Section 2: The Journey > Chapter 11: Dunes of Doom

May 31, 2010

And so the miles fly by as an angry sun turns its wrath onto us. We've bid adieu to NH-76 at Chittorgarh and made our acquaintance with NH-79 as we forge forward.

Facebook update: @gangrar: 140km today, 922km total
31 May at 16:01 via Text message

Veeral Joshi
carry on.... :)
31 May at 16:02

Satnam Singh Vohra
awesum bro-- but rem njoi the ride iand not just the destination
31 May at 16:19 

The 79 competes with the 76 in offering up a platter of visual treats.

It's almost 9pm and we have yet to reach Ajmer. The sun has since abandoned us, choosing instead to focus on other longitudes as dark swoops in to present its company. The 79 will abandon us too as we reacquaint ourselves with the tarmac of the 8 once more.

Facebook update: Paneer parathas outside Ajmer. 341km dne so far. Slow boring travelling today.

31 May at 20:50 via Text message

Siddhesh Kulkarni
tasty parathas... yummy!!! hv 1 xtra on my behalf... when r u gonna rch delhi...?
31 May at 21:54

Dinesh Samtani
wow.....parathas.....awesome!!
31 May at 23:05

Facebook update: 200km more to get to Jaipur.
31 May at 17:13 via Text message

Gopinath Venugopal
‎140??? Why?
31 May at 17:28

Dinesh Samtani
cool!!!!!
31 May at 17:41

Facebook update: Jjjjjaipur! 415km today. 1197km total.

31 May at 22:19 via Text message
Satnam Singh Vohra and Satyen Makhija like this.

Dinesh Samtani
Awesome....Good going man!!!!
31 May at 23:06

The above update will have to find its way through a pitch dark ether towards a lone server dedicated to Facebook. It will hit its mark. Its 11pm and we are trying to connect with Indradeep Singh. Indradeep aka Inder has shuttled his steed from Pune to Agra via rails from where he would ride to Delhi and beyond. Our desire, or as some would say, compulsion was to catch up with him somewhere along the way if it were possible. The possibility dissolves on account of his phone being unavailable.

While we break, Spiderweb convinces us to try kulfi from a road side stall. I'm all set to regret my decision to go along for I'm sure I'll hate it. My pre-conceived notions bite dust as I take a second helping. We break longer than we should; for the gentleman manning the stall is fabulously drunk and in a mood for some friendly banter. I study him. Late 50s perhaps with a face that exudes an uncanny innocence - a boy trapped in an aging body. He displays pride in the notion that Jaipur denizens are one of the friendliest, most helpful and most honest denizens on the planet. I suspect his notion is not unjustified. He offers us ice for our warm bottles of water. "No charge", he says. I thank him as he beams with pride. He inquires about our journey, our health and expresses concern over our safety. I assure him we are safe and will continue being safe, if not for anything else, to keep our promise to him.

As we ride off into the darkness, he steps in front of my bike at the risk of being run over, waves both his hands and says "Bye bye, bye bye".  "Goodbye dear friend; and thank you for being you." is all I can think. Wave my hand hastily as I try to navigate the steed away from his body is all I can do.

And while the mind captures his face, his mannerisms, his humanity, the camera manages a solitary unassuming click. I regret little, but I regret not capturing him on film to share with you his gentleness, his kindness. But I do share with you his spirit and thoughts.

Sleep is catching up with us again. We've slept a fair bit the night prior, but riding from Mumbai to Rajasthan isn't a practice; the physicality of the effort demeans every bone in your body - impressing on it that there is a limitation to the limitless. But it gets worse - which should come as no surprise to all. For the highway becomes our worst nightmare as potholes loosen our grip on the throttle; heavy cross winds toy with our metal, pushing and pressing us against the edges of the tarmac, threatening to throw us off or to throw us onto a goods-laden motor monster; several diversions that lead into a one lane pile of gravel make us reconsider calling our movement progress. For we seem to be running into harsher conditions. Our vision is now completely impaired. The high pitch of darkness is deafening, the glare of high-beams from oncoming traffic blinding and bursts of sand and grime from the surrounding desert carried forth by the cross-winds are mortifying for they threaten to bully you and bury you where you ride. And ride we must for several hours surrounded by the hostile.

And it is under these conditions that the mighty Karizma begins to falter. For its headlights dim down, its master unable to decipher road from rock. We break, considering possibilities. Signs of civilization are bleak a competent mechanic is a distant dream.


Motorbreath whispers, "Pulsar rocks".

June 1, 2010

Facebook update: Spiders headlight dim (bettery issue). Me leading the night ride. Wish I had HDI!
01 June at 00:12 via Text message

Sagar Raikar
HID?
01 June at 20:00

Sagar Raikar
you might have borrowed from satyen
01 June at 20:01


Facebook update: ... I mean "battery" n I mean HID (prev stat) :-)
01 June at 00:14 via Text message



Spiderweb commands me to ride ahead; as he visually navigates his steed under the illumination of the R-15s lamps. I firmly believe the R-15s lamps leave much to be desired for the illumination is less than ordinary. But as traffic picks up, he finds enough illumination from the headlamps of the larger vehicles and takes lead again. I fall back and begin to tail Motorbreath once more. Occasionally, as the traffic thins, Spiderweb will fall back allowing us to forge ahead and shed light on his distinctly dark path. Intermittently, the Karizma, in a bid to not let its master down, pushes for more illumination - the headlights brighten for a while only to dim down in time. It is apparent that the beast has been mis-wired in the midst of Udaipur.

Meanwhile the jabs between Spiderweb and Motorbreath have dwindled down for speed was not an option in the path we took. But the jabs will resurface as we get closer to Delhi, causing Motorbreath to consider riding alone to Delhi - a consideration that's shot down by Spiderweb on the pretext that regardless of how we function internally, we ride as a group and get to wherever we get to as a group. From where I stand, Motorbreath is under immense pressure - one that will impact the group dynamics significantly in the days to come. I will turn your attention to the significance of this impact as we travel further. For now, Spiderweb and Motorbreath have slipped into a friendly banter - like siblings and as the saying goes - Aall is well.

We break once more for thirst quenchers and some chair napping. I get this click.

