Chapter 20_Discovering Heaven

Chapter 20

Discovering Heaven

Indeed, it was an ambitious target – 985 kilometers in a day. But, when the roads are in your favour and you partner has the same ‘wavelength’ as you, Herculean tasks can become a cakewalk. That sums up the last day on road for our guys – Thorappan and Khan. By 2 PM, they were in Hyderabad. They had only one commitment in the ‘World Capital of Biriyani’ – eat biriyani. However, the roads had got them high and all they wanted to do was keep riding. That the ‘outer ring road’ could not be accessed by bikes, they had to make their way through the city traffic. But when they exited the city and entered the highway to Bangalore, they were to taste the icing on the cake – the best road ever. After a quick snack from Udupi Hotel, that included a special chocolate coffee which seemed to have impressed the both of them, they entered the last leg of their 7000 kilometer trip. Keeping a constant of 100-120 kilometers per hour, they were in Bangalore before night life began there. After a cup of sulaimaani at ‘Thalassery Biriyani Restaurant’ in Electronic City, they shook hands, hugged each other and parted ways, to their respective rooms. Adios brothers!

Khan and Thorappan on the Hyderabad-Bangalore Expressway…

That same day, at around 10 PM, the Aronai Express reached Ernakulum Junction, a few hours later than the scheduled time. In fact, it is not for us to expect the train to reach a station at the expected time; Indian Railways are beyond our expectations! Mahesh was picked up by his friends, who then drove him home. A week later, he would be picking up his bike from this very same station. How the bike reached there so soon and on which train, is still a mystery unsolved.

That same day, at around 3 PM, the New Jalpaiguri-Chennai Express reached Chennai Central station. After forty-two hours of ‘eat-sleep-repeat’, I stepped out of the train. There was task at hand – to get Batman on road – one that wasn’t going to be an easy one. The luggage compartment was locked and there wasn’t anyone around. The parcel office was about a 100 meters across the platform. I walked to the office, carrying all my luggage. It was a dingy room with only an officer in there. I informed him that my bike was there on the train that had just arrived. Unlike the nasty guys in Siliguri, this man was a straightforward one. He told me to get the bike to his office, without involving anyone else. He warned me that I would have to encounter quite a few individuals, whose intention would be to extort money out of me, rather than help. He allowed me to leave my luggage in his office as well. I walked back to the train. The luggage compartment was open and two men were unloading stuff on to the platform. I showed them the Batman’s documents and requested them to unload the bike from the train. They did so without any reluctance. They offered the same piece of advice that the officer at the parcel office had given – “don’t let anyone touch your vehicle”. They then asked me to pay them for unloading the bike and I paid 100 bucks.

I took Batman to the parcel office. The 100 meters to the office had railway lines going hither and thither, line those veins on your hand – around six tracks coming from Basin Bridge side split into fifteen or more ones as they went into the station. I had to cross all of them. But for some curious glances, no one approached me. I parked the bike outside and finished all the formalities at the office. A guy appeared out of nowhere and the officer told me that he would help me unpack the bike. As we walked towards the exit gate, another guy came towards me and whispered in my ear that I shouldn’t pay the other guy anything more than fifty. I felt like being in an alien world – there were people around me engaged in some work or the other and every now and then, they were giving me looks; I was being guided by a stranger whom I had no option but to trust; and then there were strangers giving me strange advises!

Outside the station, the guy helped me remove the packing of my bike. I paid him fifty bucks and he was happy. While I was googling where the nearest petrol bunk was, he offered to help me. I gave him hundred bucks and he took a ‘share auto’ to the nearest petrol bunk. He was back in another 10 minutes with a liter of petrol, but I had started Batman by then (the porters at Siliguri hadn’t burned out the entire fuel). The rear view mirrors had to be fixed and I asked him where the nearest mechanic shop was. He told me that he could fix it himself and did so. He asked me to pay him another thirty bucks. I smiled, paid, and thanked him for all his help. Finally, we were back on the road, for our last leg of the trip – Chennai to Pondy, 160 kilometers!

The initial few kilometers through the Chennai roads were hectic. I suddenly became conscious that Batman was handicapped owing to his bent handlebar. One of the rear view mirrors kept coming loose as well. I did not feel very comfortable riding Batman through the city in such conditions. And therefore, I was relieved when we entered the East Coast Road.

