Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 41: Humps in Hundur

June 13, 2010

Low on fuel reserves, we opt to engage only three of our faithful steeds. The Passion emerges as the shining star amongst all today owing to its superior fuel efficiency. We reckon that in the dreary event of our failing to acquire fuel the day hence, one could ride the Passion to Leh and return with fuel reserves to support the rest. At least that seems possible.

Hundur, at a distance of 7kms from Diskit, owes its prominence to its sand dunes and Bactrian two humped camels and it is precisely them we set out to see. Our first visit is in vain for camel rides are scheduled for only a few hours a day and at the present time we are one hour away from the next scheduled line up. We turn back and find shelter in Cafe 125 located a stone's throw away from an army base camp. We will be served maggie continually though I must admit that with coriander leaves and spices added to the mix this would be the best maggie preparation I would sample across the entire expedition.

An hour on the clock and we return to the humps. However, on surveying them, we decide to give the ride a go for them camels seem well past their prime. We do not wish to burden them no more. RomeoMike's steed is ailing as well for she too has contracted a puncture. For now she stands unescorted in an isolated patch on the sand dunes. Given the lack of inhabitants, RomeoMike seems comfortable with the fact.

For the next several hours, we will pixellate the sand dunes, the humps and even some mules. The mules are of particular interest to Spiderweb, it would seem, for he spends an inordinate amount of time photographing them. RomeoMike will make cheeky comments to the effect that Spiderweb has finally found his likeness in them. The others will only giggle.

We return to the cafe and spend the remainder of the day sampling maggie, samosas, tea, coffee, mangola and anything else we can set eyes on. We will relish old Bollywood stereotypical flicks on Star Gold. Spiderweb, Motorbreath and I will pick up tracks that broadcast our achievement of scaling Khardung La - the world's highest motorable road. We will even pick up some underwear.

RomeoMike will dismember his wheel and return to Diskit with Drifter to fix the puncture. While we await their return, I strike up a conversation with an elderly gentlemen who looks upon us curiously. He introduces himself as a retired fighter jet pilot. He claims he is currently here on vacation and expresses his desire to ride like we do some day. He remarks that those who know him consider him to be too old to achieve such a feat. Despite their rants, he says, he intends to ride the peaks of Leh in the following year. He chooses the Pulsar 220 as his weapon of choice for he says it has superior handling. On being informed that I own an R-15, he quickly adds that he would have preferred it to the Pulsar, but his aging spine is not amenable to a cowling position. The conversation now turns to us. He asks us of our journey and our future path. I inform him of our fuel situation. He expresses his disappointment over the fact that they ride a diesel, for they have ample reserves. The conversation continues onto other subjects. He is met with some locals who apparently know him. He introduces me as a close friend and asks them if they could help us out with obtaining fuel. They seem ill at ease and decline at first. In due course though, they claim that they might be able to provide some assistance.  

As the former pilot prepares to leave, he expresses regret over his inability to help us out. He confesses that he believes he is letting us down. I retort that our unpreparedness was not his folly. It was ours and ours alone - and we bear the consequences. Furthermore, I add, the fact that he introduced us to the locals who had offered us some hope out of our quandary was perhaps a lot more than we had expected, for we had expected nothing.

Thirty minutes to the clock and the locals ask me to speak with the owner of the canteen. I do as instructed. I am asked how many litres I need. I count roughly a minimum 30 litres between all of us. He says he will arrange it for a compensation of 50 bucks a litre, 5 bucks less than the legit rate. I gladly accept. We are asked to bring in our steeds and wait on the approach road. In time, we are told, a truck would rendezvous with us and deliver the necessary fuel. We were to pay on delivery. We agree.

As RomeoMike returns and re-attaches the dismembered wheel, we return to Diskit to fetch our steeds. I go pillion with Vishal who will have me rolling with laughter for he claims that should his future wife ask to ride to Leh with him, he will prefer instead to show her photographs and ask her to be satisfied with it. He has not a iota of will to retrace his steps. He further claims that he understands that he now needs a more powerful bike and that on return, he will invest in a Passion Pro. Of course he jests.

