Few conversations and an impromptu journey

This journey, pretty close to being a romantic one, was also - under all measurable criteria - quite a talkative one. D was in Bhubaneswar (mind your b's, v's and pha's when in Odisha) and suggested over a call that we can mix business and pleasure that weekend, as she was relatively less occupied during that period. I checked the ticket rates and to my surprise Indigo's web services software had shockingly failed to apply the surge rates, which generally they so efficiently do. I quickly switched to incognito (you should always do this lest you want all data hungry web crawlers to hog on your personal data - mind you google still has access to your data, even when you are incognito) and booked a return ticket, without burning a deep hole in my pocket.
Meru cabs is the most trustworthy one when it comes to airport drops in Bengaluru, especially when our airport is in Chennai (last checked the latest uber app was allowing me to book cabs well in advance, more than the usual hour or two - yes more power to the consumer!) and even though it was just 5 hours before my journey would commence, the reliable service sent me an assuring message that i'll be picked up on time. The excitement of all this left me sleepless that night which was anyway very short!
Venkatesh called me at 2:30 am sharp, even before message details were sent from Meru. He was all too eager to pick me up for my 5:30 am flight. Within half an hour he called me again informing that he was waiting downstairs. I grabbed my "Oracle - iXL program" bag (that was the only bag that would contain all that I needed for my weekend sojourn - travel light, yes but unlike me do invest in your travel accessories and again unlike me, never disclose your identity via your luggage!) and hopped on the Verito to embark on a short and sweet (it was!) journey.

Venkatesh didn't loose any time to start a conversation - how he used to stay near Bomanahalli, was earlier a freight carrier driver, how he moved on to become a cab driver at Dell call centre and became familiar with Bengalure roads/traffic.

"Moved to Chikkaballapur now, saar...very expensive Bengaluru!"

"Drive two days straight, crash at my relatives sometimes...go to Chikkaballapur every 4-5 days"

"Two kids, one boy one girl...education very expensive here"

"Kids very smart these days, saar, speak fast english...know more about smartphones and tech than us"

"Had to pay 18K for boy's UKG and they were asking for 25K for his first standard...Chikkaballapur much cheaper, only 14K for first standard"


14k!! I bet I had completed my entire schooling in an amount less than that!

"You from Bengaluru?"

Not sure if he heard my response.

"Oh! Siddaramaiah is very corrupt, saar...takes money from everyone...he didn't pass a plan for an IT park near Chikkaballapur since the builder was not paying anything upfront and instead was bargaining to pay after the IT park was ready...he knows he wouldn't be around when they complete it...so was asking for upfront money"

Though I wasn't sleepy yet I was certainly in no mood to have a conversation at that hour. But what he said next, forced me to have an engaging conversation with Venkatesh!

"If i don't talk I'll fall asleep, saar!"

What! No!! You please continue - we might as well discuss global warming, US presidential elections, gonorrhea, piles anything under the sun to keep you awake!
"Pubs - Siddaramaiah has changed the timings now...drink till 1 am now and again he is making money with that."

"Naarth Indian girls drink too much saar...have taught south Indian girls also now"

So probably he did hear my response to his query.

"So drunk they can't even stand straight (makes a gesture with his hand - thumb and lil finger in a straight line and other fingers folded, shakes it then to mean girls unable to stand normally after drinks!)"

"Do not dress well also and in that condition anything can happen...not everyone thinks alike, saar"


Was I supposed to feel offended or tell him that it is their choice to dress, drink or do whatever with their life - instead i did what i do best - made a mumbling sound of neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him and remained silent till he picked up another thread!
"Thanks a lot Mr Venkatesh, it was nice talking to you!", was how this leg of my journey ended.

"Kursi kii peti aise lagayein..." - i had boarded the plane and every time I hear "peti" i can't stop smiling (the way the flight attendants speak Hindi with an English accent, amuses me to the core - in fact i go all bonkers in my head but try to keep only a smiling façade, without offending anyone!)

