Chapter 6_The City of Misery

Chapter 6

The City of Misery 

[In the last chapter I had dedicated a paragraph to Thorappan. This chapter, the whole of it, belongs to Khan. When you finish reading this one, let me know if you think he deserves more.]

It kept accelerating consistently – my heartbeat. Suspense is a strange feeling; it does funny things to you. I almost lost my balance while getting into my night pants. I was in a hurry. I rushed down to their room. The ambience was perfect – dim lights and chilly air. Mahesh smiled. “Parayeda koppe…” (Tell me koppe [a Malayalam slang word]), I retorted impatiently.

Khan had forgotten to take his license and vehicle documents. I don’t remember how my face responded to the news. I couldn’t believe it. These documents were the last thing one would forget on a bike trip. Khan explained himself. He had kept the documents in his duffle bag. However, at the 13^th hour he had a doubt whether he had kept his raincoat inside the bag. He had to unload some of the stuff from the bag to dig his hands deep in and check for the coat. To his delight, the raincoat was in there. But our King Khan forgot to keep the documents back in.

When we tried a few formations on the deserted AH45… (chapter 5)

Now what? Sikkim is very strict about the vehicle documents. Besides, we were to pass through multiple states and it would be a daring adventure to ride without the docs. Khan had a plan in his mind. He had asked his friends to courier the documents to Kolkata. To whom or which address? I too had the same question. He had picked up a random hotel in the center of the city and asked the guys to courier the documents to that hotel’s address. The Blue Dart express service would deliver the consignment the next day itself. Khan’s plan was to go and wait in front of the hotel for the courier guy.

I recalled a few events from the day. Khan had been getting very many phone calls during the day. He had told us that his colleagues were contacting him for some work related stuff. As we were nearing Decathlon Kolkata, I got a call from Unni (a mutual friend of Khan, Mahesh and me, who also works in the same company as of Khan). He had tried contacting Khan and as he wasn’t responding, had called me. He told me that he was at the courier office and wanted the address to which it was to be sent. “What address? Send what?” I had no clue of what Unni was talking about. Little did I know then about the drama that was happening in the background. Unni must have sensed that I was unaware of the issue, that he cut the call.

I could connect the dots now. So Khan had asked Unni to courier the documents to ‘Hotel Floatel’ in Kolkata. He had even considered getting it couriered straight to Gangtok; thank God he settled for Kolkata in the end. Now there was another issue. The RC book (a card) had a chip in it and therefore couldn’t be couriered as per regulations. Khan went to the extreme of getting a recommendation from the MD of his company and thankfully the documents were couriered to Kolkata from Mumbai. It would reach ‘Floatel’ the next day by noon.

Khan wanted the rest of us to go ahead with the original plan and leave Kolkata the next morning itself. He would collect the documents and catch up with us in Gangtok. Mahesh and I disapproved straightaway. There was no question of letting him ride alone. It was the matter of just half a day. We could do away with the ‘rest day’ in Gangtok; but we were riding together. Khan tried his best to convince us, but in vain.

Thorappan walked in with a few kilograms of biriyani, evenly balanced in his both hands. “Nee ithu vellathum arinjo mone?!” (Did you come to know about this?) I exclaimed. I didn’t get the expected ‘surprise look’ from him (pling!). Apparently he had been informed about it, just before he left for the biriyani quest. Nevertheless, Thorappan was also in agreement to our decision to ride together.

The biriyani was delicious. Each of the biriyani box had a treasure hidden at the bottom – a boiled potato!

We woke up at 6 the next day. Our bribe (we had bribed the watchman to park the bikes inside the hotel's compound) would expire around that time (as the manager of the hotel was expected to arrive around 6:30) and therefore we had to park our bikes outside the hotel’s compound. Khan left to ‘Floatel’ at around 11. The courier was supposed to reach there by 12 PM. Mahesh accompanied him. Thorappan and I rode towards Howrah Bridge. Thorappan had the Gopro on. The bridge was huge, with its frame towering above us. We could see gigantic vessels on one side, in the Hoogly river. We crossed the bridge at a slow pace. There were footpaths on both sides; besides pedestrians, there were vendors selling snacks. Yellow Ambassador taxis plied up and down. Thus riding on Howrah bridge was off the list.

The Howrah Bridge

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Out of Curiosity

Howrah Bridge is a cantilever bridge that spans over the Hooghly river. A cantilever bridge is built using cantilevers, which are structures that project horizontally into space, supported only on one end. The bridge does not have nuts and bolts and was built by riveting the whole structure.

The bridge was commissioned in 1943 and it links the two cities of Kolkata and Howrah. In 1965, it was renamed Rabindra Sethu, after Rabindranath Tagore.

