Chapter 11_A Zuluk Nightmare

Chapter 11

A Zuluk Nightmare

It was a moment of mixed feelings. We were thrilled that we had finally reached Nathu La; at the same time, it was disappointing to know that we wouldn’t be able to explore the place. Before the disappointment spread across our minds, our number plates caught the attention of some of the jawans there. A couple of them then enquired about our trip. They then discussed among themselves and decided that we could have a quick tour of Nathu La. And not just that, we were given a special privilege as well!

For a normal tourist, the rest of the way to the border (between India and China) was to be covered by foot, climbing up a pretty long staircase. We being the only people there at that time, were granted the privilege to ride right up to the border. Yes, 20-30 meters from where we later parked our bikes, it was Chinese land. An officer accompanied us as well; he sat pillion with Khan and came to the border. There were two gates at the border – one Indian and the other Chinese (obviously). There’s a small gap of about 2 feet between the two gates, which I assume is ‘no man’s land’. Armed officers stood guard on both sides. We were warned not to capture any photos or videos there. Apparently, if we dared click any photographs there, our phones would be confiscated at a check post downhill.

Selfie at Nathu La (the only point where photography is allowed) …

There were two grand buildings, one each on both sides. The officer who accompanied us took us to the Indian building. It had a small museum and a conference room where officials of both the countries would meet. The room was kept so ready that one could imagine Mr. Modi and Mr. Jinping walking in and having a meeting right away. Outside the building, our national flag fluttered in the breeze. On the other side, the Chinese national flag too fluttered in the same breeze. Chinese security men were running around in a playful mood and I wondered whether they were playing hide and seek. There didn’t seem to be much of a tension at this border, unlike the experience I had in Wagah border during the Punjab trip. The best memory from Nathu La is that of an Indian soldier clicking photographs for Chinese soldiers who were posing in a cheerful manner.

A couple of army men engaged in conversations with us and they were curious to know about our trip. One of them, who was from Bihar, suggested we plan a trip to Bihar some time later. We clicked a few pictures at the ‘Nathu La’ milestone. It was freezing cold by then. Khan’s vehicle measured the temperature of its engine to be 8 degrees, which meant that the actual temperature around us was 4 degrees or less than that. The soldiers advised that we leave immediately or our bodies may not be able to stand the weather. We left the place with hearts full of respect and gratitude for the army men – both for giving us a special consideration and for doing their duty in such harsh weather conditions.

The army personnel at the check post told us that we had around 30 kilometers to Zuluk. We had to reach there before sunset, for 1, the route had to be enjoyed in daylight; 2, it was risky to ride this route after sunset. A few kilometers from Nathu La, we stopped to admire the beauty of Sarathang Lake. It was getting misty and visibility was very low. Soon the sun started to pack its bag. We hurried towards Zuluk. We didn’t stop at Baba Harbhajan Singh Temple or Nathang Valley on the way. In fact, I hadn’t recognized the valley as Nathang or even the place as a valley. It was in a later conversation that I got to know that that beautiful place was the much heard of Nathang valley.

Thorappan clicking a photo of ours with Sarathang Lake in the background… 

******

Out of Curiosity...

‘Baba Harbhajan Singh Mandir’ has been built in honour of Captain ‘Baba’ Harbhajan Singh, who was a soldier in the Indian army. Also known as the ‘Hero of Nathu La’, he was accorded the status of saint by believers, who refer to him as ‘baba’. It is believed that his spirit protects the soldiers serving in the rough terrains of the Eastern Himalayas.
According to legend, Singh drowned in a glacier while leading a column of mules carrying supplies to a remote outpost. His remains were found after a three-day search. His body was subsequently cremated with full military honors. The legend further claims that the late Singh helped the search party find his body. Some Indian soldiers believe that in the event of a war between  India and China, Baba would warn the Indian soldiers of an impending attack at least three days in advance. During flag meetings between the two nations at Nathu La, the Chinese set a chair aside to honour him. (Reference: Wikipedia)

 ******

At one point, we got a wonderful sight of the zig-zag road winding down the mountain. We were on the Old Silk Route. Thorappan was capturing the scenes on his phone when it slipped from his hands, bounced on the road and almost fell off the cliff. Defying the laws of gravity, it rested itself on a couple of blades of grass overlooking the valley; in other words, it was almost hanging in the air. A small disturbance, and Thorppan’s ‘One Plus’ would be a memory. A surgical strike was planned. Khan lay flat on the road while Thorappan held on to his legs. Khan then stretched his arms and carefully got hold of the phone. All this happened while I was attending to nature’s call!