"Good morning ladies and gentleman, this is your captain, Anand Pillai speaking" - no sooner we were in air the captain decided to show off his oratory skills or probably to show off his, I admit, very thick baritone! It was almost like God talking and keeping us braced about the events at 20K feet above MSL.

"It is around 1200 kms to Bhubaneswar and we'll be covering this distance in little more than an hour and half"

Whoa jet speed - please do your math to get as astonished as I was! (not that this was the first time I was amazed by jet speed but accompanied, as it was, with the heavy baritone, it sounded so incredible!)

And Mr Pillai spoke intermittently throughout the flight from his "flight deck" about temperature, weather in Bhubaneswar and if it is cloudy we might feel some disturbances and jitters. However, it was his rich baritone which reassured me, at least, that such minor hiccups will be well taken care of!
He even spoke in Hindi (minus the accent thankfully), equally reassuringly, about how expertly he will take care of everything - or something similar, I wasn't paying much attention at the content and was rather lost in thoughts of how he could as well earn a living by doing voice overs in movies, ads - oh wait but where is the thrill in that! Here at a height of 20K he can bring people close to divinity, shake the belief of atheists - yup no thrill in being a voice over artist, it was a humbug thought!

"You must have guessed from the engine noise that we are descending..." - this was the last monologue from God! But we guessing from engine speeds - what are we Aeronautic geniuses, come on God!

Bhubaneswar is a relatively clean airport, when compared to the airports in this part of the world (alà Ranchi, Patna, you get the drift I hope). Trying to keep up with the mood and plan of this journey, I thought of taking a bouquet of red roses. As I was waiting at a florist just outside the airport Mr Pandav (the way he came to help me I guess Hanuman would've been an apt name), came rushing towards me.

"What type of bouquet you want Bhaina"
"Colorful - no I don't have roses"
"Where you going sir? Mayfair, come come"

"Aye one to Mayfair", he signaled at the pre-paid taxi counter. May be Pandav was the perfect name, handling everything with dexterity - Pandav is what Pandav does!

As I was waiting for the cab what amused me was the vehicle registration numbers around - OD, overdose! And I was about to know what, or rather whose overdose, was I about to get. I got into the pre-paid cab, which stopped to pick me up and guess who was the driver - Pandav! Did he have 5 twins or pentains or whatever you call it! OD!

"Bhaina this is my cab! I have three more cabs"
"You want bouquet...what is your budget?"
"I know a florist, my shop only, will take you there."
3 cabs, florist! Was he the most understated millionaire of Bhubaneswar!

He helped me get the roses I was looking for and also gave me his number in case I need to see more of his clones - just kidding, what he meant was if I needed any cabs for sight seeing.
Thankfully words from arbitrary characters dried up as I reached my destination. After two interesting, calming but breezy days at Bhubaneswar I am back with lovely memories of a chirpy jouney - full of spoken words and some unspoken ones too, by the way. A plane full of snoring paxs was the last sound of the journey which I remember, before I returned to the cacophony of Bangalore traffic.

November Country (Music)

I had started listening to Bob Dylan cos of my fascination with a certain Mr Jobs and of course because my good friend B used to listen to him. It used to bemuse me how can a guy with minimalist music (usually harmonica and guitar - that is all!) render such beautiful songs! But I may be biased, it was always lyrics for me, music was just a way to remember songs - that again holds only for me!

Last night was one of confusion almost a national emergency and a time of indecision. Shall I go to the ATM now or shall I be dependent on online transactions or may be leave the answer blowin' in the wind!
500/- 1000/- rupee notes were going to be history as we know them and a new set of notes would start flowing in a day or two. ATM's will be closed for two days, bank for a day, you'll be allowed to exchange your notes till 30th December - too much info and as it always happens (with me again) all that drove me to inaction. I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to - not to the ATM even!

