Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 13: On Re-legion

June 2, 2010

I was born an agnostic, raised to be an atheist and found myself in anti-theism. I will not pretend otherwise, for I believe that the practice of pretense is vastly more disrespectful and perverse than consummate disrespect. As I stand at the shores of the immaculate Golden temple, I can't help but wonder if it would be disrespectful to accept it's embrace for I do not believe. But the tourer in me is quick to add that as an adventurer, and a storyteller, it is my moral obligation to explore and fathom. After all, I don't have to be a Punjabi to appreciate the glory of Punjab and I certainly don't have to be a practioner of religion to marvel at the extraordinary structure that owns the skyline before me. Besides, I do not feel it judging me; nor do I feel an animosity emanating from within its confines for a want of belief. It stands before me, steadfast in its resolve, as if to say, "I am what I am; think what you will of me, for I will think nothing of you." That's all the assurance I need.

Weary and thirsty, we drag our baggage to the temple's counter. We must remove our riding gear too. A curious question on our gear, and the gentleman at the counter stacks our luggage, handing us a metal token. Our shoes, we are told, must be deposited at a different counter, across the foyer. I can only presume that the segregation is based on religious convictions and hygiene considerations of the relative impurity of footwear. Specifically, our own footwear most certainly deserves segregation.

Edit - Aman's remark to the above: Nothing like that.. infact giving your time at the shoe counter is consider as Seva (help) and devotees sweep the ground where shoes are parked with their hand, the shoe dust too is considered pure. Segregation is just because all gurudwaras have a shoe counter, but all dont have a baggage counter, this one being a tourist place, has one.

We proceed to quench our thirst with hydrogen concoctions being offered in steel bowls. I take a second helping, followed by two more. We adorn ourselves in orange bandannas and walk towards the entrance. A small enclosure with flowing water cleanses our feet as we walk through it onto blistering marble flooring. And even though my soles of my feet scream in agony, I can't help but stare in awe. The Golden Temple is visual experience photographs can do no justice too. Its aura is overwhelming.

Cameras get whipped out and we get busy. As we make our way through the corridors, I notice devotees plunging buckets of water into a man-made water body within the enclosure and handing them over to what I presume are temple helpers. The helpers, in turn, pour the water onto the blistering marble. Gentle slopes in the architecture ensure that the water makes its way back into the water body as is soothes the surface. We take a peak into the water and find fishes, some white, most gold, listlessly, drifting in no direction in particular. Occasionally, they surface with mouths wide open gesturing us to feed their anatomy. Much to our delight, none are camera-shy.

As we get on to the causeway that leads to the main building of Sri Harmandir Sahib, a bulky sign reminds us that photography is not permitted within its confines. We tuck our cameras away as Aman gives us a background of the temple and its significance. I'm mesmerized by the structure for it seems to come alive as it breathes against the backdrop of a continuous recital of the Guru Granth Sahib. On a higher floor, an eclectic mix of devotees rest their senses. One in particular catches my attention for her eyes reveal a deep sense of anguish as she looks into the distance, perhaps ruminating on the source of her despair. In a bizarre way, I felt deeply connected to her; for as an individual who was once relegated to the confines of an extremely hostile environment, where opportunities for solace were few and the feeling of loneliness was acute, I have been where she rests now. It's a contradiction within in itself; of being lonely in a crowd.

And as we find our way up the stairs, my attentions turn on to myself. For I realize now that I have unfinished thoughts of my own; of an incomplete understanding of myself and of those that I once believed to be close to me... no... within me; of conclusions unconcluded; of hate for the anger within and anger for the hate within; of those that I have chosen to forget for all they remember of me now is that I have been forgotten. As a consumer of physics, I do not believe the Universe conspires against me. It's actions and reactions do not follow paths that are in any way aligned to teach me lessons, to test my mettle, to punish me of crimes committed in a previous life I have since forgotten. Indeed it thinks nothing of me. It follows then that the despair I experience could not be attributed to the actions of those outside of me – for they, just as the Universe, act in a manner that's optimized for their configurations. I believe they call it "their life". They owe me nothing – not one iota of honesty, not one iota of integrity, not one iota of the truth. I have believed and known this for as long as I can remember. What I failed to do was to conclude the obvious. That if I experience loathing for having being misled, for being lied to, for being taking for a ride I would rather not take; it must indeed be towards myself. Myself, for not having recognized their deceit, for having an unquestioning faith in their integrity, for having believed in their lifes, for letting myself being vulnerable to hurt and pain. And so to get rid of the pain and anguish, I must learn to forgive; not them for they are now inconsequential; but myself. I must forgive myself acts of temporary insanity; I must admit to myself that I am not perfect (its harder than it sounds I now believe) and I must allow myself to continue making mistakes for it is through risk, experimentation and excursions into unchartered territories, will I become of true master of the road through life. In summary, I must live as I ride, the two intertwined and inseparable.