As we ride out once more, Spiderweb is concerned. For we are to be accomodated in an abode that belongs to a relative of Spiderweb and he has indicated to them that we will arrive in Delhi by 2am. That target seems unachievable now simply because we are way past the mark. We did not anticipate the treachery of NH-8.

Facebook update: Exhilirating (not) ride thru sand clouds, pitch dark roads, potholes, n more.
01 June at 02:29 via Text message

Sagar Raikar
keep it up people.........all the best
01 June at 02:43

Dinesh Samtani
Go Go Go..

Spiderweb, understandably, does not want to arrive at their doorstep at 4am which we probably will. He suggests we kill time at a dhaba, get some rest and proceed a few hours later. And that is exactly what we proceed to do. We eat like hungry truck drivers, rest on khatias and laugh our heads off watching bollywood movies from the yesteryears with ludicrous plots and an insanely funny art that was being passed off as acting by scheming denizens who called themselves actors. Yes, favourably, the dhaba has installed a mini-tv which is rocking to the bizarre beats of Bollywood.

The particular skit we were blessed with involved a police officer played by a very tired looking Shatrughan Sinha whose wife is kidnapped by the crime overlord. The officer's brother, played by Sanjay Dutt, looks horny for the most part and seems VERY keen on saving his bhabhi from the evil clutches of an equally horny villain while Shatrughan Sinha sports a constant "Ya whatever, they'll send her back when they get bored with her" look. On seeing Sanjay Dutt's desperation to save the bhabhi aka his wife, Shatrughan Sinha has the "Something is fishy. I must see this for myself" look on his face and so, even though he has little or no interest in protecting the hag called his wife (I don't recall who played the role), he must go and try and pretend to be a man and save her before his brother charms his way into her ... well. Obviously we had our share of bhabhi jokes to share.

And while we are at it, Spiderweb decides that adding a dump to the mix won't be such a bad idea after all. On determining the absence of a bathroom, or the presence of a big one called Mother Earth, off he goes into the darkness of the fields beyond to leave his mark and give them bacteria some food for thought. On his return, Motorbreath follows suit. I contribute a mere piddle.

Facebook update: Motor n spider take a late night dump behind a dhaba under the moonlight! Romantic!

01 June at 03:26 via Text message
Samardeep Singh, Swapnil Jadhav and Rohit Chourasia like this.

Rohit Chourasia
jealous!!! Hmmm
01 June at 03:30

Alankar Misra
No no I bless ur union with holy water (ie pee!!!) :-) family forum people!!!!
01 June at 03:31

Deepak Vadhani
so where exactly are you now..........Dilli kitni door hai????
And these two are at it since god knows when.........lol
01 June at 06:48

Rachit K
haha..!!
01 June at 11:54

Atul Aherwar
rofl@@@
01 June at 13:39

Insanity at its best. Bidi's for Motorbreath for lack of cigarettes. More ticks, a few clicks.

It is time to leave. We did not want to be too early, but we do not want to be too late either for, Spiderweb explains, if we delay our entry into Delhi, goods trucks will begin their entry into the capital city as the sun breaks out and we will encounter heavy traffic. We ferry our bikes down a slope of sand - Motorbreath and me that is. Spiderweb isn't following suit, for the mighty Karizma has nose dived into silence. It won't start...again.

The drill of button starts, kick starts and push starts begins again but the engine won't roar. We all take turns with the kick to no avail. We are uncomfortable miles away from a mechanic - for now we don't adjectify it competence for just about anyone will do. But when the steed won't speed, we give up. Well, almost. For as he hops off his steed, Spiderweb notices a wire hanging lose. He plugs it back into a socket nearby, hits the button start and the steed comes alive. I have my back turned to him and hear only the roar of the engine. I'm ecstatic as are the rest. Time to move along.

The remainder of the road offers no adventures - just pain - immense physical pain. My hands hurt, my back hurts, my bum gave up hurting several bumps ago for it can hurt no more. I'm not alone. As the sun comes up, we are close to our destination; we break for a few more clicks.

Not far down that road, we see a toll booth and a board that welcomes us to Delhi. We made it. We rode from India's commercial capital to India's capital, we did it in a group of three, with wheels that count to two, up to a total of six. And Spiderweb is proven right. For as soon as we enter Delhi, we get swamped with traffic.

The search begins for the aunt who was kind enough to agree to let us into her home. We ask for directions several times, notice the superiority of Delhi roads when compared with our home city until finally we are in the vicinity of Vasant Vihar. But as we approach the said block, Spiderweb stops dead in his tracks. "This is not the Vasant Vihar we are looking for", he says. For Spiderweb has spent a significant share of his childhood growing up in Vasant Vihar and this is not the one we seek. So off we go looking for the elusive second Vasant Vihar. But nobody knows its whereabouts. They only know just the one. Several trying minutes of riding around in circles and confusing locals with our queries about this bastard cousin of Vasant Vihar, Spiderweb makes the call to his aunt only to realize that the place he grew up in was Vasant Kunj. Fatigue does strange things with your mind. We are ready to strangle him, but the distance between thought and action is much to great for our weary minds to traverse. Besides, as the evil of self-preservation points out, we still need him. Within 15 counts of the minute, we ride into iron gates, bank left and stop.

We're home.

As we strip off sweat soaked articles of clothing, we get the full five star treatment. Fruits, tea, lemonade, chicken curry and rice and had we chosen, beer. We choose slumber while the weary Karizma and the Pulsar are serviced. I choose not to let the unknowns fiddle with the R-15 for I prefer an authorized service center - one I cannot find. I will clean and lube the chain on my own. Servicing will have to wait. Photography though, is another matter as Motorbreath and me take turns shooting.

My phone is buzzing. It's Aman. I will introduce him in the pages to follow. For now suffice is to say that he must ride with us. He decides to come over and talk with us over the routes we must take so we have some semblance of a plan. As he enters our doors, he finds six unmoving feet and the ambient noise of human snore. Luckily I awaken. We have a quick discussion on the when and the where and decide that it would be wise to leave as early as 1am to beat traffic and heat. He exits as I enter dream state.