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After crossing the bridge, we didn’t have anything to do in particular. Thorappan wanted to go another round, to get the video from another angle. After Howrah Bridge round 2, we decided to have tea. Google Ammachi asked us to take a left and we did so. Suddenly a traffic policeman stopped us and said something in an unknown language (Bengali obviously). He pointed towards something behind us at a distance. We turned back and saw a couple of cops standing in front of a traffic booth. We were signaled to go there. People around us were looking at us curiously. “Pettenna thonnunne… (looks like we are in trouble)”, I mumbled to Thorappan. We turned our bikes and went towards the traffic booth. A young officer was standing there; he had a well maintained physique and he wore sunglasses – basically he had an air of Bollywood. He spoke to us in English, informing us that two-wheelers weren’t allowed on that road. He enquired about our trip and told us that he had an admiration for riders. Thorappan and I were relieved. When we told him that we were from Kerala, he was excited. He was planning a year-end trip to ‘god’s own country’. Another officer too joined the conversation. They advised us not to take the main highway to Gangtok, as the roads were in bad condition; they gave us a few alternate options as well. When we told them that our fellow riders were waiting for us at ‘Floatel’ they gave us the directions to reach there. But we wanted to have tea before that. There was a parking lot beneath an over bridge and the cops asked us to park our bikes there and have tea from the nearby shops. However, we were a little hesitant to leave the bikes there with all the luggage on them. So we crossed the Howrah Bridge to look for tea shops on the other side. The day was getting hotter and we were already feeling tired. We ended up having cake and energy drinks from a roadside shop.

Crossing Howrah Bridge

We contacted Khan and Mahesh. They were waiting near Floatel. Khan had tipped the watchman of ‘Floatel’ and asked him to inform him when the courier guy arrived. They had then parked their bikes in a taxi stand and taken cover under trees. The taxi guys were giving them company. They even told them that they had seen a Pondicherry registered bike and another bike passing by in the morning. Apparently, we were the talk of the town (exaggeration alert!). Thorappan and I proceeded towards Floatel. We had to cross the Howrah Bridge again – round 4.

Floatel was apparently a floating hotel on the Hoogly river. Khan and Mahesh were camping a few meters ahead of it, near the Calcutta High Court. The taxi drivers arranged parking space for our bikes as well. One of the drivers’ face seemed very familiar to me. I had to rattle my brain for a few minutes to retrieve the video file (stored in my brain) that featured him. While riding towards Howrah Bridge in the morning, there had been a minor traffic jam at one point. A car was attempting to make a U-turn and the other vehicles didn’t seem to give it the time and space to do so. Then, a young man walked to the middle of the road, stopped the traffic from both the sides and allowed that car to turn and go. I had taken note of that man’s kind gesture. That kind, young man was the familiar-faced taxi driver. (A pat on the back for my brain.) Perhaps, this was when the other drivers had seen my Pondy registered bike as well. Besides taxi services, their major business was providing parking space for cars and guiding the parking. They seemed to earn a good deal of money out of it.

As we sat there waiting for the courier, it started drizzling. There were many street shops on the pavement, with make-shift tarpaulin roofs. We took shelter under them. The shops sold tea, pav bhaji and other local snacks. We had hot tea in mud cups – authentic Kolkata tea. Thorappan had four cups in a row. It felt good to experience the heritage Kolkata.

Our bikes parked in the taxi stand…

Meanwhile, we tried contacting Blue Dart. Their toll free number wasn’t reachable. The tracking system showed that the courier had reached a nearby Blue Dart office. We searched online for the contact number of that office and surprisingly found one. When we contacted on that number, a guy told us that the delivery had been already attempted once and since they weren’t able to contact Khan, they had returned it back to the office. We had to pay a fee of INR 3, for them to attempt delivery again (yes you read it right, three rupees). He then sent Khan an SMS with a link to a Google Form. It had Blue Dart’s logo at the top. He had to fill up the form and sent it back within a minute. The conversation with this guy went on for a long time - almost 30 minutes. Thorappan lost count of the number of teas he had. Khan seemed irritated. Khan then told us that the guy had asked for his Google Pay PIN. When Khan refused to share that, he asked for the ID, which Khan shared (as there was no apparent danger in sharing the ID). We felt something fishy though. Khan then got a call from another guy who told him that he was waiting in front of ‘Floatel’ with the courier. Khan went and collected it. This was when we realized that the guy whom we had contacted previously was a fraud.

A tea shop on the pavement

Khan’s phone beeped. There was a message. It said that the entire amount in his bank account, a sum of twelve thousand rupees, had been debited!