The zig-zag roads of the ‘Old Silk Route’…

There were hardly any vehicles or people on the road – other than the army vehicles and their camps. Each camp belonged to a different division –  like the Black Cats, the Eagles and so on. After about 20 kilometers from Nathu La, we got to know that we had another 25 kilometers more to Zuluk. It wasn’t that good a news, there was hardly any daylight and it had started drizzling as well.

Misty roads…

Jawans at a check post enquiring about our trip…

Many a times we lost Thorappan far behind and Khan and I would wait for him to catch up with us. He was taking it slow, both to enjoy the scenic route as well as to avoid a bumpy ride on the mountain roads. While descending the zig-zag roads, all three of us would be at different levels of the mountain and it was a sight to behold from the top as well as the bottom levels.

A breathtaking view on the way to Zuluk…

After what felt like a long ride, we reached the town of Zuluk. It was a dimly lit place and we passed by a few houses for a couple of hundred meters and then there were no more of them. Of course, Zuluk couldn’t be so small a town and we kept going ahead in the hope of seeing more houses and homestays. However, we were mistaken; this we realized only after covering another one or two kilometers. We had crossed Zuluk and we had no idea where we were now. It was pouring down heavily. There was no GPS signal; we had no clue where or how far the next town was. The road went winding down, endlessly. It was pitch-black and the only light was from our vehicles. From the little that we could see, it was thick forest on either side of the road. Perhaps, we should have turned back on realizing that we had crossed Zuluk. We had crossed the limit; this wasn’t adventure anymore. One of the scariest moments ever in my life, I had a panic attack!

(to be continued…)

Chapter 10_Sikkim (F)east

Chapter 10

Sikkim (F)east

We woke up to a breaking news from Mahesh: “I don’t think I can go up any further. You guys carry on…” Thorappan and Khan were startled. It was not much of a surprise for me though. Mahesh’s body weakens with every falling degree of temperature. Back in 2015, during our Punjab trip, we (Mahesh and I) had to drop our Shimla plan in a similar situation. Why then did we plan Sikkim, if we knew this before? Well, more than the destination, it was the ride that mattered to us. Besides, we hoped for a little surprise from our Mahesham, who was known for it.

We didn’t compel him much, one – he was weak, two – he is an adamant fellow. We made an amendment to our already reworked itinerary. We extended the booking at the Gangtok hotel for another day, but just one room instead of two. We neatly arranged our stuff and Mahesham in this room. We were to ride to Nathu La, visiting Tsongmo Lake on the way, roll down the old Silk Route and halt at Zuluk for the day. The next day we would be back in Gangtok again. Therefore, we just packed the items that were necessary for the day and left the rest of our things in the hotel itself. We left the hotel at around 7:15 AM. Mahesh came down to the parking to see us off; jokes apart, we felt handicapped riding without him.

The view from the Gangtok hotel…

Thorappan left a couple of minutes ahead of Khan and me. He had to meet Mr. John and get the permits for the day. Since we had altered our plan after our roller-coaster ride in Kolkata, the permits had to be changed accordingly. Khan and I filled up fuel and waited for Thorappan. Khan then suggested that we ride downhill and click a few photos at a waterfall we had seen yesterday on our way to the hotel. It was just a kilometer away from where we were. Besides, Thorappan would anyways be coming back that way as well. On reaching the first waterfall, we realized that the one that we had in mind was a little ahead of this one. So we rode further down and reached the next one. It wasn’t this one either; we rode further ahead and reached the third waterfall. I would have dropped the idea altogether if it wasn’t this one either; but yes, this was the waterfall that we had in mind. You should also infer from this that Sikkim is a land of waterfalls. As we clicked a few photos, Thorappan joined us, and then we clicked a lot more of them. Thorappan too filled his tank; he stocked a few liters in his jerry cans as well.