We re-engage our steeds and ride back, hoping they will make the 7kms. On my way back I will offer a ride to a hitchhiker who as it turns out, is stoned out of his skull. He will scream "Wow" at every corner and eventually get off at a random spot and run downhill muttering similar Wows.

We must wait long for the fuel to arrive. Roughly an hour as it turns out. In the meantime, Spiderweb will pixellate while Motorbreath and I will twiddle our thumbs. RomeoMike and company will spend time in the cafe. As the fuel is delivered, we are told that we must tank up and return the vessel. In a bid to complete the illegitimate transaction at the earliest, we will empty the vessel into three steeds - Spiderweb's, Motorbreath's and mine. This, predictably, agitates RomeoMike for he believes he is running short on fuel as well. This time round, I promise him that I will ride with him even if it means detaching myself from my herd. Should he need fuel, he can draw some from mine. Understanding our fear and our decision to complete the transaction quickly, RomeoMike will settle down.

One more time we will commence our ride as six. We must once again scale the mighty Khardung La and find our way into the familiar embrace of Leh.

Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 40: Of fuel and fire

June 13, 2010

The dark was compassionate for the freeze refrained from gnawing at my bones. Slumber was an unwrinkled constant. We head back to Leh today. But before we do, we must refuel our steeds. They are as parched as the Sahara. Our inquiries reveal there is but a single pump situated near the main market which is where we head now. But the pump will serve only dismay for we are told there is not a drop of fuel available and that perhaps, there won't be any for another day. We are told that a large ration was expected to arrive this morning but an accident had caused the delivery vehicle to overturn. We are also told, that perhaps, what is more likely is that the fuel was sold in the black market somewhere along the way. It is a common practice, we are notified. Our journey has come to a grinding halt.

I remember Bade saab's advice. Head to the market should you be strapped for fuel. You will find black marketers offering fuel at 60 bucks a litre - as opposed to an authorized rate of 55 - a viable option in moments of crisis. But we are in for a rude awakening - for today, June 13, 2010 is a Sunday. The market stands closed. Black marketers and legit entrepreneurs alike are on recess. We have no choice but to spend the day in Diskit. Motorbreath and Spiderweb will take turns calling loved ones from a lone PCO. I will do no such thing.

As the clock ticks lazily, we linger around the market place hoping to find some respite from our fuel-lessness but do so in vain. Our only option is to head back to the lodge and ask the staff there if they can help us acquire fuel. We turn back, Spiderweb, Motorbreath and I, in that order.

As we are about to exit, I see a few army personnel lounging out of the corner of my eye. I brake. Motorbreath sees me halt in his rear view and brakes too. Spiderweb though will turn the bend and disappear into the distance. I strike up a conversation with the personnel, explaining our situation asking them if they could help us out. They direct me to a government office on the opposite side of the road, informing me that government officers had a monthly fuel quota and that perhaps they should be so considerate as to letting us have it, given our unique circumstances. I thank them and head to the office from whence I am directed to a senior officer's residence on the other side of the market. Motorbreath and I will make our way to the residence. We meet with the officer and explain our situation. In undertones, he suggests that we should perhaps see him after work hours. We can only assume that the deal we seek to make is not legit. We thank him and promise to return by 6pm.

As we exit, we are pleasantly surprised, for we run into the family three who, at the present time, are indulging in large doses of brunch. We join them. Drifter informs me that RomeoMike and Vishal had made a lone trip from Khalsar to Diskit on RomeoMike's steed with only the Passion's wheel where they found help to fix the puncture. They then returned to Khalsar and the three rode once more to Diskit. It bothers me that they did not simply ride to Diskit with the punctured tyre. I am told that their goal was to avoid further damage to the ailing pressure-less tube, for they could not procure another at the present time. RomeoMike invites us over to their guest house. On inspecting it, I realize its as comfortable as ours and costs half as much. We decide to shift quarters as well. I ask Motorbreath to return to our lodge and fetch Spiderweb. I can only assume that is where he is for there has been no sign of him since he rumbled on an hour ago.