(to be continued…)

Chapter 5_The Comedy of Errors

Chapter 5

The Comedy of Errors

After a ‘puri-fied’ break, we woke up at 4:30 AM on day 4 and got ready for the next phase. The original plan was to ride to Dumka, Jharkhand, via Kolkata. There did exist a shorter route to Dumka; ‘Kolkata’ and ‘Howrah Bridge’ were the two magnets that pulled us into the longer route. However, based on the experiences from the first two days (and unfortunate nights) on road, we decided to halt in Kolkata (and not ride till Dumka on the same day). I had rolled out an intricate plan where the extra 150 kilometers could be adjusted over the ride days, without losing an exploration day in Sikkim.

We left the hotel at 7 AM and headed towards the Sun Temple at Konark. The route was a very scenic one, along the seashore, with pine forests on the other side. We regretted not having explored the route on the rest day. We stopped at a place to click some photographs and Khan identified the nearby resort to be the one where our very own DQ and Sunny Wayne stayed while in Puri (in the Malayalam movie ‘Neelakasham Pachakkadal Chuvanna Bhoomi’).

The route was a very scenic one, along the seashore…

We imbibed the beauty of the Sun Temple from the outside. We didn’t explore much there as we had a long day ahead of us, on road. Thorappan was delighted to see lime soda stalls near the temple. He had two glasses while the rest of us had one each; tea, lime soda and *censored* are Thorappan’s weakness’! From Konark we had around 50 kilometers on the State Highway. The roads were narrow, passing through busy little villages. One had to be very alert for gutters, humps, cows, goats, dogs and hoomans. We stopped at a road side restaurant for breakfast. We were the only customers there at that time. The food, which took a long time to be prepared (to the extent that our conversation went into the cliché mode of “has he gone to harvest the grains for the roti?!”), was really good and compensated for the long break we had to take.

Soon we were back on Asian Highway 45. Every passing milestone that showed lesser kilometers to Kolkata gave me a sense of ‘satisfaction’. There’s this signboard and milestone on the Perungulathur bypass (Chennai) which shows 1600 odd kilometers to Kolkata. During my college days in Chennai and random visits afterwards, I used to pass by this board and wonder how far a place Kolkata is and why anyone in Perungulathur would be interested in knowing how far Kolkata is by road. And now, here I was, a few kilometers away from Kolkata, riding the very same route.

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Out of Curiosity…

The Asian Highway Network (AH), also known as the Great Asian Highway, is a cooperative project among countries in Asia and Europe and the United Nations Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific (ESCAP). The project was initiated by the United Nations in 1959 with the aim of promoting the development of international road transport in the region.

AH 45 runs from Krishnagiri in Tamil Nadu to Kolkata in West Bengal, covering a distance of 1982 kilometers. It passes through Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Odisha and West Bengal.

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Khan and Mahesh were ‘gone with the wind’ on the highway. The road was wide enough to play whatever you like. The first 100 kilometers went like a weekend. We stopped for chai after 150. After another 100 we stopped for lunch. We were at the Orissa-West Bengal border. At the restaurant we met a couple who were on their honeymoon bike trip, returning from Puri on their Mahindra Mojo. They gave us a few tips on the roads to be taken after Kolkata – a forecast of the thunderstorms ahead.

We imbibed the beauty of the Sun Temple from the outside.

With just 200 kilometers of ride left and half a day in hand, we were in a very relaxed mood. The free roads prompted us to try a few formations and record videos. I found pleasure in video bombing Mahesh’s solo attempts.

Thorappan had a Gopro camera mounted on his helmet; most of the photos and videos of the trip were taken on this Gopro. Thorappan is a very patient fellow, I should say. Over the 16 days of the trip, he had recorded hundreds of videos for us. I dedicate this paragraph to Thorappan.

At around 5, we stopped at a roadside tea shop for yet another chai break. The retreating sun adorned the sky. The setting was so beautiful that my body twitched (a phenomenon which occurs mostly when I’m happy and relaxed; not sure whether it is universal). We had another 80 kilometers to ‘Decathlon Howrah’ where we had to buy a couple of gears. The store would close at 7 and we had to rush a little bit to reach there in time.

I waited outside the store, while the others went in to get the gears. A little boy and his father walked towards me. The kid went around the bikes curiously. He enquired about the ride and particularly about the specifications of the Dominar. And then he made this statement which broke my heart, “Himalayan, Duke and Dominar are okay, but how did you manage to bring this FZ all the way from Chennai.” (I haven’t yet revealed this (underestimation) bit of the conversation to my co-riders; of course Mahesham would have had a good time teasing me throughout the trip!). The father prompted the son to invite me to their house, which he instantly did and I politely refused.

The retreating sun adorned the sky.