A click at the third waterfall…

It was drizzling and the weather forecast wasn’t much promising either. But we had quite equipped ourselves for the rains – covered completely from head to toe. Mahesham’s sick leave meant that I got an extra set of rain coats and shoe covers, which proved really helpful. After a few kilometers, we reached the first check post – the third mile check post. There was a long line of white coloured cars (taxis) waiting for the ‘check’ at the post. We exercised our ‘privilege’ (the one that bikers get in any traffic jam) and made our way to the head of the line, where a few other bikers too were getting their documents verified. One of them, a YouTube vlogger, was in the third month of his cross-country (India-Bhutan) tour.

Third Mile Check Post

After the verification, we resumed the ride. We bought chocolates from one of the vendors at the check post. Perks worth Rs. 10 were sold to us for Rs. 20. Given the weather conditions, we didn’t complain either. A few kilometers from the check post, we stopped for breakfast. It was a small shop on the roadside, in a little village. The place was green all around and little houses sprouted out here and there. It was such a satisfying sight for the eyes. 

Inside the shop, we witnessed a Hollywoodish scene. A man, perhaps in his sixties was enjoying a bottle of beer with his friend. He wore a shirt, tucked into a pair of trousers, and had a hat on his head. He reminded me of ‘cowboy’ characters from some of the English movies. They didn’t talk anything. They just sat simply and took joyful sips from their beer mugs. Thorappan couldn’t but envy the presumed ‘bliss’ of those men.

We ordered tea and maggi. The shop was managed by a middle-aged couple. Besides food, they sold a few other stuff such as jackets, monkey caps, gloves, sweets, snacks, cigarettes and liquor. Liquor bottles were neatly arranged in a glass shelf, like how shampoos and other cosmetics are displayed in departmental stores. At the door, there lay a dog with a lot of fur; some visitors fed it with Parle-G.

Liquor on display at the shop…

Maggi never ever tasted so good in our lives. It was soupy and spicy. Cold rainy mornings were perhaps the best time to slurp hot maggi. We bought a few more perks from the shop. We weren’t charged extra though. Now this was a problem. The creature in my head started chattering: why did the lady at the check post charge extra then? For a moment my external self wished that we were charged extra here as well!

After a fulfilling breakfast, we continued our journey. Green lorries of the army would pass by every now and then. There were army camps every few kilometers. The roads, managed by the ‘Border Roads Organization’, were mostly in good condition. Yet, we had to be very careful. Rain and mist made visibility very low. There were landslide debris and water crossings once in a while. We progressed slowly, as a pack. Soon we got to see the Himalayas at close proximity. We stopped to enjoy the beauty. The mountains were enormous. I sat and tried to fit some of them into a single frame of my vision. Sitting in front of them, I felt myself to be a tiny little dot. It was a glorious sight and an even greater feeling.

Road filled with debris and sludge…

Imbibing the beauty of the Himalayas…

After about an hour and a half, we reached Tsongmo lake. Most of the taxis from Third Mile were already there and the place was abuzz with tourists and vendors. It was a small glacial lake, with huge mountains in the background. The water had a peculiar green colour and it was a serene place. It all depended on the mood of the air, whether you could enjoy the beauty of the lake or not. For, all of a sudden, a curtain of mist would be drawn across the lake and then we would have to wait patiently for the curtains to be drawn, to see it again. Yak safaris were on offer along the lake. Oh, that was the first time I was seeing a yak in my life.

A panoramic view of Tsongmo Lake

Thorappan positioned his mobile on a small cliff, with the timer on, and ran back to us to click selfies with Tsongmo in the background. There was a restaurant and cable car safari near the lake. We had to climb up a few steps to reach the restaurant and the ticket counter for the cable car ride. I struggled to breathe as I ascended the steps; my body wasn’t quite adjusting to the altitude. Thorappan and Khan were okay though. We rolled the prayer wheels on the sides, as we climbed up the steps.

