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.

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!

Leh: To Heaven through Hell - 3

"You guys from Bangalore?", asked the guy from the biker group, who had just joined us in Khoksar. We replied in affirmative but the very next question was in Kannada and the response to that gave away our ethnicity, or domicile ;). It was pretty windy there and we decided to thump to our next destination before it would get any colder. As we rode down the arid route, the landscape changed color. From bright white on the Rohtang Pass to dusty green to brown on the slopes. And the road too from the bright bitumen color (blame my color blindness for not knowing the exact color) to grey.

We had made bookings at Jispa for our night stay and were pretty confident of making it without breaking a sweat. But it was near Tandi my bull had a sudden stop. Sonu Rajput had reminded us before we started from Manali that Keylong was our last hope of getting a bike mechanic; after which started the areas debarred of any civilization, except for the nomadic tents which are pegged only during the riding season.

A few quick kicks (personal feeling - I never trust the autostart and as the future route would prove I would use it only if it would be a matter of life or death) which literally took my breath away - the air was already thin - and the bull roared. We hopped on and raced towards Keylong going past the beautifully carved roads through the Keylong valley. Tandi, by the way, is also the last petrol pump (petrol bunk if you are a Bangalorean!) before Leh. The huge bluntly cut hills on both sides with dusty roads and a makeshift bridge connecting the two ends of the ridges was the most thrilling thing I had seen in my life. This looked straight out of a Quentin Tarantino movie set. Battling goose bumps, we crossed a narrow stream and it was then my bull hushed back to silence again. CDD, PP, SSS and I decided that we should not test our luck any more and should go back to the mechanic shop we had crossed a few kilometers back (cynically smiling as we did). A retrace would cost us some hours but it was better than getting stranded, ill-equipped, in a cold desert. Consensus was reached in a matter of seconds and after dropping the pillions at a small hotel, which served hot maggi and kachoris, we rushed to the mechanic shop.

"It is just because of the lack of oxygen here, could be because of the fuel tank lid. If it repeats just remove the lid and close it back...also don't use auto start unless it is a matter of life and death!" (my man ;)), thus spake the learned one, for whom a ride like the one we were undertaking, was a daily affair. It pulled our confidence a few notches up and we thumped back to our first maggi break. This was a rejuvenating break for us, not only for the sumptuous bhajji and chai that we had there but also for the amazing view from our dining area. It was halfway between the valley that we had to take and the snow capped mountains that we had left behind. We could afford to kill sometime as we were pretty close to Jispa.

After crossing the Tarantinoian landscape once again, we reached Jispa where our accommodation was in the tents pegged on the banks of Bhaga river. This being the first day of our ride and owing to the thinning of air while we were gaining altitude, was quite tiring. We posed for photos near our tents and walked around to let the feeling sink in. Ah! The dream ride and we had undertaken it finally.

As the sun started going down the huge mountain behind our tents we calmed our nerves and thought of taking a quick nap in our tents. It was pretty windy and we could feel the gust on the side walls of the huge tent. As soon as we crashed on our bed, fatigue got the better of us and we were almost snoring in a deep slumber.

What woke us up with a start was the loud music and people shouting and dancing! It is only in India where you find people, who move with not only their entire paraphernalia but also carry their huge music systems to dance and make merry at 10,000 ft altitude!! The loud music knocked off the sleep out of our eyes and we were left with no other option but to be spectators to a wild family dance. It could have gone well into the night but thanks to the tent management guys, who after several failed attempts at stopping this brouhaha, threatened to close down the kitchen. So we had a relatively peaceful dinner which was not short of its share of dramatics - with one member of the dancing family joining us for dinner in vest and shorts, while another loud one entertaining the dinner party with his loud talk and a fake accent.

Phew! What a night! The next day started with its share of concerns - we had to cross Baralacha La to reach vomit Hilton, Sarchu. Why vomit Hilton - 'cos according to SS this was the place where all riders are hit by AMS and vomit at least once! As if the Baralcaha La videos (never watch the youtube videos if you are planning a ride) were not scary enough, this unknown devil was hovering on us as we set out for one of the most treacherous of the La's, we were going to conquer.

As we neared Baralacha La we could sense a dip in temperature and to add to that the roads gradually became more like loose gravels placed just to keep them falling off the slopes.

Leh: To Heaven through Hell - 2

Tourist Hotel (Rooms with Independent Balcony), Manali
Time: 7 am, 28th June

"I think if we tie this around the bag, it would save us from rain", D spoke while handing me the plastic cover we had bought at Manali's Mall Road, last evening.

