May 14th, 2010
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This post is dedicated to two very special people:
To AK (I know you're listening :-)): You expressed the desire to LIVE through me, a desire that's reciprocated so that we may live two lives in one. And so I share my experiences with you in as much detail and with as much honesty and integrity as I possibly can. I sincerely love you. My life would be a lot less meaningful without you.
To Satyen Poojari: You're like a magician who openly shares all his secrets and nevertheless manages to enthrall those that watch you do your thing. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your infinite patience which saw me through my longest ever solo ride yet to Pune and one that I will forever remember fondly. Thank you, for patiently leading me through the chaos from Pune and bringing me home safe.
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I awaken to the smell of morning. My phone is buzzing incessantly, trying to remind me that if I need to get to Pune on time, now would be a good time to get my ass out of bed. 15 more minutes, I think to myself. 45 minutes later, I scramble out of bed wondering why 15 minutes end so quickly. The Universe can be a real bitch sometimes.
A quick shower and a coffee later, I review my plan in earnest. The objective of the ride is three-fold:
1) Ride the machine with a heavy tail bag strapped to it, to see how stable it is on corners, up the ghats and on high speed escapades on anonymous potholes. If things go flying in the upward direction, there's an adjustment to be made. If I go flying in any direction, there's an adjustment to be made.
2) Buy army boots for myself and a few others back in Mumbai so that we might tread across the snowy Leh terrain with ease, or the semblance of ease, or perhaps just make it across in one piece, or maybe just make it across. Expectations fall quickly when you're dealing with sub-zero temperatures don't they? :) :)
3) Ride with Satyen - with whom I am to ride the first leg of the Leh trip to Delhi - just so that we are familiar with each others riding styles. It will allow me to feel sorry for my riding skills and resolve to improve them, it will make Satyen feel sorry for my riding skills and resolve never to ride with me again (ok I'm not THAT bad either!).
And so I prep my bike for the journey; a full tank of gas (600 bucks), air-pressure (28 on the front, 33 on the rear), the tail bag strapped on tight. I gear up; balaclava, helmet, gloves, knee guards, shoes - its all there. T'is time to rumble.
And rumble I did. Along with every bone in my body. By the time I was ready to hit the highway and join the big league of the denizens of traffic, a rickshaw a few feet ahead of me banked right and came directly into my path. I braked hard with the noble intent of not riding into him. But my rear wheel had other plans. It lost traction on the gravel beneath and my bike spiraled out of control and into the rickshaw. A second later the machine was sliding away from me while my head slammed into the concrete like an out of control ping pong ball. And as I heard the road scrape against my helmet, the two of them engaged in a screeching duel that would last several seconds, all I could think of was - "So that's why you wear a helmet. It all makes sense now.". As I skid to a stop, I realize its not all over. There's the possibility of oncoming traffic running right over me. I brace for impact. It doesn't happen.
A by-stander rushes to my rescue. Helps me up and directs me to sit down on the pavement; gets my bike off the road; offers water and a cigarette. I politely refuse the cigarette but take him up on the water. A car stops and a lady of 50 something peers out asking me if I need help. Sometimes you just need concern to bring you right out of your physical misery. I thank her with all my heart and assure her I'm doing ok. 5 minutes later, I'm checking my bike for leaks and damages. Not much there. A few scratches masking the scratches from a previous fall, a few chips off the graphite body, a broken headlight casing - but the headlight works just fine - overall about 1000 bucks worth of damage and a perfectly functional vehicle. Its all good.
The yellow gunk on the headlight is where I hit the rickshaw. On the right (of the image) you can see a piece of the headlight casing jutting out.
I climb back on, thank the angel for helping me out, take a mental picture of his smiling face for posterity and ride on. For the first few legs, I take things slow. There's always the possibility that the bike sustained damages not visible to me. These would manifest themselves in some way - a sound, poor handling, something... As the kilometers fly by, the machine purrs, handles perfectly on tight turns. With my faith in it's health restored, I twist the throttle just a little bit more.
Several "I don't know where to go next" SMSes to Satyen later, I finally find my way to National Highway 4 (or NH4 if you prefer brevity). The road opens up, there's not a vehicle in sight for miles. I twist the throttle further as the magnanimous sky opens itself up to my visual field. The warm winds squeeze through the crevices in my helmet, reminding me its a harsh weather out there. But did I need reminding? The temperatures under my thick protective jacket are sky-rocketing and I'm sweating like an animal on heat - literally and figuratively. Things are bearable so long as I'm in motion; but a brief stop to adjust the bag, to SMS my location to dear ones - sends my body temperature spiraling upwards often making me weak in the knees as I struggle to hydrate myself before I pass out. But I'm still not stupid enough to ride without gear. That very gear saved my life not very long ago and I don't remember reading "You can't almost die twice in a day" anywhere. Instead I take a bottle of water and wet my t-shirt and my balaclava and slip my jacket on over it. It works extremely well.