I rode cautiously, as I didn’t want any mishaps to come my way right at the end of an otherwise eventful trip. At an average of 60 kilometers per hour, we cut through the sea breeze blowing in from the east coast. The customary tea break was taken at Kalpakkam. The next seventy kilometers would take no more than ninety minutes.

The last leg…

At 7:30 PM, on the twenty-ninth day of September 2019, after 3670 kilometers on road, I was back home after my dream trip. As I unloaded the luggage from my bike, I felt very tired – physically. However, within myself, I felt that I had grown a little stronger. Sixteen days back, while loading the luggage onto Batman, I had been full of apprehensions. And it was never a cakewalk all day long either. The weather had been harsh at times, the plan had to be changed many a times, there were plenty of nightmares on the road, OYO and the Indian Railways had given us quite a bit of trouble and so on. On the other side, we had made beautiful memories that would stay with us the rest of our lives – times spent with all those lovely families in Siliguri and Lachung, exploring the Himalayas, off-roading, seeing snow for the first time in our lives and so on. And in the end, it was all those bits and pieces put together – the highs and lows – that made this dream a worthy one to chase. And every successful dream is a call for a bigger one!

On the way to Pondy, about forty kilometers from Kalpakkam, you could see a vast stretch of white desert on your right – the Marakkanam salt pans. That day, I passed the area at around 6 PM. The sun was setting, and the view was mind-blowing. The salt pans and the sky blended together to form a huge canvas. And the artist had made gentle strokes of different colours – red, orange, yellow, blue, grey and white. I just stood there, imbibing the beauty. Nature is beautiful, everywhere – up there in the Himalayas and down here in the east coast. One just needs to open his eyes and see. Needless to say, “beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder.”

And that’s the truth that trips like these validate for you. That heaven is here. You just need to explore and enjoy it as much as possible. And that’s what I believe too – that,

‘The world is a better place, if you keep exploring…’

-         The Curious Kid

(The End)

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Chapter 19_The Endurance Ride

Chapter 19

The Endurance Ride

“No…”

I replied, as the train chugged out of the station. As I walked back to the dreaded room - the cloak room - on platform number one, I met the railway officer who had helped us in the morning. I narrated to him the unfortunate turn of events. He then accompanied me to the office of the arrogant guy, to enquire about it. After a brief conversation with the arrogant guy, the officer assured me that Mahesh’s bike would be sent home on the next train, the following week.

I walked to the godown. My bike was still there. And what would be its fate? I would know in another couple of hours. With very little energy left and a terribly aching head, I walked to the ‘waiting room’. At around 8:45 PM, my train came to the platform – platform number three. I ran to the godown. Luckily the porters who had packed my bike in the morning were there. They were busy loading stuff onto a trolley. I asked one of them whether he could load the bike onto the train. He ignored my question, as well as my presence. I asked again. This time, without looking at me, he replied: “we asked you guys to pay us in the morning; you didn’t; why do you come to us now?” So that was it. You either bribe 100% or you don’t bribe at all and face the consequences. 99.9% bribing is as good as not bribing. I pleaded and he said that I would have to pay 200 bucks for it. I readily agreed.

The bike was taken from the godown to platform number three. The luggage van was already open and other stuff were being loaded into it. Batman too was loaded. I breathed. I paid the porter his money and thanked him. I clicked a couple of pictures of Batman inside the luggage van. Getting him to the Himalayas or the Zero Point was an achievement; but getting him inside this coach was an even greater one!

Batman inside the luggage compartment…

I walked to my coach. It was adjacent to the luggage van. I had a side lower berth to myself. I stuffed my belongings below the seat and sat down to remove my shoes. Right across, through the window, I could see the luggage office. The train started on time – at 9 PM. The luggage office slid out of my view and I prayed that I would never have to see that place again.

Adios New Jalpaiguri Luggage Office –never again!

I ate the snacks that I had bought for dinner and went off to sleep. And this was what I would be doing for the next few days – eat, sleep, repeat.

Khan and Thorappan halted at Malhar in Madhya Pradesh on day 2. After the terrible roads of Patna, an expressway welcomed them as they entered MP. They rode another 150 kilometers on that highway to reach Malhar. While the Himalayan roads had ‘water crossings’ intermittently, the plain roads had ‘cattle crossings’ once in a while. They got a decent hotel to stay in Malhar. It had a secure garage and the boys left their luggage on the bikes itself for the night.