"Yes thanks", I responded.

It was already 7 o'clock and I was little anxious about our late start for the Manali-Leh road trip. From the locals we had heard that the road is generally always jammed because of the narrow road leading to Rohtang Pass. I was putting in all my might, hurriedly trying to tie our back-packs into the luggage carrier stand attached to the Royal Enfield that we had hired. SS and PP were busy tying their stuff on the other bull. Though we had started this process, as early as 6 am in the morning, it was already an hour and we were still struggling with it. Blame it on the extra clothes that I had packed in my back-pack because of which it was little out of shape and refusing to get into the luggage carrier. After quite a few rounds of heave-ho's we felt satisfied with our effort and decided to start on the exciting journey to Ladakh - this was a ride spread over three days, with stops at Jispa and Sarchu.

The bulls boomed through the picturesque Manali road towards Rohtang Pass. The sky was bluish, the greenery around was superlative with morning dew shining like beautifully cut diamonds off the blades of grass and leaves of the tall trees. Add the thump to the in-sync heart beat and what you have is every rider's dream. As we climbed up the twirling roads towards the pass, we could see the long queue of four-wheelers waiting to get on the other side. Thanks to our lean and mean ride, we overtook this queue of vehicles (this queue was at least 10-15 kms long) and stopped at a check-post to pay decongestion fees (what an irony this was!). We had to wait for another hour at a treacherous and narrow road through the valley to get on the top of Rohtang Pass. Thick snow slopes and lanes through snow walls there, made us feel like we were riding on clouds. However a quick look on the terrible road brought us back to terra firma.  The snow was whiter than any white I had seen in my life!

As we were thumping down the pass, SS had his first fall. With the steep valley on the left and whiter-than-white snow walls on the other side, a truck driver (true to his nature), took an aggressive swipe near us and SS lost his balance. The road was slippery owing to the melting snow and it was tough to control the bull downhill. SS and PP had minor injuries (or at least that is what they conveyed to anxious D's queries) but the way they had taken the fall was pretty encouraging. Within minutes of this unscheduled break we were on our way towards the real test of our riding skills. Downhill the road was non-existent, only pebbles and gravels lining and sloping hairpin bends.

On the other side of Rohtang Pass was Khoksar, a dry arid landscape which looked more like a desert but for the temperature.  We took a much needed break and filled ourselves with Maggi first and Rajma-Roti later. You should keep yourself stuffed at these altitudes as you tend to loose appetite and become vulnerable to AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness).

Leh: To Heaven through Hell - 1

As I gazed down the Himalayas aboard 6E448, I could sense a proud gush of air through my lungs. Having conquered, on wheels, the passes and slopes, which were now offering such a majestic sight from top, it was but natural! Isn't destination the sole reason for a journey? 

And does it make any sense to undertake an arduous and strenuous journey when destination is equally beautiful. 484 kms on a two wheeler with a pillion - sounds so sadistic, especially when the pillion is one's wife! There are other ways to get a sore ass, body ache and coat of dirt and dust (and to get that sadistic pleasure by troubling your wife :P) How beautiful can be a stretch of 30-40 kms, with the same view of mountains (some snow capped ones adding to your misery) staring back at you for multiple such stretches. It is like watching a bio-scope and becomes so monotonous at times. With wavy roads (if you can call the assorted gravels and boulders laid randomly on mountain edges, to plot your fall, that!) giving you the bumpiest rides and adding to your already nauseated brain. And it is like icing on the cake when the hotels and tents you stay have some horrendously selfish guests who play loud music and dance, not giving a damn about how tired you are after your ride across mountains and valleys. 

These would be exact words of a cynic who gives two hoots to your mantra of life - Riding is meditation, it is the only time when you are one with the road you are riding on. To those cynics and the sour grapes cases and also to the "someday" people, just pack your bags, shut your trap and get on the road. With 500cc engine and at least 42Nm torque between your legs, the dirt and wind across your face and the mountain ranges with absolutely stunning visuals, you get what a yogi yearns for - Nirvana.