The mood carried on to the jingle jangle morning and after explaining my maid the fate of 500/-, 1000/- rupee notes, switched on Apple Music which by default started playing Dylan! Oh yes this man has won the Nobel for literature (not peace right - that was one of those conspiracy theories which has become so stale that it has become a joke!).

Zac Brown Band is another one that makes my kind of music - No Hurry, Chicken Fried, Knee deep. Hard core non-veggies would swear by country chicken and am pretty sure it's the country chicken that was fried for that song!

That's the way you need to take it my countrymen this beautiful November - take it easy, switch off from all the brouhaha and get your
toes in the water, ass in the sand
Not a worry in the world, a cold beer in your hand
Life is good today. Life is good today.

धीमी आंच पर जी है ज़िन्दगी

धीमी आंच पर जी है ज़िन्दगी
कभी उबले नहीं
कभी बिफ़रे नहीं
संचय कर उष्ण को
बिखेरा नहीं व्यर्थ में।

जिरह जो हुई कहीं
राह बदल कर चल दिए
भूलकर सारी बातें
धधके नहीं व्यर्थ में।

झिझक जो मन में आया कभी
विचारों को मोड़ दे दिया
पलट कर कभी उधर गए नहीं
भटके नहीं व्यर्थ में।

पाखंडी

वो जो हममें तुममें दोष है
उसको छुपाने के लिए
आओ थोड़ा ढोंग करें
ताक पर रख कर बुद्धिमता
खुल-ए-आम हुड़दंगी पाखण्ड करें !


रंग-बिरंगी बहती धारों में
पकडें अपनी एक धार
लगाकर गोते, डुबकी उसमें
छक कर उसके लें मज़े
और उसे बर्बाद करें !

सवाल कोई उठाये तो
उसका ही तिरस्कार करें
ओढ़ कर अपनी अभेद सोच
हर नए विचार का बहिष्कार करें !

बारिश और १२'x ७'

"रेखाओं का खेल है मुक़द्दर, रेखाओं से मात खा रहे हो"
वो रात कुछ अजीब थी - अजीब क्योंकि ऐसा कभी सोचा न था की इतनी हँसी ठिठोली वाली शाम एक सुरमयी सफर में तब्दील हो जाएगी।