We booked a room on Oyo and entered Kolkata. As we bid goodbye to AH 45 and entered the roads of Kolkata city, the scenario changed – the obvious city traffic and the unique traffic rules. Vehicles travelling in the same direction would have to enter different lanes at junctions and wait for signals for their respective lanes to proceed further – an interesting way to control the traffic. We soon lost each other in the traffic. I followed Google Ammachi and headed towards the hotel. Then there came this sign board which read, ‘WELCOME TO THE CITY OF JOY KOLKATA’, and it was a joyful sight indeed.

With less than a kilometer left to the hotel, I lost myself in the labyrinth of a residential area; even Google Ammachi was clueless. I managed to find the place with the help of the locals; Khan and Thorappan were already there, Mahesh yet to be traced.

…‘WELCOME TO THE CITY OF JOY KOLKATA’…

I released myself from the riding gears and walked towards the reception. I was sweating like a horse. To my utter dismay, the receptionist informed us that there were no rooms available. Apparently, there were some technical issues with the OYO app due to which they were unable to update the status on it. I lost it, completely. I rang up OYO and shouted at them. I was very exhausted after the city traffic and I vented my emotions on the unfortunate customer care executive at the other end of the line. Bang!!! There was a glass door in front of me, which my sensory organs failed to detect. The rest of the conversation was done with one hand on the phone and the other rubbing the forehead.

Mahesh arrived; he had lost his way and reached a market, from where he had a tough time getting his bike out. The call with OYO went on for almost an hour, much of the time listening to their advertisement, being on hold, as they connected me to their various departments. Finally, we were shifted to a premium hotel, at the same price, as compensation. It was about 8 kilometers away from the first hotel. We followed Google Ammachi and pushed ourselves ahead through the traffic. Thorappan and I were together; we lost the other two somewhere in the traffic. On reaching the ‘premium hotel’, we were informed that they had no connection with OYO at present and there had been no such booking. A cross verification made us to realize that we had entered the wrong location on Google; instead of OYO 30062, we had entered OYO 3062. It was one of those moments in life when you were confused whether to laugh or cry. We tried contacting Khan and Mahesh; the call didn’t connect. We set the new location on Google and proceeded towards OYO 30062, hoping that the guys would call us on reaching OYO 3062. At a particular junction, we saw Khan and Mahesh on the other side of the road, waiting for their signal. Before we could call out to them, both of us got green signals and crossed each other in the opposite directions. (Does this remind anyone of any particular movie?)

Thorappan and I followed Google Ammachi and reached the location of OYO 30062; there weren’t any hotels there! It was a residential area; yet another maze. We kept circling the same road again and again, hoping for Google Ammachi to change her mind or a hotel to sprout out from the earth. There were many people sitting on the pavements, in front of their apartments. They seemed to be out there for their daily dose of post-dinner social interaction (a practice I would appreciate, if my assumption is right!). Khan and Mahesh soon joined us (they had contacted us after reaching the other OYO – the one with a zero less). We sought the help of the locals, who spoke to the hotel guys (over phone) and directed us to the correct location. If you think we reached the right location after that, no, there were two OYO hotels two buildings apart, and yet again we reached the wrong one.

Thus after a ‘comedy of errors’, we were finally in our ‘premium’ rooms. The ‘premium’ guys wouldn’t allow us to park our vehicles inside their compound and we had to bribe the watchman to sneak the bikes in. It was around 11 PM already. There had been plans of meeting my bong friend Apramit, and also trying out the much heard of ‘aloo biriyani’ at 'Arsalan' near Howrah bridge. The eventful three hours after Decathlon, led us to drop the plan. But Thorappan wouldn’t give up so soon. He decided to go on his own to the biriyani shop and ‘take away’ some biriyani (three cheers to Thorappan’s undying spirit).

Khan and Mahesh got a room on the first floor while Thorappan and I got one on the second. Khan and Mahesh were engaged in a serious conversation when I went into their room to get some of my stuff. Mahesh told me that there was something important to be discussed. He asked me to leave the stuff in my room and get back for the ‘breaking news’. As I climbed upstairs, I got a feeling that something was terribly wrong. Little did I know that what I was about to hear would change the course of the whole trip itself!

(to be continued…)

Chapter 4_Puri-fied

Chapter 4

Puri-fied

We took the right to Puri – quite curious about the unusual 2-hour prediction for a mere 50 kilometers. We didn’t have to wait much long to quench our curiosity – every 100 or so meters there were a set of ten humps on the road. After a couple of kilometers, our backs started aching, and we had to resort to experimentations. Khan tried the ‘I don’t care’ approach where he would ride quite fast, as if the humps never existed. Thorappan implemented the ‘stand and deliver’ model where he would stand on the foot pegs and ride, whenever he came across the humps. I resorted to the ‘okay let’s be friends’ method where I would slow down and gently float over the humps. Mahesh attempted a unique technique where he would curse the humps and ride over them (I guess he was hoping they would sink beneath the ground on hearing his curses!).