That evening as I bathe, I look myself in the mirror. I find a body I do not recognize. Fatigued to the core, I've aged years in days. The questions resume as shades of a mid-life crisis envelope my carcass. "Am I too old for this? They said it would be difficult. I won't be able to keep up with them 20 somethings. What was I thinking? Mebbe I am too old for this. No, I'm certain I'm too old for this."

As it turns out, I was wrong... horribly wrong.

 June 2, 2010

1:00 AM

Spiderweb: Motor....motor...
Motorbreath: Hmmmmm.....
Spiderweb: Uth ja... (wake up)
Motorbreath: Hmmmmm.....

Section 2: The Journey > Chapter 10: The many moods of NH-76

May 31

NH-76 sickens me. For it pampers me and my steed. It produces no hurdles except for the occassional human who's dangerous road antics will lead to headlines that mispronounce stupidity as accident. In my tryst to capture the reality of a dream, I lose sight of the two, visible as mere dots on the horizon. As the camera is wrapped in polythene and fingers slip into tubes of leather, those that rode with me have all but disappeared. I must catch up. Within minutes, my steed will break its former record of 134kmph, climbing to 140kmph on the speedometer; the tarmac, the pirellis and the steed, in that order, engaged in an orgy of cosmic proportions. I catch up.  With so much going for you, its difficult not to.

Facebook update: @chittor. Lunch. NH76 = awesome 4 lane highway.
31 May at 13:51 via Text message

Dhwaj Shah
Are you traveling only so you can write on FB, or you are writing on FB because you are traveling. Full on updates man...!
31 May at 16:44


Facebook update: Broke my speed record on unmodded R15 -140kmph :) with luggage! :)
31 May at 13:53 via Text message
Rohit Upadhyay and Anil Correa like this.

Nitin Manore
great --par dimag shant rakho ;)
I know the roads up north are too good to be true & tempt you :P
31 May at 13:54

Veeral Joshi
control alankar control... :P
31 May at 13:56

-Rajni Taneja-
Ooe Control Joshile!
31 May at 15:30

Alankar Misra
Of course Rajni! Straight empty loooooooooong road with no vehicles so I revved it!
31 May at 15:56

Dinesh Samtani
Awesome man......live and blog every moment of this trip!!
31 May at 17:42

Sujan Shetty
dude u broke ur 134kmph cool !!!!!!!!
31 May at 18:18

Siddhesh Kulkarni
awesome dude.... try 4 smthg more dan 140, but b safe... all d best !!!
31 May at 18:53

Rohit Upadhyay
Shaabash Cheetey... ;)
31 May at 21:02

For the roads will mesmerize you for miles. For you shall forget family and friends and fun and phenomenon as you rip through the embrace of an open highway. Such is the promise of NH-76. At least for the first few miles. In time, an overwhelming optical illusion dulls your senses. For deviations in the quality and levelling of the tarmac beneath, objects - animate and inanimate - in the immediate vicinity, vehicles competing in a race to no-where; all elements giving you the semblance of speed are distinctly lacking. A few sparse trees on the horizon gliding away drowsily are your only frame of reference; a reference that tricks you time and again  and convinces you that your speedometer peddles falsehoods. It reads 110kmph. I could swear 80kmph was closer to the truth. Ripping becomes monotonous. I sink into a dull mechanical riding stance and keep up a constant throttle, awakening from my phantasy only to capture the beauty of monotony.

Even in my deepest reverie about the life I leave behind, I'm not unaware that Spiderweb seems to be moving away from us. He has throttled up significantly and I can barely keep track of him amidst the mirage that turns tarmac into liquid silver and his silhouette as it dives into the horizon - a sight that will become increasingly familiar as the day dreams on. We, Motorbreath and I, on the other hand, seem to be hovering at 100kmph. I doubt we'll do more for it seems unnecessary.

And so begins a cat and mouse game on the highways of Rajasthan. A drill ensues;

1. We find Spiderweb waiting for us at a toll bridge or a dhaba;
2. He explains to us the significance of the said location if there is one, shares stories about previous rides on the same or similar highways, gives us an indication of what to expect next, shares the excitement or lack thereof of the road so far and tries to convince us, that given enough time, he, Razor and Shiva (his favourite biking team apparently) could bike over Mount Everest's tallest peaks with their hands tied behind their backs, blindfolded no less and yeah, they wouldn't need fuel for the mighty Karizma detests fuel. Of course I exaggerate... no wait, I don't. But I do jest;
3. We, Motorbreath and I, nod our heads in agreement for lack of options;
4. He proceeds to accusing Motorbreath of riding slowly - "You were riding at 80kmph the whole time";
5. Motorbreath denies the accusation asking him to ask me how fast he was going - a consistent range of 100 to 110 if you ask me;
6. Spiderweb chooses not to ask me for the facts aren't important; the entire charade is to try and prod Motorbreath to ride harder - a pointless effort for Motorbreath's crippled steed can do no more regardless of Motorbreath's wishes (It's funny how "If wishes were horses" seems appropriate here but I will refrain from going that road). Of course logic has no place in the discussions either;
7. Motorbreath loses his cool, then his breath, lights up a smoke, hurls abuses, smokes some more, refuses to eat, smokes some more;
8. Spiderweb continues to assault him verbally, while asking him to eat like a caring big brother - an amusing and confusing mix of love and hate;
9. Motorbreath eats;
10. More discourses by Spiderweb on how he, Razor and Shiva achieved that which mere mortals could not achieve;
11. A mandatory brief discourse in the superiority of Karizma over Pulsar;
12. Motorbreath promises to quit smoking by the next stop, as a preventive measure against AMS;
13. Motorbreath smokes some more;
14. Bills are paid from the common pool;
15. Gloves are worn;
16. Motorbreath explains to me why his bike won't go any faster and how he has a feeling of animosity towards Spiderweb;
17. While he talks and I listen, Spiderweb roars his engine and darts off;
18. Spiderweb is a dot in the horizon.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

Soon, the sun will set and the friction will rise. But before dark consumes all, let me quickly give you glimpses of NH-76. We will return to the friction in a moment or should I say in another chapter...

