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....