After about some 90 minutes of road research, we reached the entrance to the city. The roads were deserted, but brightly lit. We had a photo session there and then proceeded to the Oyo room we had booked. ‘We reached the room, unloaded our bags, did our avalokanam and slept’ would have been a nice ending for the long day. But no, the hotel guys messed it up. They refused to accept our booking, citing some technical issues and asked us to get the very same room at a higher price, without involving Oyo. After about 20 minutes of negotiation, we decided that we shouldn’t give in for such fraudulence. After all, as our Mahesham said, ‘road trips are like this’. So we booked another room on Oyo and proceeded towards it. The receptionist at this place was fast asleep and we tried all means to wake him up, but in vain. The main gate, which was locked, and the reception had a distance of about 50 meters and there was no way he could hear us. The contact numbers (both displayed in front of the hotel and the one provided by Oyo) didn’t work either; obviously. I contacted Oyo and explained the situation. I had a query as well, “can we jump the gate and wake up the receptionist?” The reply was quite interesting – “sir, I understand that you have been travelling and you must be very tired. Please do what may be required of the situation” (in other words, “please jump the gate!”). Thus we went in, woke up the guy, checked in and went to sleep? Nope. The check-in process took us around 20 minutes and the guy refused to give us the room key (to unload our bags) until the process was over. Those twenty minutes were more dreadful than the time we spent on the Rajamundry or Visakhapatnam bypasses. Finally, we were in our rooms and I unloaded my bag into a small wall cupboard in the room. Down came the cupboard!

After about some 90 minutes of road research, we reached the entrance to the city.

After sorting out the mess in the room, we went out in search of food. At 2 AM, the options were plenty; obviously! We rode to the railway station, hoping that there would be a food stall inside. Nope, there was none open. There were a couple of chaiwaalas outside the station and we happily filled our stomachs with chai and biscuits. Thus another day on road, yet another tiring but adventurous one, came to an end. But that’s okay, tomorrow is a rest day! Puri it is – music, waves and …!

The rest day started off late. The day’s priority was to get the bikes serviced and so we went hopping from RE to Bajaj to KTM. Khan’s Himalayan was unlucky as the required spare parts weren’t available at the Royal Enfield service center. The news of a 2019 model Dominar hadn’t yet reached Puri Bajaj and we had a good time teasing the distraught Mahesham. Thorappan received royal treatment at KTM, him being the only customer there. The showroom manager, who introduced himself as a ‘prematurely retired rider’ engaged us during the one hour we spent there.

At around three, we were at ‘Baron – the British Bar’, a palace heritage hotel by the beach, for lunch. It was a British-themed restaurant with contemporary décor. Sakthi, a native of Puri and Khan’s classmate in Chennai, joined us there. The food was too good and so was the ambience, that we couldn’t resist ourselves from a pint of beer. I had decided to stay away from such temptations during the trip; but the balcony facing the Bay of Bengal, the cool breeze and the company were worth some relaxation. Needless to say, we had a nice time in Britain.

Later in the day, Sakthi offered to take us for a drive around Puri. He was now our host in Puri! We got some rest after returning from Britain and Sakthi picked us up at around 6 in the evening. Soon after we started off, a black cat crossed the road and the seemingly terrified Sakthi immediately stopped the vehicle. “That’s an omen; this is the first time in my life that a black cat has crossed me,” said Sakthee. There was ‘pin drop silence’ inside the car. We could see that Sakthi’s eyes were red, like plums, and we guessed it. Thorappan and I had a hard time controlling our giggles.

At around three, we were at ‘Baron – the British Bar’, a palace heritage hotel by the beach, for lunch.

We were on the road to Konark. The fields and forests on either sides were flooded. It had been raining heavily in Puri until a couple of days back. Sakthi narrated how the city had just recovered from the havoc created by the Fani cyclone. Fani wasn’t the first cyclone to visit Puri either; the 1999 Odisha cyclone had been even worse. The fact that people were migrating out of Puri due to such natural calamities, brought a sudden gloom into our minds.

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Out of Curiosity...

Odisha is a state vulnerable to tropical cyclones. The 1999 cyclone was the worst to strike Odisha in the 20th century. The high storm surge, strong winds and torrential rainfall killed around 10,000 people. The surge (coastal flooding) brought water up to 35 kilometers inland, carrying along with it coastal debris and inundating towns and villages. The surge combined with heavy rains to produce widespread flooding, damaging around 1.6 million homes.

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… but the balcony facing the Bay of Bengal, the cool breeze and the company were worth some relaxation.