As we wait for Spiderweb, RomeoMike recounts that they had befriended the mechanic who had led them to the lodge and been extremely hospitable - perhaps a lot more than humanity would demand. The hostess of the lodge shows me to my room. I unpack and we head back out. I notice Spiderweb walking in. He looks agitated.

"You guys are great! You guys great!", he chants

"What happened?", I ask.

"You guys randomly decide to stop anywhere; you don't honk, you don't flash!"

"We did honk, we did flash. You never looked. We even screamed out Spidey several times."

"I have been looking for you'll for one hour."

"How is that possible? Had you retraced your steps to the market, you would have found us. We never saw you return."

Our decibel levels are rising. Our hostess tries to pacify us, asking us to forget the whole thing. But the past few days, it has become increasingly difficult to ignore Spiderweb's convention of riding ahead instead of leading. I cringed at Motorbreath's breakdown at the hand's of Spiderweb at the onset of our trip, for I do not believe he slowed us down. He rode as fast as his steed would carry him. I cringed when Spiderweb abandoned the family three and me at Shayok. I cringed when he would not wait for them at Aghyam. Time and again I have given in to his desire to ride ahead, to get to the destination, with or without us. To be fair, there have indeed been times where he's waited on me. But for the most part, he has dispensed with his responsibility to lead in his desire to mark our destinations with treads he owns. And today, while it was clearly he who rode ahead, clearly he who failed to recognize that we ride with him no more, he accuses us? How dare he. I will not back down. I will not stand for this no more. And so, I re-engage him into the argument.     

"It's your fucking job as a lead to keep us in your fucking rear view. Your job! You don't ride without us in the rear view. If you don't see us, you fucking return! Why the fuck did you keep riding when you knew we aren't with you!"

"I rode all the way to Hundur and back TWICE looking for you guys!"

"How the fuck does that make any sense?! You know we have no fuel. Why the fuck would we ride 7 kms AHEAD with no fuel! And if you didn't see us once, why the fuck did you go back again!"


"You guys think you are heroes and do anything you want! Fuck do it then. Ride wherever you want!"


"We? We? You are accusing us?? We've spent the past one hour trying to find us some fuel. Trying to find a solution to a problem while YOU rode ahead and didn't bother looking back. YOU kept riding. YOU were stupid enough to ride to Hundur twice when all you needed to do was retrace your steps. YOU fucked up. And WE are to blame? Are you fucking kidding me?!!"


Decibels rise to unprecedented levels. I've had enough. I don't see him as my lead no more. I will ride alone if I have to. Why bother riding in a group when the group don't care. The rest will try and pacify us. In time we will settle down.

After another round of some much needed refreshments, we will decide to head to Hundur and spend the rest of our day there. But that's a whole other chapter.

Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 39: Fixtures & Fissures

June 12, 2010

We're in Khalsar. I know not what became of the family three - RomeoMike, Drifter and Ashwin. They probably follow at a dwindling pace. The path has been all but rosy, for Motorbreath too has contracted a puncture. So afraid was he of accusations of a sluggish pace at the hands of Spiderweb that, despite my warnings, he has kept up momentum well into the three digits at the risk of contracting a severe case of rim bending. Fortunately he hasn't. As we feast on a lunch of noodles and rice, we inquire around for a mechanic. There is none in the region, we are told. We might find help at the army base a kilometer out. A curious tourist family will inquire about our safety gear, our vocation, our vacation, our journey. They will invite us for dinner in Diskit - for they are headed that way too - but they will not leave an address. We did not intend to honour the invitation either, but the dynamics of the invitation amuse us nonetheless.

We head on out to the army base. Once again, I am pushed to the fore to negotiate for help. Once more we meet with resistance. One more time I will plead for aid. They will eventually allow one of us to enter. Motorbreath will navigate his steed into the camp and emerge a half hour later informing us that he has not one, but three punctures. With only one strip at hand, he will fix the largest one. With the rest, we can only hope for the best. As we are about to head out, Spiderweb will spot a familiar site on the hills above. Biru and his troupe navigate the curves. They've caught up with us. Delighted with the prospect of their company, we ride back towards the township for we know they are likely to halt for a meal. Our conjecture is bang on, for we find them taking solace in the very place we occupied not long ago. Once more there's jubilation on meeting the brethren. But we have more reason to rejoice, for following suit, not long after, are the family three. They made it - a swiftly I might add for our high speeds would have warranted a larger gain on them.