Section 2: The Journey > Chapter 9: False start to Delhi-verance

May 31

It's 9:30am. We've only just begun to wake up. My blood curdling from the previous evening's shiver shower, I refuse to attempt it today. Spiderweb and Motorbreath are taking turns swinging with the H20. By the time we get cleaned up and pack, its just shy of 11am. 15 minutes to 11 to be exact.

Left to right: Spiderweb, Motorbreath

Left: Me

Facebook update: Overslept! Dash to Delhi starts... Now!
31 May at 10:43 via Text message

Divya Misra
cool....take loads of pics plz!
31 May at 10:48

Nitin Manore
remember my last min. instruction :P
31 May at 10:57

Rachit K
yeah.. thats wht i saw.. u started quiet late.. all the best
31 May at 12:13

I speak too soon. For Spiderweb's engine refuses to roll. Button start, kickstart and push start, all rendered completely useless by an equally completely unresponsive engine. Something's gone horribly wrong during night fall and we haven't a clue as to what it could be.  Spiderweb suspects foul play; but in the absence of motive, we disregard the theory. The hunt for a mechanic ends 15 minutes out. He is a busy man; certainly much more than we. But he takes pity on us and decides to dedicate some time to addressing our problem.

As we await his verdict, a suspected battery problem, Motorbreath whispers two words to me that crack me up good...

"Pulsar rocks."

Facebook update: Spiders bike battery dead. Bike won't start with kick either.
31 May at 11:14 via Text message

Veeral Joshi
OMG... All the best brothers... Wat bout dhakka start ??
31 May at 11:19

Alankar Misra
Dhakka start not working either! :(
31 May at 11:31

Veeral Joshi
oh thts bad.. location ? any garage near ?
31 May at 11:33

Veeral Joshi
didnt u carry jumper cables ???
31 May at 11:37

Alankar Misra
Nope :( anyway found z mechanic!
31 May at 11:48

Veeral Joshi
ahh great.. good luck..
31 May at 11:51

-Rajni Taneja-
Yeh Ram! Where have u reached?
How is weather treating you?
31 May at 13:45

Shweta Nadkarni
heyyy...just read all ur updates....seemslike its going great....tk care and hv load of fun.
31 May at 16:18

Winsey Varghese
Is it because i parked my bike close to spiders bike ??.
01 June at 01:49

Alankar Misra
‎@ winsey: rofl!!! Probably! The bajaj effect :-P
01 June at 02:22


The problem though, it would appear, lies beyond the battery. For on close inspection, our capable mechanic ascertains that the ignition supply wire has come undone. He re-attaches it and sure enough the machine comes alive. I have yet to understand why that would prevent a push start, but I will not dwell further on my ignorance. The battery is removed and sent for a re-charge just as a precaution.

With nothing specific on my agenda, I survey my surroundings. I notice commonalities between Rajasthan and its close cousin Gujarat. For automobiles here too, it would appear, come pre-loaded with human heads; little tempos, big tempos, large trucks, larger contraptions that I cannot name, two-wheelers, three-wheelers, four-wheelers all bursting at their seams; water in sachets at a buck a piece being sold at every furlong; helpful people with a hint of innocence, a glint of curiosity and many stories to share. The temperature's rising. We take many swigs of an eclectic mix of sugarcane juice, ginger and mint to stay hydrated and sane.

Facebook update: Bike fixed! Ignition supply wire had come undone. Restart in 15min
31 May at 12:00 via Text message

Veeral Joshi
great... Back on track ;) Good luck ahead.
31 May at 12:01

Snehil Pandey
lage raho !
31 May at 12:10

Mandar Bhandare
lage raho guys ride safe ;)
31 May at 13:55

And even though I say restart in 15, last minute replacements of foot pegs by Motorbreath ensure that we don't restart for 50.

Facebook update: Trip restart now!
31 May at 12:51 via Text message

Satyen Poojary
You guys are late! Early burnout syndrome ;) go relax, remember its not a race! Its a tour! Have fun! Mumbai is hot! Get some ice cubes for us ;)


While we have some semblance of our whereabouts, we rely on the expertise of the locals to chaperon us in the direction of Jaipur. They recommend NH-76 for, unlike other options, this one is a 4-lane highway adorned by dividers which, in biking terms, translates into safety served on a platter. We would be hard-pressed to resist the charms of NH-76. We'll take it.

It's past noon and we've only just begun.

Section 2: The Journey > Chapter 8: Start | Shutdown

May 30

It's half past noon and the trip meter proudly announces five hundred and thirty. "Gandhinagar", the waiter replies to our now obvious query - one which we were obligated to ask for Spiderweb's phone, in a bid to emulate mine, has given in to low battery as well - taking with it our trusty Google Latitude. Hot paneer masala, dal tadka and rotis mingled with a warm "Yes" to our request to charge our phones makes for a sumptuous meal.

Facebook update: In Gandhinagar. 530km on the speedo!
30 May at 12:32 via Text message

Winsey Varghese
nice nice
30 May at 12:50

Vikram Pathak
Wow !! U r moving quick !!
30 May at 12:52

Dinesh Samtani
woah...nice
30 May at 17:41

We rest our bodies as our steeds bask in the afternoon sun. "We may as well look for a lodge now; we have ridden far and fast enough.", we all think in unison.

With re-charged bodies and phones and fire in our bellies, literally and figuratively, we thrust forwards. We don't get far; for the bites we bit not long ago, combined with a night-long journey have brought on the delirium of slumber in no uncertain guise. I can barely make sense of the road ahead. Each rev is a mistake for I am not worthy of the tarmac beneath me in this state of mind. There is not a lodge in sight. Fortunately, I am not alone. Indicators go off once more and Spiderweb pulls over; parks his bike, folds his jacket and lays down on a slope of mud and stone. That's my cue; its time for a power nap for we can't continue no more. I lay down too. Motorbreath though, insists that he wants a comfortable bed to sleep in. He will wait for us to find a lodge. Little does he, nor we know that we won't find a lodge for seven hours and then some, a total in excess of 20 hours into our journey. And lest you forget, he did not sleep the night before for he was doing a night-shift that lasted till noon. The rest of the day flew by in making last minute preparations for our sojourn. But he is adamant. He needs a bed. Mud and rocks just won't do. There are self-evident consequences of that decision.

