We float on air today for the wind runs with us. Spiderweb seems tranquil now. He throttles hard no more allowing the three us and the three them to ride together as one. I've rescinded into my responsibilities as the tail and yet I see none ahead. My eyes scour the surroundings gleaming at the muddy brown artwork laced with streaks of green. I am told our path will lead us through Shayok on to Nubra from whence we will head to Diskit. I am told Shayok will be a rough path for there is no semblance of tarmac in the region. It doesn't bother me though for I believe the Universe pampers me today.
Perhaps I spoke too soon, for as I run a bend I notice Vishal and Drifter awaiting us on the sidelines with grim expressions. Vishal's steed, a Passion, has a flat tyre. We have not a tool to fix it. RomeoMike spots a tent in the vicinity and, assuming its an army checkpost, decides to ask them for aid. As it turns out, they are BRO (Border Roads Organization) workmen and haven't the tools we need. They recommend we ride further to a much larger BRO settlement where we might find the help we need. We thank them and resume riding. Our progress is down to a crawl. I notice that the R-15 is running dangerously low on fuel. We can only tank up in Diskit. I do not know how many kilometers there are to Diskit - perhaps too many for comfort.
Spiderweb doesn't seem to be in a mood to stall. He wishes to continue riding at his own pace gaining on us. Motorbreath follows suit. I'm torn for I need to stick to my herd and yet I do not believe in leaving the family three behind in a time of crisis. Not here, not in the middle of nowhere.
As Spiderweb and Motorbreath disappear into the horizon, RomeoMike suggests that as an alternative to each of us riding in low gears and burning more fuel than necessary, we should perhaps split. He would ride with Vishal while Drifter and I could ride ahead looking for help. When we do find help, one of us would ride back with the necessary tools. We all seem to be in agreement and consequently Drifter and I rev up.
We do not maintain the high throttle for long for the tarmac completely disappears from beneath us. Boulders, pebbles, mud, sand coalesce together to dampen our progress. Sharp stones creep up on us sending our steeds richocheting against needle points severely escalating the probability of contracting a puncture. We ride in bursts, for navigating the steeds across sand and stone is getting increasingly laborious. Each time we stop, we share the same concern:
With steeds in near-perfect health - we seem to be struggling at every corner. How, in the blessed name of the Universe, are the trailing two going to make it with a flat tyre.
We keep riding for we must find help. The sun will not be a companion for long. Drifter stays in the lead for a while. There comes a point though where I believe Drifter to be slowing us down, perhaps out of fatigue. I overtake Drifter and assume lead so as to give him a break. Just as I do, we hit a large bed of pointed rocks laid down by the BRO as a foundation for the tarmac to be laid down in the days to come. As I navigate cautiously through the stones I notice Drifter revs up for he has mistaken my maneuver to be an insult to his capabilities to lead. In a moment of dangerous bravado he rips through the stones and overtakes me with rocky shrapnel flying off his rear wheel. I slow down, breathe deep, and promise myself to ride away from him for his fragile ego might be the death of the both of us. By the time we traverse the bed of rocks, my body is sweating profusely despite temperatures approaching 15 degrees if not less. I'm exhausted to my very core as is Drifter. Once again, all we have to say is "How will Vishal and RomeoMike do this?".
As we hit a bend, we notice a road roller indicating that perhaps there is a settlement near by. Indeed our hunch is on the money for a hundred meters ahead, just round another bend lie tents and the familiar sight of a Karizma, Pulsar couple. We've caught up with Spiderweb and Motorbreath. They look exhausted as well. We've been riding for well over 2 hours now across one of the most unfriendly territories in the region. Spiderweb informs us that we now stand in a BRO labour camp. I look around - I'm surrounded by BRO workmen each looking at my machine with intrigue. Their glances are curious though respectful. The workmen inform us that the settlement we seek is a couple of kilometers further down and that we would indeed get the assistance we need to fix punctures and anything else that we might care for. We thank them and leave a message with them for RomeoMike and Vishal stating that should they not hear from us for any reason, we would await their arrival at the settlement and would not move further until we hear from them.