RomeoMike will inform me that the man under the walnut tree was indeed of help. For he possessed a foot pump that enabled them to reconstitute air pressure in the Passion's tyres. He was, though, unable to help them fix a puncture. But the little help went a long way for it enabled the family three to pick up pace and catch up with us.  

Vishal's steed will be inspected by one from Biru's troupe concluding that the tube is too worn out for repairs. It will need to be replaced. And while we all carry tubes, none carry sizes amenable to the Passion. Nonetheless, I recommend we head to the army base camp for help. They are less helpful this time round - for their mechanic will declare his inability to help without due inspection. 

RomeoMike, Drifter and Vishal will head directly to Diskit to look for a mechanic. Spiderweb, Motorbreath and I along with Biru and company will head to Panamik, Nubra. We bid adieu to the family three. Once more our steeds rumble. This time a lot more metal, a lot more clank.

Spiderweb assumes lead of the entire troupe but not for long - for a false turn on this part will force us to dive into a U-turn, allowing Biru to resume lead. Motorbreath and I will drag race for a few meters despite low fuel just to amuse ourselves. Motorbreath will emerge victorious for the R-15 performs abysmally on short streaks. Fortunately Motorbreath will not be so presumptuous as to say he is better than me. Eventually Spiderweb will fall back too and lead only us for he believes the group ahead rides in-cohesively. I can only assume that they expel him for they ride as one.  We will take a few pictures - but for the most part, I will be convinced that the beauty of Nubra is perhaps overrated. The Universe will not argue, for today, it shows me nothing astounding.

As we enter a micro settlement Motorbreath will halt. His steed has run into reserve - he might not be able to ride alongside us for long. This surprises us for Motorbreath's steed has a larger tank and we had hoped that in case of a crisis, we could draw from his tank. We now recall Motorbreath's spill and realize that he lost that which we banked on. Spiderweb will insist that Motorbreath leave his steed within the confines of the settlement and come pillion. Motorbreath will resist claiming he does not believe it to be a safe dwelling. Curious eyes from those around don't lend us any comfort. Unsurprisingly Spiderweb will push harder trying to convince Motorbreath to leave his steed behind. Motorbreath will instead choose to stay with his steed and meet us on our return. Eventually I will suggest that we keep riding for I am aware that those ahead of us carry spare fuel which we might avail off. We all agree and resume riding.

We don't see the Biru and company for many minutes. Eventually we will find the group's designated tail sitting on the sidelines with a look of exasperation. On inquiry, we are told, that the plan is to visit the hot water springs in the vicinity. However we've missed the bend to the springs about a kilometer from whence we came. The steed on the tail had stopped for directions for he sensed something was amiss, while his company had nudged on, not realizing they were missing a man. He joins us and we turn back. A kilometer out, we see a dirt track headed straight up with no indication as to its destination. We conjecture it must be the springs for we see concrete installations up top. As it turns out, our assumptions are on the money. We park our steeds and rest our backs. Hysterically we see the rest of the company, presumably realizing their folly, riding up and down the lanes several times over, missing the dirt track at every pass despite our attempts at attracting their attention. Eventually they will find their way up. After heated exchanges with the tail, we will all settle down and walk up flights of stairs to see the hot springs.

The hot springs are disappointing as well for the facility is rather small. It would appear that a lot of effort has gone into advertising Nubra for I don't see it living up to its promise. I know I must refrain from being cynical, but to think I've risked running out of fuel to reach this place, I had hoped for something more grandiose.

An elderly gentlemen will slip on the mossy terrain and plunge to the cemented floor. I will help him up for his offspring is much to young to rush to his aid. We will all take handkerchiefs, soak them in the hot spring water and wipe our skin with it. I am told it has healing properties like none other. I believe this to be untrue. After some pixellation, we will decide to call it a day.