"The plan" was initiated by D and we had all agreed, that if it is Leh, it has to be a bull ride. Thanks to SS, who had done quite a research on the topic and modes of commute, we got enough information to materialize "the at least once in a lifetime ride". After my two previous failed attempts, I was little cynical myself whether I will ever be able to ride to Ladakh. But it was the super joshiley group of D, PP and SS who rubbed off their enthusiasm on me. With fancy names - Agents CDD, PP, SSS and BK,  "the plan" started taking form and shape in March with a mail chain which had all information about itinerary, ticket booking, hotels/tents and also return via Srinagar!! I was always fascinated by Kashmir. When I was in college, someone had mentioned that the highest motor-able road in the world is in India. My nerdinesshad made me read about that then and that is how my craving for a ride on the Manali-Leh stretch started. Riding, like whiskey, is an acquired taste and as Mr Khosla (from the movie Khosla ka Ghosla) had said - "In cheezon ka maza dheere dheere lena chahiye, wo kahte hain na jee hold your drink". To relish this taste and to live our dream, we started from Bangalore on 26th June. After reaching Manali the following morning (that bus ride was one vomit-inducing one), we checked in at Tourist Hotel (Rooms with independent Balcony!). I was really eager to have a look at our ride and after breakfast, SS and I started for "Hardev Motors" - these were the guys who had agreed to rent their bulls to us for the treacherous terrain of Manali-Leh highway, at a price of course. We met the owner, Sonu Rajput (which I was least interested in) and enquired about the bulls (about which I was super charged).  We had to wait for sometime there as the bulls had gone for a wash. After finishing the paper work (paying the pending amount, handing over our original IDs and collecting the bullet's papers), I was pretty restless and gulped down the coffee, offered to us by the very helpful owner, to curb my eagerness. It was during the discussion about the road condition that I heard the thump and rushed out to see what can be called pristine beauty - It was the new classic 500, with customized fuel tank (22 lts capacity, as Sonu Rajput confirmed), customized carburetor and smaller exhaust. We took it for a spin on the steep street near the shop and the bull topped its looks with superlative performance. The mechanic there offered us some tips about riding on the hilly terrain and handed over the tool box (myriad spares - tubes, spark plug, headlight bulb, even a pump). We stuffed it in the luggage carrier that was affixed to the rear and set off for our hotel, feeling like proud owners of the chrome and gray bull (at least for a week).

Don't Worry, be Hampi

I was trying hard, rather my best but with my limited knowledge of south Indian languages, it was tough to decipher which part of south India did they belong to...

This was a much needed break that D and I had planned and Hampi was a unanimous choice. Only contentious decision was the place to stay. While D was insisting that we stay at a star rated place, I on M's suggestion, wanted to stay at Shanthi Guest House on the so called Hippie Island. It was quite a pleasant surprise for us after we landed up here. After disembarking from the Hampi express at Hospet we bargained a lot with a few auto rickshaws and finally got one to Hampi. We got down at "Boat Point" (which incidentally is also the Hampi Auto Stand) and crossed the Tungabhadra river - which was hardly a 50m stretch -  on a motor boat to reach Virupapura Gaddi, better known among tourists as Hippie Island. As we walked towards the guest house the place reminded me of other firang-infested Indian cities, Goa and Pondicherry. There were firangs all around us and the narrow lane which we had to take to reach the guest house had walls with graffiti, cafes, souvenir shops and even money exchange joints on one side, while serene and beautiful paddy fields on the other. Shanthi guest house was much better than we had imagined. With paddy fields right across our small cottage, a hammock on its porch and basic furniture it was a perfect setting for a lazy weekend.

Boat Point, Hampi

Coming back to the alien south Indian language that i was trying to decipher. The source of that was a group of guys who had come to stay at the cottage next to ours. These guys came in after a day of our stay and were quite a vociferous group. While the night prior to the arrival of this  group was calm and only troubled by crickets and croaking frogs, the next night had more noisy intrusions by this group.

Love, music and drugs have a universal language. With these guys playing Pink Floyd it was not tough to guess what was their preference in Hampi. While D was quite confident that it was Malayalam, I thought it was Telugu as I was sure I had heard an "aypendi" or a similar sounding syllable.

Hampi is quite an experience and the best thing about the place is there is hardly anyone around. And since it is firang-infested it has just the right dose of commercialization. The guest house itself is not out of the world but a few unique amenities here are pretty decent. The eatery with low rise dining slabs and mattress on its sides is the first thing that catches your eye. It is next to the paddy fields again with unique bell shaped lamp shades and pretty neat. The only thing that troubles you there are flies. Being next to a field has its side effect, in flies and mosquitoes but brighter side is the serene view and low hum of  crickets and other insects that makes nights here pretty musical. (By the way did you know that plural of cheese is cheeses, this i overheard - and cross-verified - from the firang group who were chatting at Shanthi Guest House restaurant, next to our dining slab).