The road ahead drains more of our steeds and our souls. For at one juncture, we must traverse a mound of sand. With each rev our tyres dig deeper sink deeper into the grain. While some make it on pure torque, others use limbs to propel themselves upwards. And while we make it uphill, its the downhill that causes us most grief. Drifter manages to exit first, Spiderweb next. Motorbreath's wheels sink in deeper as he revs through but with Drifter's aid he too manages to wriggle out of the clutches of the sand. The R-15 sinks too and with low torque, slithers into absolute impotence. Drifter will once again rush in for the rescue, pulling the R-15s back wheel out of the sand with pure arm strength. It is this feat of his that will make me respect him more than ever for to show such strength in situation where we are all clearly exhausted to the core is awe-inspiring to say the least.
We nudge on often seeing flickers of light and being disappointed for it was just an isolated tent and not the settlement we seek. At long last we see solar street lights, a conglomerate of tents and metal structures, including a bridge. To our relief, we made it.
Motorbreath suggests I go in and speak to the man in charge asking him for aid for, in his opinion, I'm the oldest and will be taken seriously and while I resent his observation, I will play along with it for now. I inquire with a workmen as to who I should see for I seek help for my mates. He directs me to a tent where I find a lone officer seated in front of a large register in which he jots down copious notes about things that do not concern me. A young boy walks in after me and asks the officer if he is ready for dinner. The officer nods looking briefly in my direction with absolute disinterest. He looks young, perhaps too young to be so jaded. Perhaps his environment inspires him no more. He resumes jotting. I squeek "Sir...". He looks up again, his indifference to my presence there freezing my very core. I explain our situation to him, that we await the arrival of our friend who has braved the broken paths despite an ailing steed; that perhaps we would have to wait here longer than we like and that we would be grateful if could help us with fixing a puncture and give us shelter until the morning for the sun has already set on us and traversing these paths in the still of the night would not be a safe alternative. He listens patiently. As I finish, he expresses his inability to help us stating only that we should perhaps head back to where we came from. I weigh my options and realize I have none but to plead. I nudge for his attention once more much to his annoyance. I explain that given that we've traveled many miles during the day, we stand before him exhausted and helpless. Riding through the debris in broad daylight had been close to impossible. Finding our way back in pitch dark with bodies that beg for mercy would be a herculean task - one that we might not be competent to achieve. We NEED their help. He stares at me for a while. I can tell he reads my eyes. Finally, with a deep exhale, he suggests I meet the bade saab. I ask him where I can find the bade saab. He directs me to the adjoining tent. I thank him and find my way to the man who now decides our fate.
As I walk into the tent I'm greeted by a sight of 8 men huddled together watching a movie on Star Gold with bade saab lying comfortably on an iron bed enjoying the spectacle as well. I regurgitate our dilemma to bade saab. Mercifully, bade saab is more generous in his outlook for he orders that a tent be emptied for the new arrivals and dinner be prepared. He informs me that we should be welcome to stay for as long as we like and that, while they did not possess the tools to fix punctures, he did know of someone who could help us a few kilometers out in Aghyam, a micro-settlement we would find on our way to Numbra. We thank him for his hospitality, park our steeds and rest a while. Riding back to RomeoMike and Vishal at this stage is not a clever option. We are dangerously low on fuel and we are ill equipped constitutionally to make the journey on foot.
As minutes turn to hours, we are increasingly concerned about the whereabouts of Vishal and RomeoMike. We had hoped they would reach us by now. Perhaps they stayed back at the labour camp. There seems to be no way to communicate with the labour camp even though human ingenuity has found a way to relay B-grade Bollywood movies into little boxes in disconnected tents. We won't rest until we know of the well being of our comrades. Consequently, we decide to walk back to the camp. We leave Drifter stand guarding while we set out for a trek. Our host provides us with an old Nokia cell phone with an embedded torch light. We begin our journey but even as we do, we realize how fatigued we are for every ten steps render us breathless as we gasp for air. Motorbreath goes into a moment of indecisiveness where he argues that if we don't find them there, there's nothing more we can do and if we do find them there, they are safe to begin with. Consequently our trek would mean nothing. And while his argument may be logical, our hearts reached out to the trailing two. We could not just sit and do nothing. And so we walked on.
I do not know how long we've walked but the labour camp brings forth only disappointment. There's no sign of RomeoMike and Vishal.
Where the f uck are they?
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