As we reacquaint ourselves with the denizens of the dreamworld, Motorbreath captures moments and material using my lenses. The results are more than gratifying, in my not-so professional opinion.

Facebook update: Power nap at 550 kms on the side of the highway.
30 May at 13:32 via Text message

Koustubh Shenai
R u at the dhaba tht has awesome paratha's. Where spidy usually finds his cousins, more real spiders.
30 May at 14:13

Awakened by Motorbreath an hour into our slumber, we rev on. Spiderweb's exceptional riding skills save many lives that day - for 3 power slides and many close calls later, it is apparent that the denizens of the National Highway are out to get us. If it were me in the lead, every bird brain that made a bee-line perpendicular to the highway with no regards to our metal hurtling towards them at three digit speeds would be having conversations with God as we speak. They would not live for I am not gifted enough to predict and prevent the consequences of their love for stupidity. For I am not their maker, but I would most certainly meet them, metal to metal, bone to bone.

As evening greets us, Motorbreath's restless anatomy has begun to give in to the fatigue. And while I do not claim to understand his exact state of mind, previous experiences with sleep deprivation allow me to estimate his quandary. For an overpowering desire to snooze coupled with the necessity of staying focused on the road puts the mind in a bind. It struggles to distinguish between thoughts that are sourced through the subconscious dream state and thoughts that emanate from the surrounding state of reality. Subtle shifts in shadows brought on by the environment - rustling trees, floating clouds, constructions on the highway side sliding by - are mistaken to be movements on the tarmac - signaling the possibility of an approaching vehicle. I have often found myself changing lanes in order to prevent collision with these phantom contraptions. As for real metal, capable of slicing through flesh and bone like butter through knife, zipping inches past me has seldom spawned a sense of any real danger in me. It's like being thrown into the world of virtual reality wherein I might crash and burn and watch them sparks fly, but as with everything else, my mind assumes, incorrectly, that the hurt will be virtual too. A few negative points at best. Needless to say, its a dangerous state of mind and metal, unworthy of movement.  And yet, Motorbreath hasn't a choice. For he still refuses to rest his brow. A warm Red Bull shared between us and once more, we ride on, trying to play catch with Spiderweb who has informed us not 10 minutes ago that he is 15 minutes away from our site. His phone is since offline.

Once more, I have failed to notice our entry to Rajasthan. I will fail to notice a lot more in the hours to come. But I do notice Spiderweb, waiting for us, just round the bend, near a temple it would seem. We are handed small sachets of water for a buck a piece by little boys intrigued by us. We've grown accustomed to the questions now.

"Bike kitne ka hai?" (How much does the bike cost?)
"Kitna mileage hai iska?" (How many kilometers does the bike run on one liter of fuel?)
"Yamaha toh bahut daudti hai." (The Yamaha runs really fast)

I would answer their questions honestly. Motorbreath though would, for his own amusement, double the price and halve the mileage just to see the look on their faces. The looks were hilarious I must say. I am guilty of doing the same in future adventures.

Spiderweb buys 10 sachets of water and stuffs them in his saddles. Ludicrously wasteful; we won't need so many, I think to myself. We finish the packets within the hour - some consumed, some poured over our scorching heads.

The road ahead is a divine blend of smooth curves and leveled tar. We hit them curves with all the adrenalin we've got. For many moments, as we twist and bend over the corners, all fatigue is forgotten. But as we stop for a brief snack and scout around for lodging, I realize quickly that my mind and body have given up the battle many revs ago. Only the adrenalin is keeping me upright. For I now struggle to breathe in the arid Rajasthan air. Just a little bit further... we're almost there.

Facebook update: 66kms away from udaipur rite now. Slow safe pace at the moment.
30 May at 17:11 via Text message

Sagar Raikar, Choudhari Rohit, Anil Correa, Gopinath PS, Samardeep Singh and Anirudh Khusape like this.

Dinesh Samtani
Nice!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So you guys finally reach Udaipur!!!!!
30 May at 17:42

Satyen Poojary
Good! Stop and rest, if you feel enthu enough stretch max to ajmer. (Cheaper, and tomos ride would be a breeze!
30 May at 18:04

Anirudh Khusape
Thats awesome ... take rest.. keep us updated..
30 May at 19:25

Gopinath PS
awesomeee!
30 May at 21:52

Sujan Shetty
awesomeee dude
31 May at 03:15

Sagar Raikar
alll the best people.....
31 May at 12:01

As we big adieu to NH8, we get sucked into dirt tracks and traffic jams. Curse our luck for I do not want to ride no more. A brief stop for directions. A quick click.

After much trial and tribulation we find lodging at Rs 600/- with an additional penalty of Rs 100/- for being three instead of the two. More paneer masala and dal tadka - this time in a different State. A vote on Rajasthan vs  Gujarat. Gujarat wins for their superior dal tadka. Not a fair and rational contest, but one experiences a strange sense of power while writing off entire States for their inferior dal tadka.


As I shower that evening, heat trapped in my body underneath the thick protective layers seeths through my skin following its path down thermodynamics. I feel it radiate out of my body. I lose heat quickly as I begin to shiver violently and uncontrollably. I feel weak; I feel old. Questions, some sane, some insane begin to creep into the crevices of my now broken mind. Will I be able to sustain the rest of the journey? What if my body breaks down somewhere along the way? Will I be able to live with myself? What of my life that I left behind? Will it await me on my return? Do I wish to return?

Exhaustion has broken me down. I do not want to think no more, for the thoughts I think aren't worthy of thought. By the time I exit, I'm exhausted physically, mentally, spiritually. I ache at my very core. And as I watch them both make frantic phone calls to loved ones, I miss not having to miss. For I miss no one; none I can call anyway.

As I take the floor, its still early, but I'm beat. I manage to pound out one last update for the day and its lights out for me.

Facebook update: Updaipur. Dinner, rest, then the rest :-) 782km on speedo. Gnite!
30 May at 19:42 via Text message

Deepak Vadhani
GREAT GOING GUYS....................
31 May at 08:20

Gopinath PS
great stuff!
31 May at 09:32

I wake up several times that night; my exhausted mind causing me to talk...nay...yell in my sleep. I do not know what I say but fear that I might awaken the two. I look up onto the bed. They are as oblivious to the world as I.

