June 5, 2010
We find Drass, Spiderweb and I. The ambience has much to offer and offer it does. My mind politely declines for it is blinded by hunger. It sees nothing. Fatigue is all the experience it will experience. As I run in and out of consciousness, I unwillingly point my lens in Spiderweb's direction as he carefully constructs his third pose against the backdrop of a signage that announces our arrival to the second coldest inhabited place in the world. I see him say something but my declining mind can only register a few keywords. I believe he wants me to ensure that I frame the signage completely. I nod casually, not looking, for I do not care. A flash goes off and I presume I have done my duty. But Spiderweb will not leave until he captures me in this historic location. "Dude, this is epic! Stand in front of the sign. Now look here..., now there..." he will iterate with child-like excitement. I will oblige, as if doing him a favour, only to later recall thanking him in my head for making sure that I did not forget my duty to record the evidence of my escapades so that I may share them with those that could not follow.
We resume the ride; but not for long for we bump into our lost comrades a furlong away.
Motorbreath and Aman, those that rode ahead whilst we were left behind; each looking furious - an emotion I believe to be misplaced for it would find a more hospitable and justifiable spot in Spiderweb's consciousness; for it was he who was left behind with a broken steed. They enquire accusingly as to our whereabouts stressing that they have wasted over an hour waiting for us. We argue that instead of riding ahead all the way to Drass without us in sight, had they awaited our arrival at Zozila, we probably would have been able to communicate to them that Spiderweb's steed now revved with a limp and a gasp. It would not hit the high notes until it was cared for. Aman nudges us to forget the discussion and continue riding to Kargil. I decline stating I would prefer to refuel my body before we stress on. Aman presses further stating they are all hungry and tired but we need to continue riding to gain ground. I think to myself, "Gain ground on whom or what? Surely we follow no one." I counter his argument stating that he could ride hungry and tired if he so wished. The state of my constitution did not permit me to do so. This was a vacation, not a test of my ability to torture myself and I will eat if I so please. Aman's tone turns a sarcastic, icy, blue as he lets out "Lo... mujhe to pata hi tha yeh hone walla hai" (I knew this would happen). At this point my nerves are beginning to get the better of me. Logic suggests that Aman is pushing us to press on due to his desire to catch up with the Pune regiment once more. Emotion suggests that if his desperation to be with them should have motivated him to leave with them from Srinagar. Logic suggests that he too had ridden with us the night before to Srinagar and it was inhuman to expect him to have woken up in time for the Puneris. Emotions suggest that his circumstances weren't my problem. We promised to ride with him to Srinagar to rendezvous with the Puneris and the Universe is witness to our staggering efforts. If the Puneris left without a care, there was certainly no reason for us to continue chasing them.
Chase them I won't; listen to my heart I will; give a fuck, I do.
And before Logic could formulate a response; Emotion has summoned Anger and Anger gives Aman a piece of my mind even as I storm off into a bakery to pick up cream buns and cups of chai for Spiderweb and me. I offer some to Motorbreath.
He declines informing me that Aman and he had only just finished with their own bingeing activity. It is a response that will trigger a burst of rage within my cranium for I now recall Aman's assertion that they were all hungry and tired. Lie he did of being tired for in their own admission, they waited for an hour. Lie he did on being hungry as well. For what I ask? My mind cannot contain the Anger as it screams murderous rage. This time round though, Motorbreath suffers my wrath as I accuse him of abandoning us an accusation that will last several minutes. Spiderweb stands on the sidelines, letting me do his dirty laundry. As sugar finds its way into my system, I temper down and the conversation takes a civil tone.
Drass is forgettable for it is minuscule; adorned only by a handful of housing structures of rock and wood. And yet, forget it we won't for the historical and geographical relevance of the land we stand on is frighteningly relevant. I do not experience Drass in all its glory for we must continue our journey.
I realize now that our bike chains need cleaning and lubing for they have definitely done more than their fair share of pulling and prodding for the day. As Motorbreath and I undertake to clean and lube each bike using our canisters, Spiderweb slips into a reverie of his own while we lose Aman to slumber as he drifts into nothingness; seated upright and without support on a desolate and dirty staircase.