हम उनके साथ टैक्सी का इंतज़ार कर रहे थे और गाडी के आने पर जैसे ही अंदर बैठे उपरोक्त ग़ज़ल के शब्द ने हमारे कानों को झंकृत किया और हमारे चेहरे पर एक मुस्कान बिछ गयी।  घटाएं बहुत देर से उमड़ घुमड़ रही थी और शायद इसी इंतज़ार में थीं की कब  हमारे सर के ऊपर एक छत आये और कब वो हम पर झपट पडें।  छत कृत्रिम और गतिशील ही क्यों न हो घटाओं से रहा न गया और टप-टपाते हुए बूंदों की पूरी फ़ौज ने हमें घेर लिया।
गहन अँधेरे में सिर्फ टैक्सी की हेडलाइट, जिससे रास्ते से ज़्यादा वो बूँद दृष्टिगोचर हो रहे थे, ही हमारा सहारा थी।  खुली सड़क हो, अँधेरा हो तो उनको वैसे ही डर लग जाता है और आज तो साथ में घनघोर बारिश भी थी - एक तो कोढ़ और उसमे खाज!
उस कृत्रिम छत के नीचे ३ में से २ लोंगो की तो यही सोच थी कि वाह क्या रोमांटिक शाम है, पर नहीं उनकी नहीं।  वो तो डर के मारे काँप रहीं थीं - हालांकि बाद में जब भी ये किस्सा दोहराया जायेगा वो काँपना ठण्ड के मत्थे चढ़ेगा।
फिर वही हुआ जो ऐसे मौंको पर होता है - nostalgia (इस शब्द का गूगल ने हिंदी में अर्थ विषाद बताया है, लेकिन विषाद में जाने क्यों वो रोमांटिसिज़्म नहीं है जो nostalgia में है). हमने उनको बताया की करीब १५ साल पहले जब हम इस शहर में भैया के साथ रहने आये थे, तो ऐसे ही गाने बजाते हुए हमलोग लंच करते थे।  ये सारे गाने मानो भैया के playlist से ही थे - जो हमारे celeron युक्त डेस्कटॉप पर winamp सॉफ्टवेयर  पर बजते थे।
फिर उस सिंगल रूम की यादें बादलों के उमड़ घुमड़ के ही सामान हमारी आँखों के सामने नाचने लगे - वो एक कोने में कंप्यूटर टेबल, उसी के नीचे किताबें और उसी टेबल से लगा हुआ एक कार्टन जिसमे कपड़े, पुरानी किताबें और ऐसी बहुत सारी चीज़ें जो अमूमन ऐसे कोने में पड़े कार्टन में होते हैं।  उसी के ऊपर हैंगर पर टंगे हुए नियमित दिन के कपड़े।  फिर दूसरे छोर पर एक खिड़की जिसके नीचे हमारा तोशक और तकिये और साथ में एक ४'x४' का अटैच्ड गुसल - बस इतना सा ही था हमारा आशियाना।
रूम रहा होगा वो १२'x ७' का जिसमे कभी कभी हमें टेढ़ा होकर सोना पड़ता था अगर तोशक के सिराहने पर किताबों का पहाड़ जमा हो जाता।  पर वो सोना खरे सोने से काम नहीं था और क्या ठाट वाली ज़िन्दगी थी वो - दौड़ भाग कर कॉलेज पहुंचे, सारे क्लासेज कीं और भाग कर वापस आकर पसर गए अपने तोशक पर।  और नींद तो जैसे हमारी अभिन्न मित्र थी - खाना खाया तो नींद, cd लगाकर फिल्म देखना शुरू किया तो नींद, किताब खोली तो नींद।  पर अब शायद वैसी गाढ़ी मित्रता नहीं रही , वो बेपरवाह सोना तो जैसे बंद ही हो गया है अब।

"फिर वही रात है, फिर वही रात है ख्वाब की " - जैसे गीत भी हमारा मन टटोल रहे थे।  ये सारी बातें हमने शुरू की थी उनके ऐसे रात के सफर का डर दूर भगाने के लिए लेकिन सफर ख़त्म होते होते जैसे हमारा ही मन आर्द्र हो गया।

"आजकल पाँव ज़मीं पर नहीं पड़ते मेरे " - गुलज़ार साब के इस गीत के साथ हमारा सफर ख़तम होने वाला था और मेरे भी पाँव ज़मीं पर पड़ने से कतरा रहे थे।  विचारों का साथ गति से छूटने वाला था - जब कोई ऐसी पुरानी यादें जेहन में आती हैं और आप गतिमय होते हैं तो जैसे यादों को भी पर लग जाते हैं , एक साथ कई पुरानी यादें होड़ लगाने लगती हैं।  गति धीमी पड़ने लगी और विचार आख़िरकार थम गए।  

A hug

Life is in perfect harmony when things around you are going just fine. It is like a perfectly tuned guitar and you strum the magical music of life on it and things fall in place - the bass, the percussion et al, added by the other elements in your life which are also in sync.

A hug at this time is a quick one. You don't have time for physical contacts when you are busy playing a divine song. You want to finish the act, which has a remote semblance to the act of hugging, as fast as possible and return back to the rhythm which glides you on.

And then there are days where a few strings fall loose, when your life-guitar is out of tune and things start going awry. Whatever tune you play sounds obnoxious, ugly and absolute rubbish. The audience then gets its cue, shouts expletives at you and pushes you to the altar of failure.