The following morning will see a ritual that is to be repeated every sunrise from that day on. Spiderweb's phone alarm goes off at the predictable hour of 6am.

Spiderweb: Motor....motor...
Motorbreath: Hmmmmm.....
Spiderweb: Uth ja... (wake up)
Motorbreath: Hmmmmm.....

And they both sink into slumber again only to awaken many hours later. I am an accomplice in this charade for I do not discourage them.

Section 2: The Journey > Chapter 7: Frictionology

May 30

For even in a journey we take together, we follow different motivations. For a single destination may be preceded by distinct paths. For the same path may be tread with different strides. For the same strides may be taken on different ground. For unless we match each other stride for stride, somewhere down this path, on each others foot will we tread.

And a similar fate was sealed for Spiderweb and Motorbreath. For Spiderweb does not do slow. Two digits are a necessary evil to get to three. Speed is as essential as air. Without it, he suffocates. The absence of speed leads to boredom, boredom to sluggishness, sluggishness to mistakes, mistakes to disaster. Or so he reasons...

For Motorbreath cannot follow; his steed broken, beaten down by the sands of time and a mistake - a mistake to leave her wounds unbandaged - a throbbing silencer, a painfully bald tyre. She will ride as hard as she can; but three digits are torture.

For the two shall collide, one accusing the other of wastefully stretching timelines. I believe the exact words were "You are slowing the group down." For the other is unable to verbalize the insanity of the accusation, choosing instead to pace and obscure the hurt behind the veil of smokes. For never the twain shall meet except in pretense.

For the fast shall be furious; leaving us biting his dust, letting us catch up on toll bridges. Catch up we will only to be left biting his dust again, an exercise in frustration and fatigue.

For I remain a bystander in the friction, for now. My steed can outrun them all, but a promise I have made and a promise I will keep. For I shall become the source of friction in the days to come, doing all that I promised I would not do, forgetting I am all of 33 for I behave all of 10. But I'm getting ahead of the story here.

Friction is inconvenient at best; dangerous at worst. But it exists; threatening to jeopardize our odyssey, break our spirits. Succeed it will not. For come rain or shine, we know to do one and one thing alone. We ride on.

Section 2: The Journey > Chapter 6: No tank you.

May 30

Sometimes the Universe conspires in our favour. And today was to be that day. For a few furlongs into the ride, a tractor with a dismembered wheel, lying carelessly in the shade of a raw construction, catches our eye. The idle rim hinting at the possibility of capable hands behind the wheel. We follow the dirt track to the construction and as we do, a greased human bobs up into our view port. We ask for help and, to our relief, we get it. He gets to work, removing the seat, disentangling the tank from the rest of the machine; but not before he empties the fuel into 2 large canisters. He flips over the tank so we may view its innards; his face beaming through multiple cracks. It will need to be gas welded. It will need to be taken elsewhere for our saviour in shining grease hasn't the equipment. And so, he, along with an aid who hugs the tank like he has loved no other, hop on their trusty scooter and leave us with a promise to be back within the hour.

Facebook update: Motors bike tank leaking. Gas welding being done @50 bucks.
30 May at 09:54 via Text message

Satyen Poojary
M-Seal lagao ;) ... Where are you guys now?
30 May at 10:23

Gopinath Venugopal
Day One..rocking.
30 May at 10:26

Anil Correa
no wonder he was able to put 21 liters of fuel in it.
30 May at 10:28

Adway Kudalkar
‎@anil yeah... :)
30 May at 12:08

Snehil Pandey
hahaha...thank god pata chal gaya
30 May at 12:51

Sagar Raikar
kaun bola 21l bharne
31 May at 00:11 

We idle our time away; sometimes toying with our phones, mostly indulging in pointless discussions on Karizma vs Pulsar perpetuated by their respective owners. I am reluctant to call these discussions "debates" for they would have to have the intellectual equivalence of "My father is better than your father" in the debating realm. Spiderweb manages to activate GPRS on his trusty phone and installs Google Latitude - a magnificent GPS Navigation system telling us where we are, where we want to be (with a little help from us) and how to get from here to there. The system will help us out of some tight spots in the days to come. My phone gives in to a dying battery. Nothing unproductive left to do. I remove my jacket, fold it up, find myself some shade and drift into oblivion.

I'm awakened by Motorbreath announcing that our saviour has since returned. The cracks have disappeared. Brand new scratches have been carefully added to the contraption, perhaps as a memento to remind Motorbreath of this day. Motorbreath isn't thrilled. He did not say so. I deduced it from the number of times he uttered F*** in ten seconds. A few more minutes dedicated to cursing his mechanic in Mumbai who failed to spot this issue and we are back in the saddle again.

It's nearing noon now. We expect it to be frighteningly hot. But things are about to get cold... very cold.

Section 2: The Journey > Chapter 5: Gujarat in my window

May 30th

When I digressed last, Motorbreath wasn't in my viewport. Few seconds out, and there he is, a red-black spec of flesh and metal riding into my view horizon. As he pulls alongside me, he gestures indicating his steed cannot cope with speeds beyond a 110kmph. He rides ahead to demonstrate. With full throttle, and me tailing closely behind, he blasts off into the ether once more. And no sooner does my speedometer register a 110, sure enough, his steed starts stalling. To further impress his point, Motorbreath crouches over to minimize drag. Nope; his speedo stays defiantly at 1-1-0. I notice one additional problem. His silencer is quivering, hanging precariously from the steed as an extraneous limb. Motorbreath is more than aware of the problem; for through the remainder of our journey, his worn-out tyres and broken silencer cause him, and us, a great deal of anxiety.