One of Thorappan’s adventurous clicks from Tsongmo…

The prayer wheels at Tsongmo…

The rope car, the highest in Asia, took us to a height of 14,500 feet. It dropped us there and we were free to roam around for as long as we wanted, before we took another car downhill. The sight from the top was majestic, with huge mountains spreading out in front of us. One of them was supposedly the mighty Kanchenjunga, though we couldn’t identify it. Thorappan and Khan ventured higher up and soon disappeared. I decided to stay back as I struggled to breathe after taking every few steps. I sat down and imbibed the beauty around me. The vegetation was very colourful – green, yellow, red and so on. I soon got high on nature!

Colourful vegetation

Thorappan and Khan came back to tell me how they had got a terrific view of the lake from the top. They clicked a few good pictures as well. We took the car back down. A fellow rider, an army officer on vacation, tried to capture much of the ride on his mobile; all that got recorded on his camera was the mist though.

When Khan and Thorappan explored the heights…

After the cable car adventure, we went to the restaurant for an early lunch. We weren’t quite sure whether the rest of the ride had food options enroute. Like at the breakfast place, there was a friendly canine here as well. We had hot maggi and tea at the restaurant. The price got higher with every passing spot.

After our quick lunch, we headed towards Nathu La. Most of the taxis had disappeared by the time we left Tsongmo. I sensed that we were getting late. It was just another 18 kilometers to Nathu La, but it would take us around 70 minutes to get there. That’s the thing about mountain roads; at times you even feel disappointed to realize that you hadn’t covered much distance in so long a time. Waterfalls, water crossings, debris, sludge, wooden bridges, army camps, greenery and the Himalayas made the rest of ride to Nathu La quite adventurous. 

Crossing a wooden bridge…

At around 2:30, we reached a point from where we had to make a small deviation towards Nathu La. Our permits were verified there and we were given the green signal to go ahead. It was a two kilometer steep and winding climb upwards and at the end of it, there we were – at Nathu La. It was freezing cold up there. There was a small army camp there. A few soldiers were picking up litter, probably left by the tourists. We couldn’t see any civilians there. The soldiers then informed us that the place was closed for the day and we would have to come back the next day!

(to be continued…)

Chapter 9_Nye-mae-el

Chapter 9

Nye-mae-el

It was a nice little hotel, managed by a girl of our age and her little brother studying in class 5. They too stayed in the same building; basically it was a house extended into a hotel – the ground floor rented, the first floor occupied by the family and the top one OYOed. They provided us home-made food as well, for dinner – roti, dal and omlettee.

After settling down in our rooms, we took bath and embraced the beds. We ordered burgers for our late lunch; Khan and Mahesh had been half way into their sleep when the food arrived. We woke up for dinner at around 8, ate and went back to sleep. We had to make up for a night’s sleep that we had sacrificed on the road.

******

Out of Curiosity…

 On 22^nd May, 1975, Sikkim became India’s 22^nd state; before that it was an independent mountain kingdom. Sikkim is a landlocked state bordered by Nepal on the west, Tibet in the north and north-east, Bhutan in the east and West Bengal in the south. The Lepcha people, the original inhabitants of Sikkim, call it Nye-mae-el, meaning ‘paradise’. It is India’s first organic state (practicing organic farming).

******

We woke up late the next day. The bikes had to be lubed and we spent around half an hour on that. We had poori, sabji and chai for breakfast – home-made. We left the place at around 10:30 AM. As we were loading our bags onto the bikes, Thorappan told me that deedi had wanted to take a photo with my bike. She had particularly liked my bike, it seems. Now that was an honour, especially after the embarrassment in Kolkata (Chapter 5: The Comedy of Errors). During the rest of the loading, half my vision and the whole of my heart looked out for deedi, who unfortunately didn’t turn up.

We were all excited about our soon-to-begin meeting with the mountains. The initial few kilometers of road from Siliguri, passed through a stretch of lush green forest. And then suddenly I saw a mountain range at a distance in front of me. I was very excited and caught up with Mahesh to tell him that it was probably our first sight of the mighty Himalayas. We weren’t very sure about it though.

The lush green forest route in Siliguri…

We filled our tanks to the brim, in the next village, which was around 40 kilometers from Siliguri. We were on National Highway 10, the one that connected Siliguri to Gangtok. Segments of the road were under construction and this lead to traffic blocks once in a while. The Teesta river meandered alongside the road and it was a treat to our eyes. There were many bridges on the way and we crossed the river many-a-times on those bridges.