We took a detour from the main road. There was a narrow road going into the forest. We drove for about a kilometer before we reached a temple. There were a few people there. Further ahead, the road came to a dead end. We got out of the car. It was pitch dark outside. I could feel the sea breeze and hear the waves roaring. I guess we were on a small hill; a sandy one, which descended into the sea. A low boundary wall was constructed at the edge of the hill. I sat there, gazing into the emptiness that spread before me. I looked up; it was one of the most beautiful night skies I had ever witnessed. There were hundreds or maybe thousands of stars out there. With every blink of my eye, a few disappeared and many more appeared. Thorappan joined Khan and Sakthi for a roll. Mahesh too lit a cig. I lay down on the platform; my hands folded behind to cushion my head; I made myself comfortable. Mahesh played a Malayalam melody on the Bluetooth speaker. At times, Mahesham does the right thing at the right time, and I love him for that. This was perhaps the ‘mood on’ that I see in a lot many WhatsApp statuses these days. I knew that I had to seize these moments. Of course, the whole trip is supposed to give you a good time; but there are rare moments like these when you could actually feel a sort of liberation; when the world around you, with all its worries, ceases to exist. You need to enjoy such moments, make the most of them.

Thorappan too came and lay down beside me. Mahesh was sitting at my foot, relaxed, looking at the skies and taking slow drags. Both of them were in their own worlds. Khan and Sakthi were standing near the car and engaged in a deep conversation, perhaps about their college days. I closed my eyes. The cool breeze, the sound of the waves and the music – perhaps this is the definition of ‘bliss’. Slowly, I slipped into an enchanted nap – puri-fied.

(to be continued…)

Chapter 3_The Illegitimate Child of CCD

Chapter 3

The Illegitimate Child of CCD

I thought for a second that some vehicle behind me had lost control and was about to crash on me. It was Thorappan. He was yelling at me. I slowed down. Apparently, I had been gliding to the left, which basically meant that I was dozing off. Did I sleep? I wasn’t quite sure about it; unable to recall the past few seconds, it all felt like a dream – a bad one.

We enquired at the very next petrol bunk about lodging options. Fortunately, there was one in a few kilometers. Thus, after 804 kilometers, day one on road came to an end. We had covered an extra 40 kilometers; but the plan of winding up the ride before sunset flopped on day one itself.

We got a room for the four of us, at 1500 bucks. As we liberated ourselves from the riding gears and unpacked our bags, the room filled up with so much stuff that one would wonder whether all these were going on four bikes. We spent 15 minutes doing the ‘avalokanam’ of the day. Avalokanam is an audio diary; all four of us would sit together, recall and voice record the day's events. (‘Avalokanams’ are the ‘deep resources’ for the blog). After the avalokanam, Khan and Thorappan went to the terrace for a ‘joint’ venture. I picked up my sleep from where I had left it on the road. So did Mahesh. It must have been 2 AM when the enlightened ones joined us.

We woke up late the next day. We cleaned and lubed our bikes’ chains. The sky was overcast. As we were packing our bags, I received an SMS on my phone from the ‘APSDMA’ (Andhra Pradesh State Disaster Management Authority). It read, “Any time within the next 40 minutes there is a chance of lightning strike in the vicinity of your village/habitation. Please take shelter in a safe building.” Omen? Not for the boys whom I’m adventuring with. We were soon back on the road. It must have been 10:30 AM. Day 2 it is.

We stopped for tea before entering the highway. It was drizzling. We were in the market area of a village. It was quite busy. We soon became a major attraction for the people passing by. The tea was good; the secret ingredient being the rain drops from the thatched roof, that fell into my cup.

We had approximately 600 kilometers to Puri. After about 150 kilometers on the highway, just before entering Vishakhapatnam city, Google Ammachi asked us to take a deviation onto a bypass that would save us the trouble of the city traffic. Going by the logic, we agreed to Ammachi’s suggestion and entered the bypass road. The initial few kilometers were scenic and had many bents; Thorappan captured a few good frames on his Gopro as well. Soon, Rajamundry bypass version 2.0 unfolded - bad roads, lorries and dust. The day had started off pretty well with all of us riding at the same pace, keeping in line. However, yet again, Mahesh and Khan disappeared with the dust. Thorappan and I trailed behind. After a while, I missed Thorappan as well. The next few kilometers were very frustrating – I didn’t have any idea when I would see the highway or my fellow riders again. I caught up with Thorappan after a while and we continued together from there on. The sun was right up there and made the ride even more testing. After about 40 kilometers of uncertainty, we reached the highway. I was completely exhausted. A bottle of ‘Pulpy Orange’ went down my throat in a gulp. There were two little curious kids in that tiny roadside shop. Their mother was resting inside and they were in charge of the shop. It was interesting to see how the 7 or 8 -year olds checked the price on the bottle, confirmed it with their mother, collected the money from me and gave back the balance. 