Hours turn to kilometers. Hundreds of them. With every twist of the throttle, the engine purrs as it gladly commands the speedometer to hit a higher note. There comes a time in every long ride, where the machine seems to disappear from under you. Your fingers merge with the clutch, your fist replaces the throttle, the hum of the engine extends your heartbeat and your feet lend their support to your motion through the maze. As you see an empty road snaking its way through the terrain... a smile, a squeeze, a flick, a release, a twist and your soul reaches out to the Universe - "Talk to me. Not in words but in experiences." The Universe yields. "Experience you will."
I hit Pune in the smoldering heat, weaving my way through the city to find my way to E Squared, the rendezvous point with Rohit - an xbhpian who graciously agreed to accompany me to Juna bazaar in the middle of a work day. I'm told Rishab, also a fellow xbhpian, will be joining us too. A brief lunch later, I meet the both of them right outside E Squared. Satyen messages me saying that he is sneaking out of office too to join us. The more the merrier I say! We head on to a mechanic first just to give my bike a once-over to ensure everything's in place. It is. He tightens a few bolts and I'm good to go.
We get to Juna bazaar, buy shoes at prices that are a steal by any low standard you might care to set. 180 bucks for shoes and 200 bucks for army pants. We induldge in biking stories as we try on shoes and pants and white ankle high shoes that would put Jitendar to shame.
Satyen
Rohit
Rishabh
With our shopping done and the tail bags capacity pushed to its limits - I mean I've (unwillingly) seen some bulges in my time, but this was ridiculous! - we head on to Pune city for a much needed meal and to meet another fellow xbhpian, Vishwas. Vishwas was keen on meeting us since he will be riding to Leh with Satyen and me and there were unresolved issues to be dealt with.
By the time we get to Pune city, I start noticing what I thought was a minor problem. Due to a long ride, heat and of course pollutant gunk in my eyes, my eyes are drying up and my vision has blurred significantly. I realize I've been wearing lenses for way too long and they've been exposed to the elements way too much. I dispose the disposable lenses and switch over to double batteries. Everything is great for a while until we finish our meet and start riding again. My vision blurs again and as night falls, all I see is bursts of tail lights. Not good, I think to myself. I ride slowly as we ride through the maze of Pune traffic. I opine that Pune traffic is a lot more aggressive than Mumbai traffic. While lane discipline isn't exactly a priority in either, Pune riders enforce their right of way by stealing it from you with an aggression worthy of Hitler's great-grandmother.
As we hit NH4, we take a brief stop. I wash my eyes, my vision returns to normal and we move on. 20 minutes into the ride and my vision starts blurring again. I'm trying hard to keep up with Satyen's expert maneuvers which would be difficult even with 20/20 vision; almost impossible with a compromised line of sight. To make things worse, some stretches are pitch dark. I can tell tail lights, but I am painfully aware that some vehicles might be carrying cargo that's jutting out of the vehicle - and I have no way of seeing those. And so I do what common sense would have me do, I stop. I wash my eyes again and regain some of my vision, but I'm still not seeing clearly. A minute later, I see the familiar sight of Satyen's bike making its way towards me. As the lead, he constantly checks his rear-view to ensure I'm in sight. If not, he turns around and comes looking for me. A VERY comforting process. He asks why I stopped. I give him the specifics. I need to wash my eyes every 15 minutes to keep up my vision at 80% effectiveness and I still can't do tight corners and tricky maneuvers without slowing down significantly. He acknowledges the constraints and we commence the ride again - this time round Satyen adapting his riding speed and style to mine to a point where it was painful for me to see him ride like that. It was also a reflection on how badly compromized my own riding is at the time. I am now relying a 100% on him to get me home safe cause I can't see shit save for his tail light. He now has the additional responsibility of ensuring that at NO POINT does he put us in a situation where a quick maneuver is required, for I will certainly not be able to make it which could end up in disaster. And while, with my own riding skills, I wouldn't step up to such a responsibility; lucky for me he has both the skill and the presence of mind to take it up.
Everytime we stop and I wash my eyes, my vision gets a little better. By the time we hit JNPT, a fair bit of my vision had returned and I can manage speeds of 100kmph. It was then that Satyen decided to make the trip a little more exciting. There's an entry point into the Mumbai-Pune expressway close to where we were. Due to the late hour, Satyen decided that we could hit it without having cops tail us - and even if they did - I was advised not to stop. Lets see, illegal, fast-riding fun in the middle of the night? I was game! And so we did. With empty roads and massive lanes, speeds hit 130kmph pretty quickly and while the machine was begging for more, my compromised vision kept me from pushing it too far. 10 minutes of pure riding pleasure.
It took us 4+ hours and many many stops to make it home. But we made it home in one piece, thanks to Satyen and his expert lead...