The Hampi ruins are amazingly beautiful and certainly takes you to a different world. As Rodney Walker, the pensioner from South Africa, who we met here told us - Hampi is a feeling that needs sinking in and one can easily spend months here finding your own personal spots. A few must sees here are Vithhala Temple (this has the stone chariot which kind of defines Hampi ruins), Achyutaraya Temple and the Pushkarani, both at Krishna Bazar and Ganika Vidhi. The walk from Ganika Vidhi to Vithala Temple is quite a trek and sholayesque. The hills and the route between precaciously placed rocks are strikingly awesome. You can not help but think of the times just six centuries ago. The pushkarani, which was a water body surrounded by stairs was probably equivalent to the modern day malls where people spent their evenings. The scale of the Pushkarni and the Ganika Vidhi as well as the Krishna Bazar complex talks volumes about the lost civilization. Our auto rickshaw driver-cum-guide informed us that Krishna Bazar was the market where gold and other precious ornaments were sold.

The huge expanse of Hampi amazes me and it is equally amazing how such a fledgling civilization ended with so much of the past still in pristine state. I definitely need to look up what the experts say about the extinction of civilization at Hampi.

PS: While returning from our trek of Vithala Temple we lost our way in the hills. We however luckily met a few people and followed them to reach Virupaksha Temple. From there we walked to the boat point again to try our luck to cross the river on boat. And lucky we were, for in that morbid darkness there were a few people who asked whether we need a coracle ride. It was dark like hell and hardly anything was visible. A few lights on the other side of the river was our only beacon. It was a wonderful coracle ride and we survived it to tell a tale or may be to die another day.

कृष्णागिरी बना पांडिचेरी

हमारा पहला रोड ट्रिप - अगर आप हमें बचपन से जानते हैं (नहीं भी जानते हों, तो आपने कुछ ज्यादा मिस नहीं किया है), तो ये बात तो तय है की आप इस बात पर हसेंगे - बिकाश, बुलबुल पर, पांडिचेरी - असंभव, अनहोनी!!!

लेकिन हाँ एक शनिवार की सुनहरी दोपहरी (जी हाँ हमारे क्रेडिट कार्ड के किस्सों के बाद हमने योजनाबद्ध सफ़र कम कर दिया है), हम अपने मित्रों के साथ निकल पड़े। सच पूछिए तो हमने पांडिचेरी का प्लान ही नहीं बनाया था। प्लान यूँ था की कृष्णागिरी (जिनको दूरी ज्ञात नहीं उनके लिए - कृष्णागिरी और पांडिचेरी के बीच का फासला प्रारंभिक योजना से करीब तीन गुना है) मे कॉफ़ी पीयेंगे और शाम तक लौट आएंगे। अब कुछ "मतवाले" नौजवान (हमारी संख्या थी ४ लोग गाडी मे और मैं अपनी बुलबुल पर सवार) जब ऐसी प्लानिंग करें और मौसम भी मतवाला हो जाये, तो ऐसे तारतम्य को कभी नकारना नहीं चाहिए। और हमने भी वही किया - राह चलते हमारे मित्र ने अपना लम्बा हाथ बाहर निकाला (अगर आपने भारतीय राजमार्ग पर सफ़र किया है तो हाथ दिखाने का मतलब - धीमे जाएँ, मैं मुड़ रहा हूँ, तू तेरा देख, तेरी ^&$% की - जैसा कुछ भी हो सकता है)। लेकिन क्यूंकि मित्रों की शालीनता उस वक्त बरक़रार थी, उसके कहने का मतलब था आगे रुको (जी हाँ, एक मुद्रा और कई अर्थ - भारतीय हैं, हाथ दिखाने के और भी मतलब निकाल सकते हैं )।