The day had started off pretty well with all of us riding at the same pace...

We rang up Mahesh and were surprised to know that they still had 20 more kilometers to the highway. Confusion! How on earth is that possible! We exchanged our locations and indeed they were quite far behind. Apparently, they had waited for us at a junction for about 45 minutes. We might have missed each other there or Thorappan and I hadn’t taken their route. It was decided that Thorappan and I would continue on the highway, stop at a convenient place for lunch, and wait for the other two to catch up. Thorappan and I kept going on; we would slow down near every other hotel, look at each other and exchange nods that meant ‘the next one’. We nodded thus for the next 80 or so kilometers. 

It was 5 PM by the time all four of us reunited. We stopped for a meal which would be the only one of the day. Thorappan and I were very keen on stopping at a CCD (Café Coffee Day) and did find one with the help of Google Ammachi. We had to take a detour from the highway and ride 3 kilometers into a town. We didn’t mind the extra 6 kilometers. However, we were heart-broken to find out that the shop was an illegitimate child of CCD. They just had a ‘tea/coffee/beverage machine’ that belonged to the CCDs. Otherwise, they were an independent shop. However, the place and the menu were quite appealing and we went in. We ordered sandwich and cool drinks. The sandwiches were tasty and filling. The drink wasn’t that good, but I was very impressed by the effort put in by the master to decorate the glass with a piece of lemon, papaya (that too cut in the shape of a star!) and cherry each. To top it, there was a tiny little umbrella resting on the ice-cream scoop, floating on the drink. I not only ate the fruits in my glass but also forced the others to do the same. Mahesh didn’t budge and I ate his share as well. I felt that eating the fruits was a token of appreciation for the master. As we paid the bill, I had a chat with him. Apparently, he had undergone training in Thrissur. 

Soon, Rajamundry bypass version 2.0 unfolded - bad roads, lorries and dust.

After the all-in-one meal of the day, we continued our ride. We had another 300 kilometers to Puri. Once again we were together in a line, for the first few kilometers of the session. As always, the Khan-Mahesh duo disappeared soon enough. Thorappan and I rode parallel to each other; Thorappan had deduced that riding parallel would increase the  road visibility (two bikes – two headlights – double the light!). After about 100 kilometers, we took a water break; Khan and Mahesh were waiting for us at a petrol bunk. Thorappan had a can of ‘Monster’ (an energy drink) and became super charged. I sped along with him and soon the Khan-Mahesh duo disappeared behind us (which is a very rare scenario). We entered Odisha after a while.

The terrain changed all of a sudden. There were hills on our left, and a huge water body on our right. There was not much light, and I couldn’t see much of the landscape. The water body on the right was the Chilika lake. Had we passed this route during daytime, it would have been a different experience altogether. In fact, Google Ammachi had suggested an alternate route which included a ferry ride as well! 

******

Out of Curiosity…

Chilika lake is a brackish water lagoon in Odisha. It is the largest coastal lagoon in India and the second largest brackish water lagoon in the world. Besides being the largest wintering ground for migratory birds on the Indian sub-continent, the lake is also home to the rare and endangered Irrawaddy dolphins. 

******

We entered Odisha after a while.

At around 11:30 PM, we reached a junction on the highway, from where we had to take a right and ride another 50 kilometers to reach Puri. But Google Ammachi told us that the 50 kilometer ride would take us almost two hours. That was unusual. We inferred that more adventure was awaiting us, before we could call it a day!

(to be continued...)

Chapter 2_"Road Trips Are Like This..."

Chapter 2
“Road Trips Are Like This…”

I stopped for a few minutes. It was an open area and there was no shelter for me to take out my phone and ring up the guys. I noticed that the other people on the road weren’t panicking much; in fact they were moving ahead slowly. I too continued further. The bike kept swaying in the wind. After another 15 minutes of acrobatics, I reached a small town. I took shelter and contacted Thorappan and Mahesh. They were about a kilometer ahead of me, in a petrol bunk. I covered the distance and reached the spot. They were surrounded by 5-7 guys; some of whom were inspecting the bikes. Mahesh and Thorappan were busy answering the curious queries of those people. It was such a relief to be back with them again.

The rain kept interfering every now and then. It was quite amazing how there would be a few kilometers of dryness and then a heavy downpour all of a sudden; as if it was a ‘hide and seek’ game. I wondered whether the monsoons would spoil our trip. We passed several towns, some smelling of tobacco, and stopped at a place called ‘Kaja’ for tea. I removed my t-shirt and squeezed the water off. As we sipped hot Nescafe coffee, the sun set behind us, giving an orange tinge to the skies of Kaja.