Teesta river meandering along NH10…

The roads were narrow in some places; at times it was covered by gravel and rocks due to landslides. The monsoons were performing their annual rituals. Besides the mini buses run by both the West Bengal and Sikkim governments, that plied between Siliguri and Gangtok, there were plenty of jeeps that connected different cities. Some of them had the board ‘Darjeeling’ and our hearts longed that we had enough days and a bigger plan for covering the ‘Queen of Hills’ as well. But no, Darjeeling will have to wait for a blog of its own. The 'SK' registered taxis, mostly Altos and Wagon Rs, interested us for the initial few kilometers from Siliguri. I hadn’t seen vehicles registered in Sikkim before that in my lifetime. After around 70 kilometers from Siliguri, we reached the gateway to Sikkim – Rangpo. The ‘Welcome to Sikkim’ board did give us the very same excitement and sense of satisfaction as that of the ‘Welcome to the City of Joy’ one; we didn’t wish for a similar roller-coaster ride though (Chapter 7: A Roller-Coaster Ride).

NH 10…

A tunnel enroute Gangtok...

After a while, we stopped for tea and late lunch. It had drizzled along the way and we were already starting to feel the chillness of the height. We had soupy maggi and momos at the road side shop. Curious school kids gathered around our bikes. From where we sat and slurped maggi, we could see a two-storeyed house made out of wood and bamboo. A man sat on the balcony and took drags from his pipe. Mahesh envied the man’s state of peace and wished he too could live like that. I mulled over the possible hardships that this particular man could be facing in his life and how we in a matter of a few minutes had presumed that he was leading a peaceful life.

Bridges, bridges and more bridges…

Tough roads…

We booked rooms in Gangtok via Gobibo. Thorappan and Mahesh were particular about getting a room with a view. We continued our ride and soon entered the city of Gangtok. There was heavy traffic in the city and the ascending road made it even more difficult for us. My hands started aching due to prolonged engagement with the clutch and front brake levers. But what fascinated us was the discipline of the vehicles on the road – no overtaking and no honking, they just waited patiently in the traffic, one behind the other. Now that was indeed some ‘peace’ in life for the people of this city, if only they knew how horrible it was down in the plains.

"Welcome to Sikkim"

“Will be there soon…”

We reached the hotel at around 6:30 PM. It was a premium hotel with good facilities; luckily we had got it at a cheap price on Gobibo. The rooms didn’t have ACs or fans – of course, all one would wish for in this place were room heaters. We unloaded our luggage and went out again to get some quick service for our vehicles. Khan had noted a few service centers on the way, which he was quite sure were just a few kilometers from the hotel. After descending for about 15 kilometers, we inferred that Khan had hallucinated. Meanwhile, Thorappan had gone to meet Mr. John, our agent in Gangtok, who would get us the required permits and passes. After failing to find the service centers, we returned back to meet Thorappan and John. We lost each other on the way, but did re-join at the location shared by John. After collecting the permits, we headed back to the hotel. We had dinner on the way – chowmein and pork dry fry. The ride after dinner was fiery – the cold air pierced our skin. It must have been 9:30 PM or so, but the roads were empty. We inferred that Sikkim slept early. We hurried back to the hotel to earn a few extra hours of sleep, for we had the Nathu La and the Old Silk Route awaiting us the next day. Unfortunately, one of us wasn’t ready for the adventure.

(to be continued…)

Entering Gangtok …

Chapter 8_The Creature In My Head

Chapter 8

The Creature In My Head

They were a special security force and had a different sort of uniform. This is why we couldn’t recognize them from a distance, as police or security forces. They became very curious about us and enquired about our trip. One of them couldn’t believe that we rode all the way from Kerala. They went around our bikes, curious to know about the additional fittings. They then told us that it wasn’t safe to ride this late and asked us to stay for the night at Dumka. However, they cautioned us that the chances of getting a room in Dumka was less, as it was a festival season and most of the hotels would be filled with visitors.

