rainy weather had a very rejuvenating and refreshing effect on us. Then we had the usual rounds of paranthas with some more tea. Down from the hills, we entered the plains and congratulated each other for having driven safely thru such difficult terrains. Once on the plains our gears changed and so did our speeds.We headed off to Jim Corbett Falls. To get a taste of what we were heading for do visit http://www.corbettpark.com/. It was a great thrill to ride through a forest range known for its tigers and elephants. The dark grey road winding its self amidst a thick greenery with strange sounds of birds and insects with the awareness that there could be tigers and other wild cats nearby had our adrenalin flow steady. The way to the falls happens to be amidst some thick foliage and we over shot it by some 2–3 kms and had to turn back. Finally we reached the falls and once again the cameras were out to capture the magic of nature. The tree vines were the size of anacondas. Peeling off our wet clothes we jumped into the cool waters of the fall and spent about half an hour ‘chilling’ out.
After that we were back on the road and headed towards Moradababd via Kashipur. All along the journey we had spells of shower. So the weather made our journey a pleasure. True to Vijays words of wisdom… our enthusiasm was ebbing out and we were more eager to get home, now that the adventure was over. The stoppages were less and we did stretches of 140 km at one go. We stopped at a dhaba for a late lunch and then vrrroommmed to Noida. It was around 10 pm when we entered Noida and was raining.

Seemed like we had gone into the hills to get the rains.

Mission accomplished. We congratulated each other on the fact that we had a journey without a hitch and none of the machines had any breakdowns. And then we parted ways to head to our homes.

Hope to be on the road soon to some unknown destination driving on unknown roads to discover beautiful India along with my Enfield ofcourse!!!!.