Several heartbeats later, we make our way out of the temple. An enthusiastic gentleman insists on posing with us for photographs, one with the group and one with each of us individually. Amused, we grant him his wish. Handshakes, clicks, smiles and we are ready to re-kindle our patriotic spirit. We will now ride to Wagah.

Facebook update: Golden temple - Soul searched, mind blown! Off to woogie woogie wagah!
02 June at 16:36 via Text message

Divya Misra, Sujan Shetty, Tushar Jadhav and Satnam Singh Vohra like this.

Nitin Manore give pet bharke gaalis at 6 pm :D :Ddo take a video if possible.it's an amazing experience to be remembered later.
02 June at 16:39

Satnam Singh Vohra amritsari naan and kulche wid a huge glass of lassi and some paranthas wid chillis-- ahem ahem
02 June at 17:05

Rachit K yeah.. dont miss show at Wagah/Attari Border
02 June at 17:31

Tushar Jadhav bharat mata ki jai.......
02 June at 18:34

Sujan Shetty not bad u made it 5 day
02 June at 18:36

Siddhesh Kulkarni Gud 1 dude... so... on time ?
02 June at 19:49

Divya Misra Where now?
03 June at 11:54

Rachit K ‎^^ they are on their way to Srinagar from pathankot
03 June at 11:56

Section 2: The Journey > Chapter 12: Striking Gold

June 2, 2010

“We are just walking out the door.”
“Lies! Damned lies!”
“Arre Motor took time to wake up.”
“And you did not? If I remember correctly, and I do, you woke up last!”

Me to Aman, 
my conscience to me.

“The journey has just begun!”, exclaims Spiderweb, his sleep laden eyes incapable of masking his excitement. We now head towards Srinagar, or so goes the folklore. For Spiderweb and I have decided to take a detour - a decision that will ruffle many feathers. Just the day before, Google Maps patiently charted our course through Dhaula Kuan, on to the Ring road, straight to Azadpur, on to the NH1, to Panipat, to Ambala, to Ludhiana, to Jalandhar, to Amritsar and finally, to Pathakot. The astute are probably screaming at this page, reminding us that we could head to Pathankot directly from Jalandhar, as the crow flies. We will inform them that we are aware of this fact. But the Golden Temple, nestled in the heart of Amritsar, lures us into its aura. We must be in its presence. It is a calling; one that we dare not ignore.

But there are sacrifices to be made - for the biker troupe from Pune awaits our arrival in Srinagar. Our misdemeanor will disrupt their schedule, one that is bound by commitments to bread, butter and perhaps a portion of mayo on the side.  Satyen, the original conspiracist of the Leh dream and our tie to the civilized world, tries desperately to change one mind - for only one changed mind at either end would lead to an amicable compromise. They say the mind is fickle; they say it wrong.

Spiderweb and I will stick to our bastard plans. Bastard, for neither he, nor I, will take discredit for the evil.

Facebook update: Journey from Delhi starts now! Aman to join our troupe today!
02 June at 04:16 via Text message

We encounter an exhausted Aman. His social commitments kept him up late, our social misdemeanor of assuring him a timely start got him up early. 1am was our firm commitment. 4:16am was our irresolute start - one that would deprive Aman of the Zs. As we approach him at 5am, I silently pray he isn’t a connoisseur of violence, for if he is - now would be the most opportune moment for him to practice the art. A few hours into the day and he will have enough reason to pull out our guts and grease his chain with it.

Aman now leads us; for In a senseless act of cultural bias, we assume the Punjabi would know Punjab better than we. This, despite his blatant confession to the contrary for neither he has ever been to Punjab. He rides at a comfortable pace. I follow second. Spiderweb and Motorbreath seem to be at peace with each other as Spiderweb tails us… for now.

The ride today seems ordinary. We’ve been riding for more than a couple of hours I reckon. The road and its vehicular denizens haven’t posed any challenges. We’ve been largely ignored. Aman, overcome with exhaustion from a sleepless night, begins trailing. I fall back to stay with him, Spiderweb takes lead, Motorbreath comes in second. But before we can get too comfortable with our state of being,  Punjab hits us with all its verve, like the vivacious damsel that takes your breath away; a light bounce in her spirit, a buoyancy in her stride, a naughtiness in her smile. The abundance of gold in Punjab’s fields, the simplicity of its very being are intoxicating.

As we break for a quick chai, Aman offers us home made parathas. I clean them out. We spend several minutes looking skywards as fighter jets own the ether. The sight of a majestic machine tearing through the skies never gets old. Grain-laden trucks awaiting entry permissions witness our awe.

Facebook update: Punjab!!! 230km done today. Panipath, Ambala done. Headed to Ludhiana.
02 June at 07:23 via Text message

Leena Sabharwal oye paape !! stop by for patiala peg ji
02 June at 18:05

Leena Sabharwal are you alone ke there are other bandhus..
02 June at 18:08

Facebook update: Home made parathas, achaar, garam chai n fighter jets in the sky. Divine breakfast in Punjab :)
02 June at 07:42 via Text message

Sagar Raikar, Divya Misra, Rachit K and Saurabh Bhatia like this.