हम कृष्णागिरी के बहुत पास थे और उस वक्त रुकने का कोई मतलब नहीं बनता था। लेकिन ४ पहिये अगर २ पहिये को रुकने कहे तो रुक जाने में भलाई है। कच्ची सड़क पर उतरते ही पता चला की ४ पहियों की सवारी ने पांडिचेरी जाने का मन बना लिया है। २ प्रतिक्रियां हो सकती थी - या तो हम बिलकुल मना कर देते या ख़ुशी से फूलते हुए निकल पड़ते। पर यहाँ पर हम सकते में आ गए और हमारे मुँह से निकला - "पागल हो क्या"। ऐसे सवाल जिनके जवाब आपको पता हों, या जिनके जवाब न हों, उन्हें अंग्रेजी मे rhetoric कहते हैं, हमारा सवाल ऐसा ही कुछ था। क्यूंकि उस स्थल पर हम छहों (बुलबुल मे भी दिल है) को पता था की उसका जवाब क्या है। बस अब निर्णय ये लेना था की हम हमारी बुलबुल पर (आधे खुले हेलमेट के साथ, सर्विसिंग को तरसती बुलबुल लेकर) जायें या नहीं। और चूँकि प्रारंभिक योजना कॉफ़ी पीने की थी, तो वही करते हुए हम सब तैयार हो गए (तैयार तो थे ही सब लेकिन बस दिल को बहलाना था) ।

अब जब हम कृष्णागिरी के पास बायें लेते हुए चेन्नई राजमार्ग पर आये तो सड़क देख कर आँखें चमक गयी। लेकिन ये हमारा रास्ता नहीं था (पहले सफ़र कर चुके होने के कुछ फायदे होते हैं - एक तो ये की आप पथ भ्रष्ट नहीं होते), हमें राज्यमार्ग (स्टेट हाई वे) लेना था। और मुड़ते ही हम समझ गए की भारतीय पथ निर्माण संघ (आप उसको कई और नाम से बुला सकते हैं) के अधिकारी इतनी धनाड्य क्यूँ और कैसे होते हैं। अगले १०० किमी तक हमने उन अधिकारीयों के परिवार के प्रियजनों को याद किया (निस्संदेह चुनिन्दा दुर्वचनो के साथ) । इस ट्रिप को अगर देखें तो हमारी पहली १०० और आखिरी के करीब १०० किमी की यात्रा काफ़ी आरामदेह थी (धनवानों को भी थोडा काम करना होता है) । सड़क काफ़ी सुडौल, सुन्दर, सुसज्जित थी - अब इससे ज्यादा में राजमार्ग की बड़ाई नहीं कर सकता, लेकिन ये बीच के करीब ६०-७० किमी का वर्णन शब्दों में नहीं कर सकते - उस ६०-७० किमी के सफ़र ने हमारी जान नहीं ली, बाकी सब ले लिया।

खैर सारे खतरों को दरकिनार करते हुए, छोटे-छोटे विराम लेते हुए हम पांडिचेरी पहुँच ही गए। और फिर जैसा की तय हुआ था (रस्ते भर में एक अच्छा प्लान जो हमने किया था वो ये था), हम Ginger Hotel में रुके। उस होटल की इतिहास में ऐसा पहली बार हुआ होगा की ६ लोंगो (बुलबुल का तब भी दिल था) ने चेक इन किया हो, और एक भी सामान नहीं। हमारी योजनायें ऐसी ही होती हैं - सामान लेकर क्यूँ लोड बढ़ाना था - और वैसे भी हम तो कृष्णागिरी के लिए निकले थे। शुक्र है की होटल वालों को इस बात से कोई परेशानी नहीं थी और हमने एक बहुत सुकून भरी रात वहां गुजारी । वापसी का सफ़र तो बस यूँ कट गया की उसके लिए कोई अलग ब्लॉग लिखना भी न पड़े ( हाँ पथ निर्माण अधिकारीयों के प्रियजनों के लिए चुनिन्दा दुर्वचन कुछ और चुनिन्दा भले ही हो गए - शायद उसके लिए ब्लॉग की ज़रुरत पड़े- लेकिन वो फिर कभी) और अब sun tan और रस्ते की परेशानियाँ यहाँ लिखना उचित नहीं होगा, ख़ास कर तब जब आप अपने पहले रोड ट्रिप से इतना लगाव रखते हों ।

Bike Ride to Ooty - 1

Slowly pulling myself up from the bed cursing "the plan", I squinted at the watch. It was 3am and Friday - if you can call that early as day - and it was a long weekend...manna for the working class!! Not for us, we had planned for a bike ride to Ooty and back in three days. It had rained the previous night, which had mellowed down the mood a wee bit but a few text exchanges and very soon we were pretty upbeat about the ride. One text even mentioned - come rain or sunshine we are going to make it, which sounded just short of the Obama "we can" propaganda.