After a tough ride (day 2) …

The destination for day 3 was Nagpur. After a quick breakfast from a roadside dhaba, they cruised along the highway. It drizzled once in a while, but the roads were too good for Goddess Rain to cause any trouble. But for those water breaks and fuel stops, they rode continuously during the day. When they had just around 60 kilometers to Nagpur, things took a turn. Of course, no day on the road has ended without a twist in the ‘tail’. There was a block on the main highway and they had to take a deviation, adding an extra 60 kilometers to Nagpur – 120 in all. This alternate route was a ghat road. Khan’s Himalayan had been facing some issues for a while and was due for service. Apparently, when the chains were tightened in Gangtok, it was done disproportionately, which meant that the rear tire wobbled. As Thorappan arched a curve, he saw Khan sitting on the road, with the bike lying a little away from him. The back tire had slid and they had gone down. Luckily, he had been riding slowly and the fall hadn’t caused much damage. The knuckle guard and the center stand had broken. They continued to ride and got the damages repaired at a road side workshop.

The roadside dhaba where our guys had breakfast on day 3…

As they entered outer Nagpur, there was a Madhya Pradesh-Maharashtra integrated police check post. For the first time on this trip, the police wanted to check the luggage and Khan and Thorappan had a tough time untying the luggage for the police.

At around 4 PM, the boys reached Nagpur city. The revised plan was to get the bikes serviced and ride for another 100 kilometers or so before they called it a day. They received a warm welcome at the Royal Enfield service center. The manager of the place himself took care of the proceedings and Khan’s bike was given a priority service. They didn’t even want the luggage to be removed from the vehicle during the service. The riders returning from Sikkim were being treated royally!

Entering Nagpur…

As the bike was being serviced, Khan and Thorappan refilled their tummies with the local delicacy ‘chole batture’. The welcome was no different at the Duke service center. In a matter of two hours, both the bikes had been serviced. Both of them had to get their brake pads replaced. They resumed their ride at 6:30 PM and took the Hyderabad road. After riding almost 150 kilometers, their bodies were low on battery and they stopped at a highway hotel. However, as always, the first hotel is not our hotel. This one was too expensive. A stranger approached them and told them that he knew a hotel that was affordable and decent. The boys followed him and true to his word, the hotel was indeed a good one. They were in Pandharkawada, Maharashtra, at the end of day 3.

The hotel owner’s son was a member of the local ‘Avenger Riders Group’. This meant that Khan and Thorappan couldn’t sleep until they heard out all his adventure stories. Two other riders from Karnataka, who were on their way to Ladakh, too stayed the night in that hotel. One of them rode a Duke 390, while the other an Apache 200. Khan, who had already done Ladakh a couple of years back, gave them some useful tips. When they woke up the next morning, the guys had already left.

The plan for day 4 was a bit ambitious, to the extent that there wasn’t a day 5 in the plan! They decided to ride the remaining 985 kilometers to Bangalore in a single day – an endurance ride.

(to be continued…)

Chapter 18_Aane Kee Sambhaavana Hai

Chapter 18

Aane Kee Sambhaavana Hai

The lady officer did the calculations and I had to pay 1586 bucks – only. Mahesh had another mild attack. Besides, I saved another two hundred bucks as well, a sum which would have been claimed by the ‘dictating officer’ for his yet another ‘favour’.

Outside, Batman had been packed. Mahesh told me that the porters didn’t wait for the entire fuel to burn out. In a way it was good for us. I had been worrying about how a fuel-injection bike, without a ‘kick start’, would behave on attempting to start it after the entire petrol had been drained out of the fuel line. Now that some fuel was left in the tank, the creature in my head had one less thing to eat my head for. Nevertheless, it was against the law. The tin slate with the identification number was hung on the bike – hundred bucks. The porters then demanded another two hundred bucks for loading the bike into the train in the evening. We got a feeling that they were trying to take advantage of our situation. We told them that the payment would be made after loading.

 Batman all set to be entrained…

Around 1 PM, we were done with the formalities. We were tired and hungry. It was decided that one of us would go for lunch, while the other sat guard for the luggage, in the waiting room. The cloak room refused to accept our luggage, for some weird reasons (I am not able to recollect them now). Mahesh went for lunch. He came back after what seemed like a lot of time. He then sat guard, while I went out to attend to the calls from my starving tummy. There were plenty of shops on either side of the road outside the station. Shopkeepers waved from the entrances of their shops, trying to lure me in. I walked into one of the many shops that offered biriyani.