As the six lane highway dissolves into a one lane with two-way traffic, three digit speeds become a luxury. Thankfully, the tarmac seems to be in mint condition - a welcome respite in otherwise aggravating riding conditions. Aggravating, for vehicle discipline is vastly undermined on one lanes. Oncoming vehicles plagiarizing our space, pushing us into extremities of the tarmac in a bid to shave off a few minutes from what is possibly their daily commute and doing so with an apologetic smile as if to say, "I'm sorry I'm nearly trying to kill you; but 5 minutes of my time are perhaps more precious then the lifetime that lays ahead of you. Sorry again. Don't be a stranger now! I'll screw you again soon.". The absurdity is not restricted to one lane. It translates equally well into 2, 4 and 6. Even dividers don't prevent some from attempting murder on our side of the tardom. We frequently encounter these smiling serial killers on motor heading directly toward us on a corner in the middle of a cornering lean, only to have to shift our weight, redirect the machine's momentum and steer clear of Dhansukhbhai and family. But I'm getting ahead of the story here...

Aggravating or not, our progress is tempered. For once, I get my chance to give Gujarat the eye. And while I'm painfully aware that whatever little is offered up by the NH8 through the window of my hardhat is not representative of Gujarat in all its glory, I'm blessed to have a flavour of its experience. For I have been here before; when I was just a boy. The memories have since faded; those that stood beside me then, stand beside me no more. Them I remember in this moment.

Maybe its just me but I notice a certain softness to the nature of Nature in Gujarat; a quiet contradiction to the raw spirit of Maharashtra. Paddy fields run alongside for miles. Parrot green rickshaws with yellow hats carrying at least 15 passengers; all you see of them are their heads - like a bouquet of human faces wrapped neatly in steel.

I see faces; each one with a story of his or her own. The young offer a look of bewilderment and excitement over our outlandish appearance; the middle-aged, quiet smiles and glances, often looking away as if to catch a dream of their own; the old - a glazed look of anguish and indifference. Of course I generalize. For there is evidence of indifference in youth and of dream-catchers without pearly whites.

Our journey seems to be progressing at discernible pace; no nasty surprises so far except for one.

Facebook update: Bee splattered on motors helmet n left big foul stench!
30 May at 07:10 via Text message

Winsey Varghese
lol :P
thats normal ;)
30 May at 12:04
 
Leena Sabharwal
u got any honey ??!!
30 May at 21:38

Dinesh Samtani
LOL!!!!!!!
31 May at 01:48


and moments later...


Facebook update: 425km @vasad!
30 May at 07:17 via Text message

-Rajni Taneja-
Nice Nice...
Ride safe N keep updating!
30 May at 12:11

Dinesh Samtani
awesome!!!
30 May at 17:39

Gopinath Venugopal
i hope the update ka josh stays through the whole trip....take care
30 May at 21:28

"We'll get our forty winks in Ahmedabad, elude the merciless sun", I think to myself. So far it has chosen to hide behind the clouds and revel in our fear. We still have some way to go before we rendezvous with the Big-A.

A peacock spotting by Spiderweb gives us an excuse to take a break, rest our backs, hydrate ourselves. As we hop back onto our steeds, Motorbreath hollers out to us. There's a puddle of liquid underneath his machine. We hope to God its just a minor oil spill. But on close inspection, the unmistakable smell of petrol convinces us that God wasn't listening.

Facebook update: Motors bike leaking petrol in drips! Trying to figure out COL.
30 May at 09:30 via Text message
(COL = Cause of Leak; which I derived from COD = Cause of Death (CSI). I thought it was clever at the time.)

We need to find the cause and fix it before his fuel runs out.

Section 2: The Journey > Chapter 4: Interlude

You'd be a deluded writer if, at the onset of your adventure, you went on to declare that the protagonists lived happily ever after. For even though it is, for the most part, an expectation...nay a law by which most adventures are written; your readers don't want to hear you blurt it out when you've barely begun telling the story. They like to delude themselves that the converse is indeed possible, only to discover for themselves that which they always knew. Its the thrill of self discovery they seek and its nothing short of criminal to deprive them of their right.

And yet I am about to step across literary bounds and commit murder. I am about to reveal, that the protagonists did indeed live happily up until the publication of this note. As for the ever after, your guess is as good as mine. Why would I commit such blatant mutiny? Why would I murder my own child?

For the dynamics of this blog are vastly different from your average paperback. This is being read, for the most part, as its being written, chapter by chapter. I do not have the liberty to go back and edit my words - at least not before I cause some buzz. This puts me in a precarious situation. For as the stories unfold, there will be times where readers will be quick to judge us, our intellect, our riding, our friendship, our very core. And while perceptions might change as the adventure progresses and the protagonists mature, given the interlude between each post, opinions will be formed; opinions not about fictitious characters, but about real people. I fear that these opinions may be unfair and just plain wrong in the absence of the big picture, one that will be woven only at the completion of this blog.

It is to prevent this mishap that I inject this interlude.

As the pages progress, you will see us fail, you will see us falter, you will see us buckle under the pressures of long distance riding, give in to fatigue, to anger, to stupidity, to selfishness, to misinformation. We turn on each other, call each other names, behave like infants...sometimes animals, scream till we can breathe no more, hate till we can hate no more. Yes, its all here. It all happens.

But as you read through the passages, don't be quick to judge us, or judge one. For as fervently as we do all of the above, we share laughs, stories of lovers lost, of joys, of sorrows, of disasters, of potential soul mates lost in the sands of time, of the joys of biking, of the need for biking with equal zest. We fall only to find at least one other lending a helping hand, words of comfort and some much needed spare change, spare cigarettes, spare parts... of the biking genre I must clarify. And yes, we do live happily ever after - that is up until today. For now our destinies are tied together no more.

And with that quick clarification, we continue forth with our journey. Remember, do not judge us, for we do not judge our selves, individually, or collectively. We merely make mistakes, learn from them, or try to and then forget them all as we chart our course for more adventures...

Section 2: The Journey > Chapter 3: Flirting with the R15

May 30th

Her red will drive you green with envy. On our exit from Mumbai, she has a little over 10,000 kms total on the odometer. Yeah, we don't go out that much. I laugh at how little I knew her when I first got her. It was love at first 130kmph. I made her mine.

As the sun comes up, the fatigue of an extremely arduous night-ride is fast catching up. My eyes are weary, my mind is wandering. I can barely focus on the road. None of us can. But we must reach Ahmedabad before noon, for we've been warned "Riding after noon in Gujarat in complete gear will be no less fun than sticking your head into a microwave."