The interesting thing about our group was all of us knew at the max two people. A group of six is not a large group but not knowing each other can be little intimidating, especially if you are taking a ride of around 300 kms. I guess it was the magic of the SMSes doing the rounds in the group and a few ego-massaging mails that we were all geared up by around 4 in the morning. The group gathered strength and form, as we made a stop for fuel refill and then at "Udupi Garden", BTM, which is known more as a rendezvous point than for its food. By the time we reached NICE Road (the road connecting Bangalore-Mysore, which is in fact nice) toll gate it had started raining. The design of NICE road is a conspiracy, trust me, it just eggs you to move on as there are very little (in fact none) shelters to save you against the elements. And so we moved on, drenched to the soul, or sole, equally applicable.

The wheels intro - Kawasaki Ninja, Yamaha R15, Electra 350, Honda Unicorn and Pulsar - not arranged necessarily according to power but nevertheless an assorted group. It was fun as the bikes used to race ahead, overtaking the lesser mortals and being further embarrassed by the nagging thump - as if struck by lightning and then put to rest by a sledge hammer.We stuffed ourselves with a sumptuous South Indian breakfast at Kamath restaurant on Mysore Road, drying ourselves at the same time. The Rain God, meanwhile, took a break and completely conned us to move ahead with our plan and showed His true colors as we were crossing the McDonald's drive-thru joint. We had to make an unscheduled stop to restore our nerves and warm our senses at McD, to be fooled by rain again. As the cloud gave way to a bright sunshine, we were enthused to move on. The stretch to Mysore from that point was pretty normal, interspersed with a few villages and the usual Indian jaywalkers. The racers energized by the warm sun tested their money's worth on this stretch and everyone touched the respective wheel's max speeds. We were at Mysore bypass at around noon and could see our destination marked in almost all the hoardings - signs, no!!! Divine con-man working overtime and we needed just that.

After talking to few people on the road and confirming the route, we moved ahead towards Bandipur (the national forest reserve). Though there was a sea of dark cloud on the horizon, it didn't stop us from stopping for a few snaps. As we posed for the snaps, the sun did the same, hiding behind the cloud, waving and winking "you will need all the luck to reach there Dudes!!". Unperturbed by THE posture, we moved ahead and were soon draped in a thunderstorm. Any physics student, worth his salt, would not stand under a tree in a thunderstorm but once you are drenched (not to the sole/soul yet) who cares for a darn lesson. However, one lightening and a crackling thunder and we sped like fools to reach a bus shade (mind you it was supposed to be a bus-stop). The good thing about Bangalore (or we were in TN already!!) rains is they don't last very long. Soon we were on our way crossing the very beautiful Bandipur National Forest, only to realize at the check-post that we had our first casualty. It was a bag which our friend on R15 had left at the bus stop and though we (R15 and electra350) went back to check, we were not shocked at not getting the bag or for that matter any soul at that bus stop (East or West, India is the best!!). Cursing our luck we just returned back with a second round of heavy shower as our company.

The serene Bandipur (and Mudumalai stretch on TN side) is the most beautiful ride in this part of the world. And we were lucky to have the rain and sun sprinkled in equal measure on that stretch. At a pace which can be best termed as leisurely, we crossed the Mudumalai forest and within a few kilometers we were at a place called Masinagudi. There in front of us was the majestic sight of a green mountain, capped by white cloud approaching us at snail's pace, or so it seemed. Before we could gasp, the rain gave us a purifying shower and welcomed us to the 36 hairpin bends which was our route to Ooty. As we started (marked by a 1/36 on the first bend), we realized that the bends are not only pretty sharp but also steep (road banking - more physics lessons revised!!). Praying that fractions be simplified (4/36 = 1/9, isn't it primary maths) we could feel the gradual dip in the temperature. And as we crossed a few more bends the visuals became heavenly - we made our way through the clouds, saw the mist rising off the road, could feel the rain drops floating in air!!! By the time we crossed all the 36 hairpin bends (the number is of course important here), our fingers and toes had gone numb. You see the rain was a constant companion in our errand and be it rising off the road or floating in the air - the drops were freezing (naah, f*****) cold!!! In fact even holding hot coffee in our palms didn't immediately help us regain our senses.

Lakeside View hotel was our destination in Ooty and it was marked all over the place (probably the divine con-man was on our side still). We reached the place and booked two cottages and also asked for two heaters - we badly needed them to dry our clothes, soaked in rain water!! After a quick round of snacks (we had skipped lunch thanks to rain) some of us dropped dead on the comfortable beds, while a few updated ourselves with IPL scores and planned for the night.