The Parcel Way Bill

‘Biriyani is an emotion’ could be a cliché. However, biriyani is indeed an emotion. In India, every few hundred kilometers the biriyani is different – from the colour, to the ingredients, the aroma and most importantly the taste. The biriyani that was served in that small shop in Siliguri was different in its own way. However, it did not make much of an impression on my mind.

ID card…

I had contracted a mild cough, and was a little worried about the next two days in an air-conditioned coach. I rang up Vishnu, one of my partner-in-crimes from school days. He had added a prefix to his name just a couple of months back - Dr. He asked me to get a cough syrup with a particular chemical composition. I went around looking for ‘dhawayi’ shops. The one that I managed to find did not have the type of syrup that Vishnu had suggested. I then rang him up again and got his approval to buy the medicine that was available there.

My phone beeped. It was a message from Indian Railways – my ticket had been confirmed. I had sought the help of Sreenath, my other partner-in-crime from school, for this. (Together Vishnu, Sreenath and I had done quite a lot of ‘crimes’ in our higher secondary days. They would qualify for a blog of their own). Waitlisted 6 in second AC was tough. However, I trusted the ‘MP quotas’. Not doing so would have been floccinaucinihilipilification.

Aronai Express was late, by an hour at first, two later and three after that. Mahesh kept visiting the godown, where his bike had been packed and kept, every now and then. It was still there, which worried him. It was supposed to be moved to the platform on which the train would arrive. I went to the luggage office to enquire about it. They told me that their part of the deal was over and the rest of the processes had to be taken care of by the office in the next room. The young officer in that next room, in white and white, was an arrogant fellow. When I asked him about moving the bike to the platform, he gave me a curt reply: “the train will come. We will look if there is space in the luggage compartment. If there is enough space, we will load the bike.” I got a sense that things wouldn’t be smooth. During the next couple of hours, Mahesh paid a visit to the godown every fifteen minutes.

Meanwhile, Thorappan and Khan were having a tough time on the road. Their destination for day one had been Patna. Soon after leaving Siliguri, they got company – the goddess of rain. Things were quite smooth until before they almost reached Patna, after sunset. The rain had intensified by then. The little TV in a tea shop in Patna told them that the city was flooding. The guys did not think much – they fled the flood. The Ganges had taken over the slums on its banks and the sights that they saw over the next few kilometers terrified the boys; they kept riding until they reached Aurangabad, 150 kilometers from Patna, late into the night. The (room) booking apps did not make their life any easy. After the initial confusions (which they were used to by then), they got a room in a hotel near the highway. The AC in the ‘air-conditioned’ room didn’t work due to low voltage!

Rain, rain, rain again…

The next day, as they were getting ready their bikes, goddess rain wished them ‘good morning’. She followed them for the rest of the day. The roads were… Well, there were no roads as such, apparently. They were able to cover only a couple of hundred kilometers before the sun punched out. “A guy at a tea shop told us that things would get better when we enter Madhya Pradesh. We are planning to cover some more distance before we call it a day”. They told us over phone that evening. Aronai Express hadn’t arrived yet.

One of their breaks with nature…

At around 6:30 PM, the announcement came, that “ghaadi number ek dho paanch shoonya aat Aronai Express from Silchar to Thiruvananthapuram via… dhodi bhi dher mem platform number theen par aayega”. We went to the godown. Mahesh’s bike was still there. We went to the office of the arrogant officer. He repeated his slogan. The porters were nowhere to be seen. We walked to platform number three, with all our luggage.

It was dark. The platform wasn’t lighted well, nor our hearts. The train arrived. Mahesh boarded. I then ran to the luggage coach at the front. I struggled to breathe, running with all my stuff – a bag each on my left and right shoulders, a cover full of things in my left hand and my helmet in the right. The luggage compartment was locked. I ran to the arrogant office. He causally responded that if not this train, the bike would be sent on the next train. I ran back to the platform. A guy came and sealed the lock on the door of the luggage compartment, like how they seal seized properties. I told him that my friend’s bike had to be loaded. He responded that he wasn’t informed about any such thing.