Motorbreath will pull me into a corner and inquire if it would be advisable to excrete in a specific structure he points to. I look inside and realize that it's an under construction spa which will presumably draw water from the hot springs. I advise against excretion in such a splendid structure - which would be catastrophic to the generations to come - suggesting instead that we break en route and the shrubs and bushes may lay witness to his evil deeds.  We must ride back to Diskit now for the family three await us.

Biru and company though, have its own complications. For one of them refuses to ride. He claims night riding was never on the agenda and he will not be part of it. This, despite the fact that - given the dynamics of the time frame we are in - the night ride will last no more than 20 minutes. Sissy is all I can come up with in my bid to judge him for I do not believe one can pretend to be a princess when we ride like beasts. Biru indicates that we should move along. The company has no choice but to seek shelter in Nubra.

And so, Spiderweb, Motorbreath and I will throttle up once more - but not before Motorbreath will borrow a litre of fuel from one of the company. The ride to Diskit is laborious, perhaps more so because we continue to run the risk of taking out the stress of which is taking its toll on us. Tanking out in a hilly terrain with no humanity in sight and an ill-natured climate is an alarming proposition. We make no halts - with Spiderweb leading us through treacherous terrain for several hours. Eventually we will find Diskit and we will seek shelter in the first lodge we can find. It's relatively expensive, but we couldn't care less. We will look for the family three the morning next.

We dine, feast our eyes on inmates of the opposite sex, return to our quarters and tune out of the Universe...

Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 38: On deeds

June 12, 2010

With healthy tarmac beneath our wings, we blaze on. Vishal will continue to push the limits of his Passion although it can still only manage a little more than a crawl. Once again low fuel concerns persuade us to split as a group. This time round though, Drifter will stay with his pack. Once more RomeoMike will request us to find help in Aghyam and return to them with information, once again we will promise to do so, once again on reaching the destination, not only will Spiderweb hastily conclude that there is no help to be found here and that it is impossible to return to the family three with our fuel levels - the latter being true, but he will also be unwilling to wait for the pack to arrive. The split seems official now - they ride on their own.  Spiderweb waits for no one - a trait that will get increasingly pronounced in the days to come. 

And so, without ever setting eyes on the man under the Walnut tree, we power on. At an even pace my thoughts turn to the Universe once more...

How little have I known about the Universe. I have perhaps seen much less. For as we ride alongside summits with sizes I cannot fathom, I feel dwarfed in my own perception. The Universe speaks not - and, by its own admission, never has. But with each heartbeat, I can feel it babble with me. Words lose relevance for it's touch says all. I may interpret its touch in any way I wish - and each interpretation will be perhaps be just as accurate as the previous one. The Universe, a parent, who believes its offspring can do no wrong; a parent who will articulate whatever it is the offspring wishes to hear.

The wind caresses us, the pinnacles run alongside us. Gentle streams cleanse our path. Occasionally a pinnacle with block our trail, towering over us as we race into its embrace. I know it only toys with us, for in the last moment, it will shift sides and let us pass. I feel like an infant again, playing mindless games in the lap of the Universe.

I recognize now how naive I have been. For I have judged many on the words they utter. I have given in to I care without ever validating if it was backed by substance. It was not. I have given in to It was my intent to be fair..., without recognizing that intent is not a substitute for action. I have forgiven those with words for I believed words to be of value. And where the actions have hollered I care, I have failed to listen. Where the actions have hollered Take me with you, I have abandoned.  

I should perhaps be so wise to judge on deeds; I should perhaps be so wise to ignore utterances. For those that have expressed hate in words, have perhaps acted out of love. For those that have expressed love in pronouncements, have perhaps acted out of selfishness and a desire to misrepresent. No, not perhaps, for sure.

Drops of wet trickle down my face. No, I don't shed a tear. It's raining...

Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 37: Of banter and bridges

June 12, 2010

United in slumber, I see the rest resting. I've lost the will to sleep and decide to walk along the banks of the Shayok river. Much to my delight, a workman joins me. He explains that he is in-charge of labour. He speaks of his family; says he misses them ever so often. That which we see as beautiful, he expounds - the mountains, the rivers, the caverns, they see as inhospitable and evil. For it is their job to cut through the mountains and extract paths from the depths of the earth; it is there job to swim in the rivers in a bid to build bridges that carry us. The rivers, I am told, are usually unkind. What we see as lessons from the Universe - lessons in strength, lessons in perseverance, lessons in life they see as necessary evils that must be braved to feed their families. For it is not they who seek these lessons. They are mere cogs in a gigantic machinery that serves to protect. And yet, he says, he is not unhappy. Merely lonely. He says our curse was their blessing, for they now have someone from beyond to speak with, to share stories with, to hear their side of the tale. I'm told that the labour they hire, usually locals, is uncongenial - for BRO and the armed forces are viewed with caution. I'm told that it leaves the men in-charge with few they can trust, fewer they can talk to.

But enough about that, he gestures with a wave. He turns his attention to the bridge they build. The process, he explains, is similar to building with Lego blocks. Their challenge, it would seem, is to build support structures using locally available materials. In times of crisis, synthetic material is impossible to come by. Pebbles, rocks, stones, mud and grime are their best bet. He demonstrates how they intend to support the bridge using terminology I can barely comprehend; but I try. He declares the bridge to be 90% complete. They need only work on the approach road and a few support columns. Even now though, it can bear the combined weight of our two wheeled beasts. We circle around, walk back to my tent. He bids a warm adieu, informing me that breakfast should be ready in 15 minutes. I thank him for his hospitality. He thanks me, for my company. I return to my chair and sink into slumber once more.


We are awakened by Bade Saab asking us if we slept well. Breakfast is ready, we are told. I wash my feet even before he utters the command. We are treated to a sumptuous breakfast following which we idly pack our belongings. Spiderweb suggests that the family three leave ahead. We intend to get more sleep and catch up with them. In time though, we decide to give sleep a go and recommence our journey. We thank Bade Saab with all our heart. I wish I had something to offer him for his generosity. Unfortunately, we collectively have nothing of worth.

We are told that rocks and stones will continue to accompany us for 5 kilometers more following which we will be greeted by flawless tarmac. We are told that a man who lives under a walnut tree in Aghyam will aid us in fixing the puncture. I find the description amusing. As we hit the approach road to the bridge, workmen help us push our steeds onto the bridge over mounds of mud. Motorbreath's steed hits a nasty bump on the incline and he loses a fork seal as fork oil oozes out in bursts.

We hit the rocky road head on. As always the R-15 begins to trail, the discredit for which should perhaps rest with me. We do not expect to see the family three for many hours since its been a while since they left us. But see them we do; for they await us where the rocky road ends and the tarmac begins. It's gonna be a piece of cake from here on.

In an act of defiance, Vishal will unzip and piss along the boundaries of the rocky road.

It got the better of us - this road through Shayok.

Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 36: Of nightmares

June 12, 2010

It's past 12 now or so I guess. We've been sitting within the confines of the labour camp for a half hour now. A canine circles me with interest. I ignore him for I'm too exhausted to retaliate. What do we do now? Shall we walk forwards? The workmen advise against it for they fear we might encounter snow leopards that have been spotted in the vicinity from time to time. Their warnings only compound our anxiety for what we risk, RomeoMike and Vishal risk too. The workmen try to pacify us stating that perhaps the duo turned back. It would be only a few hours to sunrise, we could go looking for them in the morning, they suggested.

Out of options and taking heed from the more experienced workmen, we decided to head back to our settlement. The walk back is slow for we are muddled in our decision. Motorbreath was right. Our trek served no purpose but to fuck us up even more - mentally and physically.

We make many stops. One lasts longer than necessary for Motorbreath, Spiderweb and I sing to the tunes of Hotel California with eyes transfixed on the starlit sky. Motorbreath conjectures our fate should we encounter a snow leopard. Trust him to take a fucked up situation and imagine it getting worse.