We soon reached Dumka. The town was brightly lit with decoration lights. It was asleep though. It looked like a house where a wedding had taken place; after a hurry-burry day, when the festivities were over, but all those decorations remained. It was around 1:30 AM. We went into a petrol bunk. A guy came out of the small office room, rubbing his eyes. He had a smile on his face. While I filled my tank, Khan and Mahesh went room-hunting. I noticed a small cot lying in front of the office. “Ah, plan B is ready,” the miniature of me sitting inside my head whispered into my ears. (You all have those little creatures in your heads, don’t you? Conversations with them are more often the best.) Khan and Mahesh returned after a failed mission. We then together explored the streets of Dumka, desperately, for a room. The patrol police sympathized with us. They tried to help us by directing us to a few more hotels. Nah, Lady Fortune wasn’t in a good mood.

A car came by and the guy in it asked us to stop our vehicles. He enquired about us. When we told him that we were on a trip, he seemed excited. But then his speech was flowing like a stream. It was when he got out of the car and took a couple of steps that we confirmed that he was drunk. Sensing that it may not be wise to engage him further, we scooted. He followed us. We went back to the petrol bunk. The guy there came out, once again, with a sweet smile on his face. The other three filled their tanks. My plan B had been rejected and plan C was on – ride to the next town. The guy at the bunk told us that the next town was about 60-70 km away, in the next state. The drunken guy reached there. He started blabbering in Hindi. He switched to English once in a while. He was trying to tell me that he was a rider as well, an adventurous one. Apparently, he had been on many road trips and was planning an all-India tour on a Jawa motorcycle. He kept asking whether I approved him as an adventurous guy. I could see the petrol bunk guy sympathizing with me. Thorappan was giggling from a distance. I engaged our adventurous, drunk hero till all of them had filled their tanks to the brim.

Uncertainty is adventurous; but the little creature in your head will not give you a second of peace. “Where is the next town? Are there any hotels there? Would rooms be available there? How are the roads ahead?” It keeps shooting questions at you.

After about an hour, we entered Bihar and suddenly the roads became bad – terrible I should say. As we have seen over the past few days (and blogs), bad roads, dust and lorries are a deadly combination. We stopped at a roadside dhaba for tea. There were a couple of charpais there for us to relax ourselves. I do not know how to put it in words – that comfort you get when you get to lie down like that; even the creature in your head has its mouth shut and is at peace. There was a short man in this shop. He served us tea. We had two rounds of tea. Once in a while a lorry would stop in front of the shop; the driver would get down for a cup of tea.

The dhaba where we stopped for tea…

We tipped the short man as we left the place. He was a bit shabby, wearing a towel and a dirty banyan. He was short, very short and had grey hair; must be in his forties. As he took the tip from us, he had a smile on his face – a very innocent one. It filled our hearts, to the brim. We wouldn’t forget that smiling face for a while in our lives.

The ride ahead was very tough. We counted every kilometer. The creature inside my head started nibbling at my brain. We had no choice, but to ride on. There weren’t any hotels on the way. There were roadside dhabas though. Some of them had a few charpais in front of them. A plan D was evolving. We tried to push ourselves further. Finally, we decided that we should stop at a dhaba (locally known as line hotels) and rest for the night. But when we did stop, there was hardly any more of the night left. It was 4:30 AM. We had tea as we got out of our gears. After tea, we lay down on the charpais; we didn’t bother to ask the guy in the dhaba whether it was okay to sleep there. We assumed that it was fine; there wasn’t any other option either.

 Power nap at a line hotel…

I woke up suddenly. There was the road in front of me, across the road a vast field and the sun was rising above the horizon. Perhaps, one of the best scenes I woke up to in my life so far. It was around 6 AM. I woke up the others as well. We had to get going. This was supposed to be a power nap.

There was an old man in the dhaba. He was half blind. He too had been sleeping on one of the charpais. Two kids, perhaps the grandchildren of this man, were playing there. In fact, it was their chattering that woke me up. The boy was a naughty little one. He kept pestering the old man. A man came there on his bike. He had a chat with the old man. As he was leaving, the little boy wanted to go along with him. The old man grabbed him off the bike and put him on a charpai. The other guy escaped with his bike. The boy started throwing a tantrum. He snatched the old man’s towel and dragged it on the ground. Revenge it was. The poor old man had a tough time chasing the little one. This another man, apparently the father of the naughty boy and the son of the old man, came and scolded the kid. It felt odd, to just sit and watch those tender moments of a family, in an unknown town in a faraway place.