A hug at this time from a loved one ought to be a prolonged one. Tuning needs some time. It needs the two to be in sync, only then your loose strings get attuned. Its like squeezing a moist cloth and what comes out of it are tears that have the magical capacity of acting as grease on the screws that smoothly tighten the strings and you are back on stage playing the tune which everyone adores!

The gist is when life is throwing beamers at you, step back, transfer your weight to your back-foot, position yourself and crack it over the midwicket region.

A new pair

This dialog would seem like directly from the recently released Fan movie:

"Not many people would understand, for them it is just another object. For me, it is my world!"

And this is what exactly happened - got a new pair of glasses and it changed my world. How:

- When the world starts looking different (People in love have claimed this as well but this is seeing world in a new light, literally).

- When the numerals on the vehicles, on the hoardings, on the bumper stickers jump out and start doing the cosmic dance (a la Ramanujan).

- When the gloss on cars start looking glossier, when turquoise starts showing its true color.

- When the sunshine reflecting off the blades of grass and leaves start looking lively and filmy.
- When you can differentiate orange, the fruit from orange, the color (or are they same?!)

You know you have a new world!
Not many people have this privilege of getting a new pair of eyes every few years and see the world and its colors refreshed and repainted. And then while I was enjoying my new world, philosophy kicked in - The world was always the same and it never changed, the only thing that changed was me and my perspective. So if you want to perceive the world differently change yourself since that is the only thing that is under your control!

And as is my wont, let's make this little gross - you can never grow a new pair but you can always revitalize them ;)

Leh: To Heaven through Hell - 5

The Manali-Leh road trip has lot of memories which will stay with me forever! The treacherous terrain, the breathtakingly beautiful La's, the majestic Himalayas, the adventurous journey which one should undertake at least once in a lifetime. Not to forget Border Road Organizations's interesting signboards - Don't be a gama in the land of Lama, The price of greatness is responsibility, et al. We, however, had a false start at Leh. Hotel Snow Lion that we had reservations at, turned out to be quite unprofessional. The surprising thing about the hotel was that there more ladies as attendants than men. We luckily met Mr Lonchay next morning and he offered us to stay at his Lonchay residency. He was quite co-operative and even arranged for a cab for local sight seeing with a very experienced Mr Khunshuk (no he was not related to Phunsuk Wangdu!). Khunshuk had lots of stories from how he served the Indian army during Kargil war (carrying shells on his back) to how the Chinese regularly invade his village and the neighboring ones to threaten them, besides many PJ's. An interesting character, friendly guide/friend and enthusiast in general, straight off a travel book! We had to drop our bullets at Leh market and Tashi was our contact person there - which so reminded me of the movie Kaminey. Tashi, though, didn't meet us in person (it actually felt like a scene from some gangster movie) and instead asked us to meet Tsetan - I guffawed when I first heard this name - isn't it Satan (the devil), with a twisted spelling! However I guess all our share of adventure had thankfully ended as soon as we had entered Leh and the entire episode of handing over the bulls and taking the refund went pretty smoothly. Tsetan was not Satan (quite unlike his name!), after all. We stayed in Leh for a few days and visited the usual Pangong Lake and other tourist stops (honestly my trip had ended as soon as the road trip ended) then took the Leh-Srinagar road to reach Kargil, our next stop. Kargil is a small district which recently has come to prominence because of the Kargil War memorial (which actually is in Drass). We had a reservation at a hotel which was a pretty new one but was quite primitive with respect to the facilities. After we were shown our rooms (decent but not worth the money we had paid), I tried to check for wi-fi speed. To my surprise the closest ping server it detected was in Islamabad, Pakistan.