We can't stop. So we do the next best thing. We rip. (For the benefit of non-biker readers, to rip = to ride extremely fast). The adrenalin rush from watching the world dissolve around us should allow us a few more hours of riding. The now 6-lane NH-8 welcomes our strategy with open lanes. We devour them, like caged-beasts getting their first taste of freedom.

The first few revs and the R15's speedometer climbs to 80. Fast, but hardly a worthy number for her. More throttle...110...nice. She's capable of more. I've seen it. I tease her with the throttle - as if to say "Ready for more?". Her engine purrs...almost a giggle. "Bring it on. I'm just getting warmed up.".

120...she's willing, capable, impatient to do more. My upright body won't let her. It creates several points of wind resistance (drag) impeding her. I slide back, lower my head, crouch forward. It's time to be one.

That's all she needs.

The ether explodes around me as she slices the air into two halves...the right and what's left.

130...132...134...136...

She's not shaking, she's not groaning. I can barely hear her engine roar - a testimony to the marvel of modern engineering. Blessed am I for having shared the same space with her. The only semblance of speed I have is the deafening sound of the wind whiplashing my hard-hat.

Several minutes have passed. Kilometers have faded quickly. I've realized I've broken formation. I'm ahead of the pack. I check my rear-view. I see Spiderweb. No sign of Motorbreath. Where is he...?

Section 2: The Journey > Chapter 2: Two hundred miles and counting...

May 29th / May 30th

11 ticks on the clock into the Prime Meridian. National Highway (NH) 8 crawls beneath us. Spiderweb, Motorbreath, I, in that order. Trucks, Lorries, monster vehicles defying definition, loaded to the brim rumble on beside us; their sheer size summarily mocking our own. Dirt tracks and pot-holes caress our wheels as I utter a silent prayer for the fork seals. "This is just the beginning", I think to myself.

Motobreath's brake-lights overwhelm my visual cortex at every opportunity; arguably very useful on city streets; a stumper on our chosen journey. On the advice of a confidant, I must tail him for the rest of the journey. "Keep Motorbreath in your sight. He might not be able to keep pace with Spiderweb and you." is what I was made to believe. And so, follow I must. And follow I will for the rest of the journey, with a few notable exceptions.

We seem to be riding at a steady pace. I'm thirsty but I dare not stop for fear of being left behind. "What if I do get left behind...what if...", I don't finish the thought. Indicator lights go off. Spiderweb banks left, rides into a small compound. Motorbreath follows. I do the obvious. Hotel Aaram - Pure Veg. I reckon they spent a full five seconds on brainstorming the name. I reckon they spent fewer still on the decor. "Pure Veg" annoys me for I am anything but pure. The tag will haunt us for many miles to come.

A few clicks. Blurry and unimpressive. Nevertheless, more than words...

Left to right: Motorbreath, Spiderweb

 Facebook update: 110 kms complete! Late dinner (daal roti) n off we go!
 30 May at 01:11 via Text message
 

 Gopinath PS
  good riding man :)
  30 May at 01:30

  Dinesh Samtani
  ya man...good riding...
  30 May at 01:58

  Winsey Varghese
  GO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  30 May at 02:10

  Satyen Poojary
  Not bad! Its a journey not a race, remember that and have fun!
  30 May at 02:29

  Sujan Shetty
  good keep goin
  30 May at 10:05

  Honey Misra
  goog keep updating regularly then i dont have to torture d for info tc
  30 May at 19:17 

4 more ticks to the hour. Low visibility. Tired, sleepy eyes. 200 odd kilometers on the odometer. The roads metamorphosize from unbearable to the antithesis. Spiderweb promises us they will get better. We've bid adieu to Maharashtra several revs ago. I notice the transition only when we arrive at Chikhli, Gujarat. I reckon there were other indications to the fact; perhaps a toll both welcoming us into Gurjar-rashtra, gone unnoticed in my sleep-laden progress. I wonder if we've missed any scenic treats owing to the dark of the night. A return journey, several moons later, indicates that I have not. 

Borivali, Mumbai (my home) to Chikhli, Gujarat (~200 kms)

 Facebook update: Total 212 kms done! @chickli!
 30 May at 02:41 via Text message

 Anil Correa likes this.

 Satyen Poojary
 Go easy dude,
 30 May at 02:43

 Anirudh Khusape
 Hope you are feeling better :)
 30 May at 04:50

 Dinesh Samtani
 Cool......
 30 May at 07:07

 Sujan Shetty
 cool
 30 May at 10:10

 Rohit Upadhyay
 good..ride safe guys ;)
 30 May at 13:24 

Many miles slip away beneath us. Quizzical looks follow us across State boundaries. On more than one occassion, local riders - if I can indeed I can call them riders - in their helmetless avatar - attempt to impress their apparent biking superiority on us - a typical response to our outworldly appearance owing to our security gear and travel supplies. They attempt to overtake us and succeed cause we let them; they attempt to break our formation by injecting themselves into the riding hierarchy - but our intolerance to formation leakages causes us to quickly reclaim our space; they fall back, pretend to adjust their privates, and repeat the process to show us that they can do it not once, but many times over. Our security conscious culture prevents us from getting throttle-happy on the naive bastards. Several patient minutes later, most reach their destinations and leave us to our journey. Some strike conversations with Spiderweb, including one who passes on his visiting card while cruising at 100kmph. We can only laugh hysterically at their senseless display of bravado; we can only sympathize with their desperation to prove their worth to unknown, uncaring riders. We have nothing but mockery to offer to such mindlessness.

 Facebook update:  353 kms :-)
 30 May at 05:48 via Text message

 Satnam Singh Vohra and Vikram Pathak like this.

 Leena Sabharwal
 dheere chala.. wig udd jayega !!
 30 May at 21:37

A few more ticks to the small hand and...

L&T

Our babies; left to right: Motorbreaths Pulsar 200, my R15, Spiderwebs Karizma

Left to right: Spiderweb, me, Motorbreath

Me and my baby

...a welcome sunrise. A more than welcome break from riding for our collective butts are sore, our collective eyes weary and our collective minds the unmentionables. On the side of the positive, a metamorphosis of NH8 into a 6-lane highway makes it a perfect environment to flirt with the R15...