 The wake up frame…

We asked for tea, which never came. After about 20 minutes of waiting, we got a feeling that it was a signal for us to leave the place. (We do not know exactly why the tea didn’t come.) They didn’t charge us for the charpais, which was very strange as well. Nevertheless, we are indebted to that family for those two hours of much needed rest.

We left the place at 6:30 AM. The bad roads continued. The villages were waking up to the day. It got busier with every passing kilometer. Soon we reached another highway and thankfully the roads were good from then on. We stopped at a highway restaurant for breakfast. My palms were clammy and there was a layer of ‘dust and sweat mixture’ on my face. We had another 250 kilometers to Siliguri.

Most of the ride from breakfast to Siliguri was on auto-pilot mode. It is that mode in which a 100 different things keep going on in your head, but at the same time your sub-conscious mind is alert on the road. And then there are those moments when you are shaken awake from your day dream – like when I was over taking a lorry and there was a portion of a banana tree lying on the road and my mind couldn’t decide whether to ride over it or to evade it and we eventually rode over it and my back tire made some zig zag movements right in front of the lorry and I almost thought I had made it to the newspaper.

When the palm skin started peeling off after four days of ride…

It was a very hot day and we were very exhausted. Mahesh and I were feeling sleepy as well. We booked an OYO room in Siliguri, as we stopped for a drinks break.

At around 2:30 PM, we reached the hotel. This time OYO didn’t disappoint us. We got our rooms there. Almost 20 hours had gone by since we started our ride from Kolkata, of which around 17 were spent on the road. It was not an achievement. It was out of helplessness.

Nevertheless, we and the little creatures in our heads were very excited. We would soon be saying goodbye to the plains and embracing the mountains. Our two-year old dream was just another 120 kilometers away, high up in the mountains!  

(to be continued…)

Chapter 7_A Roller-Coaster Ride

Chapter 7

A Roller-Coaster Ride

Our hero from the last chapter, Khan, had been an amazingly cool guy so far. I had even wondered how one could be so calm and composed in the midst of all these confusions – forgetting to bring the documents, couriering it to a random hotel, trying to convince the others to go ahead with the original plan and so on. However, this time, along with the money he lost his cool as well. He was almost in tears. We tried to pacify him. We made him to contact his bank and block his account. He then rang up his uncle, who is a police officer in Kerala, and sought his help. His uncle suggested that we lodge a complaint with the local police. However, he said that the chances of getting the money back was very bleak. I rang up Sandeep ettan, my senior in college and currently an assistant manager in Federal Bank, and narrated the events to him. It surprised him as well that this guy had managed to loot our money even without the UPI PIN. Apparently, this was a new development in the ‘bank fraud’ sector! Sandeep ettan gave us a little hope when he said that it is possible that the bank would give us the money back (even though they may not be able to recover it from the other guy), as we hadn’t shared the password with him.

In a later conversation with Sandeep ettan, I had shared my concern of how we, despite our schooling and exposure to the digital world, had easily fallen into such a trap and how people who may not have had such an exposure were even more vulnerable. However, his response was thought provoking – “the irony is that, they are the least affected; they are extra careful, because they know that they could be pulled into trouble.” He had a point there.

******

Out of Curiosity…

Fake Customer Care Executives: It is quite natural that we all search on Google for ‘customer care numbers’ of various services (be it Blue Dart, Tez, Zomato, Airtel or EPFO). Beware! There are scamsters waiting for you out there. Of late, there have been several cases where fake customer care executives elicited information such as bank account details, debit/credit card numbers, UPI IDs and passwords etc. on the pretext of support and initiating refunds. Read more…