Honey Misra i want it :(
02 June at 09:46

Satyen Poojary Was this on the road by the bystanders or...?
02 June at 09:50

Satyen Poojary Was this on the road by the bystanders or...?
02 June at 09:51

Satyen Poojary Was this on the road by the bystanders or...?
02 June at 09:51

Alankar Misra On a city road by a civilian! Christ!!
02 June at 09:59

Alankar Misra Oh he was jus randomly doing it for his own amusement. Wasn't a show!
02 June at 09:59

Satyen Poojary He he he :) there will be more!
02 June at 09:59

-Rajni Taneja- I want it too:-(
Ur forgetting Lassiiiiiiii...
02 June at 10:54

Rachit K superb
02 June at 12:51

Shweta Nadkarni yummmmm....enjoy !!
02 June at 17:16

Sujan Shetty like
Rang De Basanti
02 June at 18:34

Mandar Bhandare enjoy enjoy have everythin you can lolz :P
02 June at 22:47

Dinesh Samtani Awesome is the word for it!!
03 June at 00:57

Facebook update: Sardarji balancing moving RX 100 n singing while standing on seat! Bless punjab :)
02 June at 09:38 via Text message

Saurabh Bhatia likes this.

Tushar Jadhav oye balle balle...
02 June at 10:03

Sagar Raikar oye aho aho.....
03 June at 00:47

Rohit Upadhyay Chak de fatte..gaad de khilli...subah jalandhar..shaam de dilli.
^^Hope i got it right :D :D
03 June at 09:45

As we break a second time, sleep gets the better of Aman. He befriends slumber while seated in a chair. I am to be impressed by his ability to snooze in precarious positions when, at one point in the trip, he trails off while sitting upright with no back rest to support him. We use this time to recharge our phones which, in our haste to do nothing in Delhi, we have neglected to do. As Aman awakens, it is now time to convince him to redirect to Amritsar for it is now that he is most vulnerable and completely at our mercy. Had we informed him of our deviousness a fraction of a day earlier,  it would have been the last we heard from him. Aman resists our attempts to digress but there’s little he can do. Ten minutes into an argument, he gives in and charts out the shortest route for us to get to our destination following discussions with informed confidants. We assure him that we will push our riding skills to the max to minimize the detour time in a bit to get to Srinagar in time to join the Pune troupe. 

Facebook update: Heading to golden temple n wagah border then to pathankot! Making the most of speed n time!
02 June at 10:12 via Text message
Tushar Jadhav likes this.

Ritesh Tiwari Shabash ! bike tour...?
02 June at 10:14

Alankar Misra Yes!!
02 June at 10:14

Satnam Singh Vohra God Bless n God Speed
02 June at 10:31

Tushar Jadhav ride safe dude, dont do much ripping.
02 June at 10:43

Rachit K lovely..!! am sure.. the heat must be killing u..!! its just a matter of sometime.. soon u will b chilling to death.. ;)
02 June at 15:08

Facebook update: Nussi! 80 odd kms from Amritsar. Total today: 400km!
02 June at 12:24 via Text message

Tushar Jadhav likes this.

Nitin Manore great.this is early now.spend the time fruitfully.
02 June at 12:32

We ride hard with straight stretches of road aiding our progress. As we enter Amritsar, we lose Aman to the traffic. We wait for him for what seems like eternity. A phone call, and we realize he is not behind, but before. The Punjabi really does do better in Punjab. We snake our way through the streets of Amritsar - a place bubbling with visual contradictions wrapped in the elegance of simplicity; a sense of calm, a purposeful peace. A well-meaning comment from me regarding the antiquity of the scape, perhaps ill-represented, strikes a wrong chord with Aman for he interprets it to be disrespectful. I make a mental note of being  more cautious of the words I choose. We ride for several minutes, asking for directions, finding our way into a mezzanine parking space near the temple. Pushing and shoving our steeds into place in the overpopulated space, we consider options with regard to our luggage. We are advised to carry our luggage with us and leave it at the counter of the temple. My tired hands can barely unhook the bungee chords. Spiderweb comes to my rescue. As we drag our now tired minds, bodies and souls out of the parking area, I feel an unfamiliar sense of peace come over me.

And just like that, we strike gold…

Facebook update: Golden temple, Amritsar :-)
02 June at 14:55 via Text message

Saurabh Bhatia likes this.

Veeral Joshi jo boleeeeeeeeeeeeeeee so nihaaaaaaal...
sasriyakaal
02 June at 15:01

Tushar Jadhav so thts 1st destination done.... . congratz
02 June at 15:10

Rachit K vow..! congrats.. Vaiye guru da khalsa.. Vaiye guru di fathey..!! enjoy the golden temple..!
02 June at 17:19

Dinesh Samtani Enjoy d golden moment!!!!!
02 June at 19:10

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.