The train started to move. Mahesh called me. I picked up the call, worried what to tell him.

“My bike is not on the train, right?”

(to be continued…)

Chapter 17_The Railway Cross

Chapter 17

The Railway Cross

Thank God, there were no vehicles behind me, except for a scooter guy. He stopped his vehicle, came to me and helped lift Batman off me. “All okay”, he asked with a smile. I nodded. My brain had gone numb after the sudden turn of events. The protective gears ensured that I didn’t suffer any injuries. It was not the case with Batman though. The handle bar had bent inwards slightly. However, there were no hindrances for riding. At a distance, a jeep full of people were chilling by the side of the road. All their eyes were on me. ‘Attention’ being something I’m averse to, I gathered myself and continued the ride.

Batman’s disoriented handlebar did muddle the peaceful waters of my mind. I had to distract myself. “How shall I break the news to the guys?” I role-played the scene in my head, with different dialogues. Finally, when I met them, Khan and Thorappan, after fifteen minutes, this was what I uttered: “Guys, I kissed and bid farewell to NH 10.” Unfortunately, the dialogue didn’t bring about the desired effect. Dumb fellas couldn’t crack it. I had to then tell them plainly that I fell down. Sigh!

We had stopped for tea. The sun was already passing the baton to the moon. Mahesh arrived after a while. Unlike the three of us, he hadn’t been tested by the road. To look at it another way, he had one less story to tell.

We had another 20 kilometers to Siliguri. New Jalpaiguri Railway Station was our destination. We had to enquire about the procedures for parceling bikes. The traffic thickened as we entered the outskirts of the city. Google Maps led us to the railway station via alternate routes. It was a pretty big station; in fact, a very important junction that connected the north eastern states to the rest of India. Khan and I walked into the station, in search of the ‘parcel office’. We had our riding gears on – jackets and knee guards – which turned people’s attention towards us. Perhaps, we looked like terrorists – the conventional ones. The parcel office was at one end of platform one. Khan spoke to one of the guys there, who said that it wasn’t much of a deal; we just had to bring the bikes three hours before the scheduled departure of our trains.

We walked back to our bikes, as numerous stares pierced through our armours. During their wait, Mahesh and Thorappan had met a soldier from Kerala. He had approached them after spotting the Kerala registered bikes. He was delighted to have met someone from ‘home’. 3000 kilometers away, the concept of home was broader.

We had booked rooms at the very same place we had stayed during the onward journey – Shibani Homestay. On the way from the railway station to the homestay, my bike ran out of fuel. I was shell-shocked. The last warning hadn’t come. The first warning is when the last bar starts blinking. After about 50-80 kilometers, this bar disappears and the fuel sign starts blinking. This is final warning after which a maximum of 40 kilometers can be covered. This critical warning wasn’t given this time and it was the first time in his life that Batman ran out of food. The other three were ahead of me. I rang up Thorappan, who took a U-turn and came to me. He had stock in his jerry cans.

The deedi at Shibani Homestay was surprised to see us again. So was her little brother. Like last time, Thorappan and I settled into one room, while Khan and Mahesh took the adjacent one. We took much-needed baths after the no-water morning in Gangtok. Khan and Thorappan went out to get food. We were longing to have some chicken and therefore their task was to get something Arabian. However, Siliguri didn’t have much options for that; besides the prices were too high as well. Nevertheless, we didn’t leave our desires unfulfilled. Grilled chicken, dragon chicken, fried rice and fermented grains were there on our menu that night.

We sat together on one bed for dinner. Four hands went into one platter. The food was good. We spoke about our best memories of the past one week. We pulled each other’s legs. We laughed. The grains did their job quite well. This was our last night together in this trip.

The next morning woke up to us sevenishly. Thorappan and Khan went down to the garage to get ready their machines for the long ride. Mahesh and I gave them company. At 9, they were ready to leave. We hugged each other. Over the last thirteen days we had built a strong bond among us – one that was cast in times of dreaming together, moulded in times of happiness and thrill, tested in times of distress and disappointment, and finally polished in times of fulfillment and hope.

Adios!

After Thorappan and Khan left, Mahesh and I went back to bed. Deedi served us breakfast after a while. We did not have elaborate plans for the day. After noon, we planned to drop Mahesh’s bike at the railway station and get the parceling processes done. If time and mood permitted, we would visit Hong Kong market, a popular street market in Siliguri, on our way back. The next day noon, we would leave to the station on my bike. Mahesh’s train was at 4 PM and mine was at 9.