We rang up Khan and quite surprisingly he too had the same distance as us to Vijayawada – around 30 kilometers. (For those of you who haven’t read the prequels: Khan is the fourth one on this trip, riding from Mumbai and joining us at Vijayawada.) Soon we entered Vijayawada. The traffic was quite heavy and we wiggled our way through it. After exiting the city, we waited for Khan to join us. We were very excited. Mahesh was ready with his mobile to capture Khan’s arrival. And then, we saw the bright fog lights at a distance; quite distinct from the other vehicles. There he was, Khan, with a wide smile on his face.

As we sipped hot Nescafe coffee, the sun set behind us, giving an orange tinge to the skies of Kaja.

After a quick catch up about his tough ride, we hit the roads. We had around 180 kilometers more to Rajahmundry, our destination for day 1. It was already 7:30 PM. We literally flew the next 100 kilometers – the Khan impact. The road wasn’t that great; there were small stretches of bad roads with unexpected potholes every now and then. It was the unsaid responsibility of the rider in the lead to bang into the most treacherous potholes and warn the others not to do so!

How eventful can a road trip be without a few cameos by the ‘Google ammachi’ (aka Google Maps)! 100 kilometers from Vijayawada, two roads diverged in front of us – one 40 and the other 70 kilometers to Rajahmundry -  and (unfortunately) we took the shorter one, as suggested by ammachi. The roads, or rather paths (they don’t qualify to be called roads!) went from bad to worse. Had it been the roads alone, we would have still managed it; the lorries, hundreds of them, up and down, made the task a tough one! There was so much of dust in the air that the road, I mean path, was barely visible. Khan and Mahesh soon disappeared; Thorappan and I trailed behind. Thorappan would often stop for the gangs of lorries to pass by and the dust to settle down. Otherwise a chill chap, he became very silent, and I felt sorry for him. Soon enough I had to feel sorry for myself as well - I developed a pain in my chest; it was probably the lungs choking with the dust. I took a break and drank some water. The pain subsided. We reached a railway cross where we caught up with Khan and Mahesh. A different kind of path awaited us beyond the railway cross. In fact, I do not know how to describe it. There were bridges - long ones. They had the names of English men. Whatever they were, they never seemed to end – one bridge after the other. (I googled it now – apparently, it was the ‘Sir Arthur Cotton Barrage’. ) I even had some Deja vu moments. It was a test of the machine, the body and the mind. To summarize, those odd 40 kilometers drained the enthusiasm out of us – all four of us.

******

Out of Curiosity

The Dowleswaram barrage was an irrigation structure originally built in 1850 on the lower stretch of the Godavari river before it empties into the Bay of Bengal. It was rebuilt in 1970 when it was officially renamed the Sir Arthur Cotton Barrage/Godavari Barrage.

******

We had around 180 kilometers more to Rajahmundry, our destination for day 1.

After what seemed like a never ending 40 kilometers, we were back on the highway and we reached Rajahmundry in a while. It was midnight. There was a roadside restaurant (what we call ‘thattukada’ in Kerala and ‘akkakadai’ in Pondy) open. An Oyo room was available nearby as well. We spent a few minutes discussing whether to go into Rajahmundry town and look for better options. We decided to look for better options, which we soon realized didn’t exist. There were no restaurants open, nor rooms available. We came back to the highway. The thattukada had closed and the Oyo room had also been taken. Sabaash! We were hungry and tired. Mahesh shared some gyan, “well, road trips are like this, we should expect the worst. Let’s take the highway and see if we come across any other options.” Having known Mahesham for almost seven years now, I read between the lines - “Let’s take the highway and ride to Puri (our destination for day 2), we’ll see if there are any other options enroute” is what he actually meant.  I resisted the idea of riding further. We had seen another ‘thattukada’ in the town and I suggested we go back and have something there. Thorappan didn’t speak much; he hadn’t yet come to terms with the last 40 kilometers. Eventually, we went to the thattukada. Only dosa and idly were available. Mahesh had idlies while the rest of us had dosas. At times the universe conspires in ridiculous ways. The idlies weren’t cooked properly. Mahesh started murmuring. “Road trips are like this, we should expect the worst,” I added a pinch of salt. Thorappan giggled; so did Khan.

We contacted Oyo and they informed us that we would have to travel another 30 kilometers to find rooms. We were back on the highway. A few kilometers ahead, I started yawning. I told Thorappan that I was done for the day. This put him on high alert. He alerted the others as well and soon I had an escort – Khan and Mahesh in the front and Thorappan close behind. Besides, I was asked to sing loudly.

The continuous honking from behind woke me up.

(to be continued…)