Kashmir is in complete contrast with Ladakh. As Nehru had mentioned once, Ladakh is a barren land (which it actually is) but which I would describe as raw beauty. Its difficult terrain teaches you to respect nature and even though it is a cold desert the beauty of Ladakh can be best put as pristine or untouched. Kashmir on the other hand is green, white and brown (there were a spectrum of colors there which I was later informed but my color blindness saved me from the color riot) and with equal measure. The hills, ridges in Ladakh are mostly brown or grey while Kashmir valley is mostly green (with white added by the snow). In Kargil, as suggested we took a trip to the local villages and the army cantonment (the last one before the Pakistan border starts). On our way to the cantt, (the hotel had arranged for a Maruti Omni) I was surprised by an Ayatollah Khumeini poster near a village. The place seemed like stuck in a time warp. Khumeini in this age! And to add to that the "Pioneer" was playing a song which brought me another surge of nostalgia - "Zindagi ki dhoop ko saya kar gayi, aaj mere paas se wo guzar gayi...hawa hawa aye hawa!!". Villages of Kargil felt little different from other Indian villages which I have seen or may be it was just me. It was quite picturesque but cold (metaphorically speaking). Our hotel was on the banks of a river (later came to know it was Suru river) and there was even a hydro electric plant. The lasting image that I have of Kargil is that of the "Top Gun" logo on one of the slopes of the hills guarding the cantt and of course the Ayatollah Khumeini poster!

Leh: To Heaven through Hell - 4

Whistles were distracting...and with the sheep jumping right in front of us, it was becoming increasingly difficult. We were crossing a stream (almost 100 meters wide) that had found its way across the NH on our way to Baralacha La. With two trucks waiting on the other side of the stream and one right behind us coaxing us to hurry up and cross it, we were in a spot quite literally.

Shepherds, with their flock of sheep were adding to the drama, whistling to guide the sheep to the other side of the stream. I let SS cross first while I was deciding which side of the stream to take. As SS was crossing, he lost his balance and almost had another fall only to be saved by his own alertness. Those previous falls had taught him a thing or two about balance! 

The stream was shallow on the valley side of the road and I decided to take it. A slip or even a miscalculation would have thrown me a few thousand feet down the slope. Taking a deep breath I splashed into it and when I had reached almost the end of the stream, a shiver gripped me. It was both the fear of rolling down into the valley and the sudden rush of ice cold water that had seeped into my water proof shoes! The pillions had already crossed on to the other side and were cheering us. 

After we made it to the other side, we had to make another stop. It was a pretty narrow turn, hardly 10 ft wide but we had to stop to pull out our socks, which soaked in ice cold water had started hurting our toes. Just as we stopped a caravan of army trucks rushed passed us, bellowing on us all the dirt gathered from the slopes. While waiting and trying to dry ourselves we looked back at what we had achieved. A gush of ice cold water which had cut through the slopes down on the road which had been laid in the last summer and this was at a height of almost 10K ft - We deserved a gallantry award for that!

The enigma of a road trip - you think you have overcome the toughest stretch, while there is always something better (or worse - depending on your perspective) waiting round the corner!

But before that, the night that cost us our lives - well almost! After crossing multiple streams on our way to Baralacha La, each one colder and thankfully less troubling than the last one, we reached the breathtakingly beautiful Sarchu. Himalayan Odyssey Tents was located on one side of the huge valley almost the width of 10 football fields guarded on both sides by huge hill ranges. The road cut right through the valley (technically speaking it was a roof top valley - at around 15K feet) and presented the most beautiful sight that we had longed for during our entire ride. But the enigmatic beauty of Sarchu had beneath its shrouds a deceptive trick that we would have never guessed, till we experienced it. It was still quite sunny and we parked our bulls and walked around the place while taking turns to pose for the photographs. It all felt wonderful, the cold breeze from both the sides soon became chillier and gustier as the sun went behind the ridges. We decided to gulp down some Maggi and coffee before calling it a day. This was a makeshift arrangement and the kitchen tent was the largest one. We quickly finished our dinner and went back to the warmth of our tents. As the night fell, the temperature dipped further and we were all hit by AMS. I had to get up since D was the worst hit and was really cold. I ran to the other tent and was completely numb by the time I reached there. PP and SS joined us in our tent and all of us took the medicines which were supposed to be taken as a precaution for AMS. Within a few hours D's condition worsened and we had to ask for help. The Himalayan Odyssey attendants suggested the only cure for AMS is to ride down and move ASAP since it might worsen if we stayed there. The closest medical aid was an army hospital some 50 kms from that place but even they would suggest the same remedy, so said the experienced ones. We hadn't unpacked any of our stuff from the respective bulls and so we decided that as soon as the day breaks we move. What a night it was - of anticipation and of fear - what if we fail to make it!