As we lazily stroll into the camp, we see it buzzing with activity. A truck prepares for take off while bade saab points and pokes people into action. The headlights catch our silhouettes blinding us. From the beams emerges Drifter. I ask him as to what's going on. He informs us that we had been gone for more than a couple of hours. Bade saab worried as to our fate and had organized a search party for us. We felt guilty as shit, not realizing that we had caused so many so much concern. We apologize for our tardiness, assure him of our well being. We ask if he could send out the truck to fetch our comrades - but he resists saying the vehicle was ill equipped to travel beyond the labour camp at this ungodly hour. He assures us he will send out a search party at the crack of dawn - a few hours from now. We assure him that we would ride ahead on our own and find them. He nods, asks us to wash our feet, get some rest and prepare for dinner. We thank him and head to our tent.

Bade saab will insist we wash our feet before we have dinner. He will insist a dozen or so times, each time more assertively. We will assure him each time that no sooner can we move a limb we will wash our feet. Finally we will force ourselves to move limb and bone and wash our feet before Bade saab decides to throw us out of camp for insubordination.

We are brought dinner - piping hot rotis, daal and vegetables. Its in moments like these my heart reaches out to the Universe out of gratitude for its been a while since we ate something other than maggie and to be fed like kings in an isolated patch of mother earth by denizens who gain nothing from you is indeed a moment to be thankful for. My thoughts reach out to RomeoMike and Vishal once more. Here we are, in the comfort of a warm tent, with a stove that warms our feet, being fed till we can eat no more. I wonder where they are. I can only hope they are safe. I can only hope they aren't starving.

We agree to hit the sack early. Spiderweb and I agree to ride back on a single steed the next day to locate the duo. We must start 4 hours from now. As we get deeper into the night, the temperature drops many degrees. I find myself shivering and shaking. Our sheets serve little respite as icy cold winds make their way through the crevices. I will sink in and out of sleep for what seems like eternity.

As dawn breaks, I find Drifter waking me up and commanding me to leave for the hunt. I'm awake but muddled. Spiderweb is not doing any better for he has tossed and turned through the night as well, at one point playing with a torch light, shinning it on all our faces to see if anyone was awake for company. I had pretended to sleep for I was in no mood for mid-night conversations. But as the sun brought in some much needed heat, Spiderweb slipped into slumber - one that he refused to get out of. After several failed attempts at waking him up, Drifter and I are faced with a quandary. For we do not know how far the lost duo are. We do not know if they returned. I know for a fact that should I leave now with Drifter, Spiderweb will not await my return. Drifter is concerned about his mates as well and justifiably so. We decide that its best that he heads back on his own while I stay on with my herd. Drifter will not be in any immediate danger for trucks will make multiple trips from our settlement to the workman's camp so he could get help if and when he needed any.

I bid him adieu even as my conscience accuses me of treachery. I will regret this decision for many days to come. As Drifter leaves my sight, I slip into an uneasy slumber.

I'm awakened by a gentle voice - Alankar... Alankar...

My head explodes - "F UCK I'D RECOGNIZED THAT VOICE ANYWHERE! IT'S ROMEOMIKE. THEY F UCKING MADE IT! THEY F UCKING MADE IT!!"

"Where the fuck were you guys?", I scream.
 "We slept in a road roller", RomeoMike says.
"But the workman's camp was a 100 meters away! Just round the bend!", I yell.
"I know that now", RomeoMike says with a wry smile.

It so transpired that RomeoMike and Vishal had made it to the Road Roller a fraction before sunset. RomeoMike, an avid trekker, decided that it would be best if they took shelter in the machine for it would protect them from snakes and any nocturnal beings that might come their way. And so, the duo squeezed into a one seater bulldozer, drank water acquired from the stream, ate a candy bar for dinner and fell asleep only to realize the morning after, how close they were to a camp and a warm bed. RomeoMike mentioned that they had received our message from a sleeping workman, who, on hearing their voices jolted out of sleep screaming "Aapke dost aage gaye! Aapke dost aage gaye!" ("You're friends went ahead! Your friends went ahead!").  We related our side of the story. RomeoMike expressed disappointment over the fact that none of us came looking for them and even though we did make an attempt to reach out to them, I'm convinced we did not do enough...

With stories exchanged, the duo grab spots on the bed and slip into slumber. I, relieved, sink into oblivion while seated on a wooden chair.

Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 35: Of disasters

June 11, 2010

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?