We will lose Aman once more. This time to nature for, not many miles out of Drass, the sight of a stream grips Spiderweb, forcing him to ease into a causeless stop, one that is reciprocated my Motorbreath and I. Aman though, unmoved by nature's persistent displays, moves on. We blare our horns in a vain attempt to catch his eye, to pull him back. But his focus is forward. He will evade us until Kargil comes.
Technology aids our weary eyes as a lens zoom shows us that which we cannot see. Time gently rocks by as our hearts tune in to the soothing conversations between water and stone. They speak of everything in general, of nothing in particular and from the sound of it, of happiness, of freedom, of peace. It is an experience I wish to share with those that do not follow, and yet, incapable am I, for I am a human, cursed with speech, trapped in words, withdrawn from the simplicity and effectiveness of action. In the decades of buying into meaningless diction, I seem to have forgotten the efficacy of being, of doing, of demanding evidence for promises; for it is in the light of evidence, these promises would reveal themselves for what they were. Fucking lies.
We wander for what seems like hours and yet time seems irrelevant. The law of diminishing returns has no place in a timeless space. But we must move forward. Kargil awaits us. We reckon Kargil would be our destination for the day for the Universe will refuse to shed light on the paths to follow; at least not before another revolution.
And so, through tar and stone and settlements big and small, we push fowards.
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Kargil. I sense change for green turns to brown, trees to stone, and warm welcomes to icy disregard. We find Aman's bike announcing his presence in the vicinity. He is busy calling home. Others follow suit. I wait for I have none to call.
As we begin our hunt for shelter, it dawns on me that we are not welcome in Kargil for all I perceive of its denizens is disgust and despair. We are refused accommodation in what seem to be empty lodges. We are told they are full. After several frustrating attempts and riding uphill and downhill on narrow, cluttered lanes, we find shade in a run down structure. A bed is all they have to offer along with a bathroom that must be shared with those on the same floor, 3 rooms in all.
Hungry once more, we decide to take a walk along the Kargil marketplace, hunting for food. In what seems to be a pattern, each restaurant we visit tells us there is no food available. Historical this land is. Tourist friendly it is not. We regret our decision to stay over. This is not the India I was out to find. It does not want me. I don't want it. One and only one restaurant lets us in with a promise of food. But they will serve one and only one dish - Rice and Chicken Curry. They have nothing else we are told. We gladly accept whatever they have to offer. Beggars can't be choosers and neither can tourists in Kargil.
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Evening dawns. I wish it hadn't for I feel cold. I feel lonely. I feel inconsequential. I feel pain. I feel anger. I feel anger at pain. I feel stupid. I feel broken. I feel ostracized. I feel confused. I feel suicidal. I feel pain. I feel pain. I feel pain.
Perhaps its the hostile environment. Or perhaps its memories of those that left me. One way or the other, this land makes me miserable. I would ride out tonight if I could just to be free of my misery; to be free of all that is and was me. To be free of memories that will haunt me for as long as I shall live. To be free of the countless wounds I count in vain. I wonder if my fondness for biking stems from a deep desire to run away. Run away from everyone in general, from no-one in particular. All I need is an escape to nowhere for nowhere is where my being is.
We eat. We walk. We explore.
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Spiderweb and Motorbreath find an Internet cafe and devour Facebook. I will refrain for the last thing I need today is to be reminded of a life I am willing to forget and to be reminded of the fact that I have already been forgotten.
I feel inconsequential. I feel pain.
I call home just to be reminded that I may still have some relevance to a few. I spend a quarter of an hour rattling out facts of my journey in a bid to justify my meagre existence. The brief connection brings me back to reality and science. My consciousness in the Universe will last only briefly. Perhaps far less than I count on. My escape from my consciousness is carved in stone. Death is not a transient phase in the context of my consciousness. It is a permanent fact. And to lose precious minutes contemplating on that which I cannot control, on those that I do not wish to control and on that and those that controlled me and used me as transient stepping stones into happier phases of their equally meagre existences, to lose that which I can never create, to lose that which I never did create, is a crime against consciousness - both, of my own and of the Universe. I have a responsibility towards the Universe - that of being happy or at least making a valiant effort at being happy.