******

Sensing that something had gone wrong, the taxi drivers came towards us. We narrated the whole story to them. All they could do was sympathize with us. They gave us the directions to the nearest police station. We gave them a small gift as a token of gratitude for accommodating us and giving us company. We then headed towards the police station. Of all places in the world, we had a tough time finding the police station. After umpty number of re-routings, we finally reached ‘Hare Street’ police station. It was located a little away from the main road, on a small street. We parked our bikes on the main road itself; Khan and I went to the station. It was a red coloured building and was air-conditioned. Four police officers were seated behind a table in the first room. Each of them, heard out the petitioners, one at a time. We waited for our turn, which came after about 20 minutes. The officer who heard our story wasn’t surprised at all about it. Apparently, many such ‘bank fraud’ cases were reported every other day. He asked us to submit a written complaint. We came out of the station. There were a couple of road side shops there. We got a few A4 sheets, but the shops didn’t have pens. Of course, it was bound to be so. Inside my head, a video from a couple of days back was retrieved and played again. In that flashback video, I could see the past me packing my bag on the day before the trip. I could also see me giving a lecture to Mahesh on why it is essential to carry a pen and notebook on a trip. And now, we had a practical example here. I hadn’t brought the pen with me though! We borrowed a pen from a stranger and wrote the complaint.

 When we took shelter in the street shops… (Chapter 6)

Thanks to all those letter writing exercises from school, we didn’t have much of a difficulty in writing the complaint. Khan, quite a tall guy, was half bent as he kept the sheet on the seat of a scooter and wrote the complaint. “Kolkata, I’ll never forget our first meeting”, my mind said within. But the very same mind then quoted Mahesham – “road trips are like this”; what’s in it without such roller-coaster rides!

Again we had to wait for our turn to submit the complaint. Meanwhile, I observed the other people in the station. All of them had a long face, like Khan. The atmosphere was filled with grievances. I walked out of the room. A police jeep arrived. The officer parked the vehicle in front of the station, on the small lane itself. Now there was hardly any space for another four-wheeler to pass by. Soon a car came that way; the lady in it started yelling at the officer. Unlike the south police, he didn’t swear back. He moved the vehicle to the adjacent street and allowed the lady to pass by. However, after that he brought the vehicle back to its old position itself and blocked the entrance to the lane from both the ends with barricades. Moral of the story: you don’t mess with the police, be it the south or the north.

Another interesting thing about Kolkata is the way people park their vehicles.  Not even a centimeter is wasted, to the extent that all vehicles kiss each other – a light touch, soft enough to not leave a mark. “Skill, pure skill,” an astonished Mahesh had remarked.

Kolkata traffic…

If you are able to recall your school days, you might remember that your compositions (including letters) wouldn’t be approved by the teacher in your first attempt. Some changes had to be made – always. Even that is done intentionally, I assume – to prepare you for life. Yes, the police officer asked us to rewrite the letter with a few changes. Another stranger, another pen, another letter.

It was 5:30 PM by the time the letter was submitted. Our prayers were answered when the officer didn’t ask us to rewrite the letter a third time.

We were unanimous in our decision to leave Kolkata as soon as possible. We decided that we should keep ‘Dumka’ as our target and ride for as long as possible, at least till 10 PM. After tea, we took the alternate highway as suggested by the traffic police whom we met near Howrah Bridge. In about 70 kilometers, we had to take another highway. The roads were good, but as we progressed on the second highway, it became deserted. It was a narrow, single lane road and there were not many people or buildings out there. Once in a while, there would be a signboard which read ‘this is a highway’. My mind would reply, “thanks for the reaffirmation!” Our stomachs started murmuring; however, we couldn’t find any restaurants on the way. I started to panic after a while. It was 11 by the time we found a small restaurant in a little town on the way. The tawa roti and channa masala were too good; just that we had to gobble it up as the guys there were in a hurry to close the shop.

Adios Kolkata!

Outside the shop, we met a guy who enquired about our trip. Like the traffic policeman in Kolkata, he too was planning a trip to Kerala. He then told us that it would take us just another hour to reach Dumka. We had to cross a dam and a forest stretch before we reached Dumka. He warned us not to stop our vehicles in the forest area. I could already feel the rhythm of my heartbeat.

We crossed the dam. We were the only creatures on the road, besides the frogs that crossed it every now and then. We were almost done with the forest stretch as well, when suddenly, at a distance, we saw a jeep parked in the middle of the road. There were three men waiting for us, with guns in their hands.

(to be continued…)