We loaded our stuff and D half unconscious, driven only by her will power, hopped on. It was the most anxious ride of my life and we didn't make a stop till we reached Pang. We had crossed the easiest of La's on this stretch, Lachalang La and I don't have any memories of that La at all!

Pang is more famously known for the last petrol pump before Leh (which was another 250+ kms). By the time we reached Pang we were back in our senses and the fear of the unknown made us refill our bulls' tanks. We took a small break near the makeshift tents and filled ourselves with Maggi. The temperature had started to dip again and since it was the last day of our ride we decided to move. Though I would rate Baralacha La as the toughest pass that we crossed but the more dangerous one was Tanglang La. At 17,500 ft it was a few thousand feet higher than Baralacha La but we would have never guessed what was in store for us there. As we thumped through the windy slopes (am not talking about the roads or the absence of it anymore) and ice corridors (a common feature across all passes), we were greeted by brown sand at the top of the pass. We decided to take a photograph there as well and parked the bull and ran towards the milestone (take my advice, never do that at any of the passes). And this was another blunder! As we reached the milestone we were not only breathless (the total distance that we had run was a mere 10 ft!) but were also tizzy. After the customary poses and owing to the tight schedule we quickly decided to roll down towards Upshi, our next planned break. However, Tanglang La still had the last trick up its sleeve. The road (or whatever you call the brown stretch) was all covered with mud and slush, which was at least half a feet deep. As soon as we touched it we lost all control on our bikes. The bulls were skidding and almost floating on the slush. So much so that twice we had drifted to the valley end (of course with a near heart failure) of the road. I didn't dare to look back at SS and was trying all my skills to save the bull from falling. Whether you put your legs or try braking, nothing was working on that abominable 100m stretch and it was thanks only to our stars  that we were able to cross that sea of slush and survived to die another day!

And that was the worst we had seen on our entire trip from Manali to Leh. As we came down Tanglang La the roads improved and we crossed many a beautiful stretch. There was even a table top road that was an out of the world experience. It was flanked by beautiful mountain ranges on both ends. While we were crossing it (that stretch was a straight as an arrow road - yes finally road, of around 20 kms) a heavy downpour wrapped us. The rain drops were so cold that I could feel my fingers going numb. In fact by the time we stopped (and SS had his last fall, at the end of the stretch) I could see my finger tips had turned blue. The last fall of SS was a bloody one, PP had a cut on her chin and blood was oozing out of it. We made a quick stop (had to as SS's bull was lying on the edge of the road) and dressed up PP's wound. Upshi was just a few kilometers from there and we made our final stop before Leh. Yet again we stuffed ourselves with Maggi and had a hearty laugh at all our minor accidents, of course praising each other's resurgence.

The road from Upshi to Leh seemed like it has been carved by a divine hand. There is a stream running parallel to the road and the narrow valley has huge mountains on both the sides. Each of the vertical slopes has natural figurines (some even look like human faces, laughing, shouting back at you). It was on this stretch that we were welcomed with "Juley" (Ladakhi magic word which we deciphered meant hello), by the kids on the road side. There were smaller villages on this stretch and it felt really heart warming to be riding back into civilization. We crossed a few Gompas (Stupas) and reached the Leh army cantonment and an entire army base with an air strip (one of the highest commercial air strips in the world). We had arrived at our destination - Leh!