Science tells me that the Universe does not care either way. It has given the gift that it needed to give and it is unconcerned of how I am to use it. But use it responsibly I will; for it is the only path that inspires in me the feeling of relevance. The desire to not let go. It is this desire that has brought me this far, for I can think no other reason why I have not laid down the gift at the alter several times before. It is my desire to find relevance, to be relevant; not to the Universe, but to the self. I can find no other justification for being alive today.
As we call it a night that night, I overhear Spiderweb promising Aman that he will rise at 6:00am. All I can do is smile as I close my eyes and sink into nothingness.
We resume the ride; but not for long for we bump into our lost comrades a furlong away.
Motorbreath and Aman, those that rode ahead whilst we were left behind; each looking furious - an emotion I believe to be misplaced for it would find a more hospitable and justifiable spot in Spiderweb's consciousness; for it was he who was left behind with a broken steed. They enquire accusingly as to our whereabouts stressing that they have wasted over an hour waiting for us. We argue that instead of riding ahead all the way to Drass without us in sight, had they awaited our arrival at Zozila, we probably would have been able to communicate to them that Spiderweb's steed now revved with a limp and a gasp. It would not hit the high notes until it was cared for. Aman nudges us to forget the discussion and continue riding to Kargil. I decline stating I would prefer to refuel my body before we stress on. Aman presses further stating they are all hungry and tired but we need to continue riding to gain ground. I think to myself, "Gain ground on whom or what? Surely we follow no one." I counter his argument stating that he could ride hungry and tired if he so wished. The state of my constitution did not permit me to do so. This was a vacation, not a test of my ability to torture myself and I will eat if I so please. Aman's tone turns a sarcastic, icy, blue as he lets out "Lo... mujhe to pata hi tha yeh hone walla hai" (I knew this would happen). At this point my nerves are beginning to get the better of me. Logic suggests that Aman is pushing us to press on due to his desire to catch up with the Pune regiment once more. Emotion suggests that if his desperation to be with them should have motivated him to leave with them from Srinagar. Logic suggests that he too had ridden with us the night before to Srinagar and it was inhuman to expect him to have woken up in time for the Puneris. Emotions suggest that his circumstances weren't my problem. We promised to ride with him to Srinagar to rendezvous with the Puneris and the Universe is witness to our staggering efforts. If the Puneris left without a care, there was certainly no reason for us to continue chasing them.
Chase them I won't; listen to my heart I will; give a fuck, I do.
And before Logic could formulate a response; Emotion has summoned Anger and Anger gives Aman a piece of my mind even as I storm off into a bakery to pick up cream buns and cups of chai for Spiderweb and me. I offer some to Motorbreath.
He declines informing me that Aman and he had only just finished with their own bingeing activity. It is a response that will trigger a burst of rage within my cranium for I now recall Aman's assertion that they were all hungry and tired. Lie he did of being tired for in their own admission, they waited for an hour. Lie he did on being hungry as well. For what I ask? My mind cannot contain the Anger as it screams murderous rage. This time round though, Motorbreath suffers my wrath as I accuse him of abandoning us an accusation that will last several minutes. Spiderweb stands on the sidelines, letting me do his dirty laundry. As sugar finds its way into my system, I temper down and the conversation takes a civil tone.
Drass is forgettable for it is minuscule; adorned only by a handful of housing structures of rock and wood. And yet, forget it we won't for the historical and geographical relevance of the land we stand on is frighteningly relevant. I do not experience Drass in all its glory for we must continue our journey.
I realize now that our bike chains need cleaning and lubing for they have definitely done more than their fair share of pulling and prodding for the day. As Motorbreath and I undertake to clean and lube each bike using our canisters, Spiderweb slips into a reverie of his own while we lose Aman to slumber as he drifts into nothingness; seated upright and without support on a desolate and dirty staircase.
We will lose Aman once more. This time to nature for, not many miles out of Drass, the sight of a stream grips Spiderweb, forcing him to ease into a causeless stop, one that is reciprocated my Motorbreath and I. Aman though, unmoved by nature's persistent displays, moves on. We blare our horns in a vain attempt to catch his eye, to pull him back. But his focus is forward. He will evade us until Kargil comes.
Technology aids our weary eyes as a lens zoom shows us that which we cannot see. Time gently rocks by as our hearts tune in to the soothing conversations between water and stone. They speak of everything in general, of nothing in particular and from the sound of it, of happiness, of freedom, of peace. It is an experience I wish to share with those that do not follow, and yet, incapable am I, for I am a human, cursed with speech, trapped in words, withdrawn from the simplicity and effectiveness of action. In the decades of buying into meaningless diction, I seem to have forgotten the efficacy of being, of doing, of demanding evidence for promises; for it is in the light of evidence, these promises would reveal themselves for what they were. Fucking lies.
We wander for what seems like hours and yet time seems irrelevant. The law of diminishing returns has no place in a timeless space. But we must move forward. Kargil awaits us. We reckon Kargil would be our destination for the day for the Universe will refuse to shed light on the paths to follow; at least not before another revolution.
And so, through tar and stone and settlements big and small, we push fowards.
.jpg)
.jpg)
-2.jpg)
.jpg)
Kargil. I sense change for green turns to brown, trees to stone, and warm welcomes to icy disregard. We find Aman's bike announcing his presence in the vicinity. He is busy calling home. Others follow suit. I wait for I have none to call.
As we begin our hunt for shelter, it dawns on me that we are not welcome in Kargil for all I perceive of its denizens is disgust and despair. We are refused accommodation in what seem to be empty lodges. We are told they are full. After several frustrating attempts and riding uphill and downhill on narrow, cluttered lanes, we find shade in a run down structure. A bed is all they have to offer along with a bathroom that must be shared with those on the same floor, 3 rooms in all.
Hungry once more, we decide to take a walk along the Kargil marketplace, hunting for food. In what seems to be a pattern, each restaurant we visit tells us there is no food available. Historical this land is. Tourist friendly it is not. We regret our decision to stay over. This is not the India I was out to find. It does not want me. I don't want it. One and only one restaurant lets us in with a promise of food. But they will serve one and only one dish - Rice and Chicken Curry. They have nothing else we are told. We gladly accept whatever they have to offer. Beggars can't be choosers and neither can tourists in Kargil.
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Evening dawns. I wish it hadn't for I feel cold. I feel lonely. I feel inconsequential. I feel pain. I feel anger. I feel anger at pain. I feel stupid. I feel broken. I feel ostracized. I feel confused. I feel suicidal. I feel pain. I feel pain. I feel pain.
Perhaps its the hostile environment. Or perhaps its memories of those that left me. One way or the other, this land makes me miserable. I would ride out tonight if I could just to be free of my misery; to be free of all that is and was me. To be free of memories that will haunt me for as long as I shall live. To be free of the countless wounds I count in vain. I wonder if my fondness for biking stems from a deep desire to run away. Run away from everyone in general, from no-one in particular. All I need is an escape to nowhere for nowhere is where my being is.
We eat. We walk. We explore.
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Spiderweb and Motorbreath find an Internet cafe and devour Facebook. I will refrain for the last thing I need today is to be reminded of a life I am willing to forget and to be reminded of the fact that I have already been forgotten.
I feel inconsequential. I feel pain.
I call home just to be reminded that I may still have some relevance to a few. I spend a quarter of an hour rattling out facts of my journey in a bid to justify my meagre existence. The brief connection brings me back to reality and science. My consciousness in the Universe will last only briefly. Perhaps far less than I count on. My escape from my consciousness is carved in stone. Death is not a transient phase in the context of my consciousness. It is a permanent fact. And to lose precious minutes contemplating on that which I cannot control, on those that I do not wish to control and on that and those that controlled me and used me as transient stepping stones into happier phases of their equally meagre existences, to lose that which I can never create, to lose that which I never did create, is a crime against consciousness - both, of my own and of the Universe. I have a responsibility towards the Universe - that of being happy or at least making a valiant effort at being happy.
Science tells me that the Universe does not care either way. It has given the gift that it needed to give and it is unconcerned of how I am to use it. But use it responsibly I will; for it is the only path that inspires in me the feeling of relevance. The desire to not let go. It is this desire that has brought me this far, for I can think no other reason why I have not laid down the gift at the alter several times before. It is my desire to find relevance, to be relevant; not to the Universe, but to the self. I can find no other justification for being alive today.
As we call it a night that night, I overhear Spiderweb promising Aman that he will rise at 6:00am. All I can do is smile as I close my eyes and sink into nothingness.
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