Shibani Homestay, Siliguri

At around 2 in the afternoon, we went to the railway station. I parked my bike in the parking lot and went with Mahesh. The station had numerous platforms and a foot over bridge stretched across from the first platform to the last one. We had to ride on this bridge to get the bike to the parcel office. Mahesh started to sweat. This was perhaps the greatest challenge he had faced on a motorcycle. People walked up and down the bridge. They gave him stares, as it was not normal for a bike to be rode on a foot over bridge. His speedometer didn’t reach the double digits. I couldn’t but help laughing. I controlled myself though, after suddenly realizing that I too would have to undergo this test the next day!

At the parcel office, they asked us to get the bike packed first. We approached the porters there who told us that the packing would cost us 700 bucks. They emptied the fuel from the bike, till the last drop. As per rules, the vehicle is not supposed to start after that. Two litres of petrol was retrieved, which we gifted to the porters. The bike was then covered with carton boxes and plastic sacks. We were not very satisfied with the packing; we didn’t have better options though. Back in the parcel office we were asked to fill a form, with details about the travel and the bike. Additional details such as “petrol tank empty; not packed with wooden crates; old and used” etc. were dictated to me by the officer. After filling up the form, we had to take it to another officer, a lady, sitting next to the dictating officer. She was busy with some other work and we waited patiently. After a while, she took our form, referred her handbook and made some calculations. The transportation cost was nearly 5000 bucks. Mahesh had a mild attack.

Paperwork for Mahesh’s vehicle…

After payment, we were asked to get the receipt number written on the bike. This was done by another guy who charged us 100 bucks for that. The number was written on a tin slate and hung on the bike. As we were getting this done, the officer who had made us to fill the forms came to us and told in a low voice that he had not written the actual specifications of the bike on the form as it would cost us around 18,000 bucks to transport it then. He explained how he was doing a favour for us. I read between the lines. We paid him 200 bucks. The bike was then moved to a godown.

Wrapped up…

Mahesh and I went back to the homestay on my bike. There was very little fuel left in it. We realized that we could have used some of the petrol from Mahesh’s bike to fill mine. We were not in a mood for Hong Kong market. We spent the rest of the day in our room.

The next morning, we hired an electric auto with the help of the homestay family. We loaded our luggage onto this auto. We bid farewell to deedi’s family and left for the station. Mahesh came in the auto. I filled petrol worth 30 bucks on the way. I was worried whether I would run out of fuel before reaching the station. At the same time, I did not want to waste fuel either.

The receipt that sent a shock wave down Mahesh’s spine…

Today it was my turn for the foot over bridge test. Luckily, there were very few people walking the bridge that day. I quickly got Batman to the parcel office. I then went back to help Mahesh bring all our luggage to the platform. By the time this was done, we were dripping wet in our sweat.

We then got my bike packed. Despite negotiation, the packing charge was the same. As there was very little petrol left in my bike, it was not pumped out. It was left on until it burned out. Meanwhile, I went to get the billing work done. There was a railway police officer sitting inside the parcel office. He enquired about our travel and helped me to fill the form. When the ‘dictating officer’ said that I need not give the actual specifications, the police officer intervened and said that it was better to give the actual details. In case of theft or damage, this would help me claim the maximum amount. Moreover, changing the details would not save me more than two or three hundreds. I looked at the dictating officer. His ‘18,000’ story had been exposed. He was visibly unhappy with the presence of the police officer and his intervention.

The destination on my form was MAS, which expanded to ‘Puratchi Thalaivar Dr. MGR Central’. “These southerners add their dad’s, granddad’s and great granddad’s names to their railway stations and bus stations,” mocked the unhappy officer, as he filled my details in his register. He assumed that I didn’t follow Hindi. ‘Third Language – Hindi’ in school never proved useful. However, he should have known that my roommate in EFLU was from Varanasi and two years with him had capacitated me to comprehend much of the Hindi that I heard. Most importantly, he should have known that I was quite proficient in Hindi swear words – “saaleh kauwah!”

(to be continued…)

Chapter 16_The Sikkim Souvenir

Chapter 16

The Sikkim Souvenir

“You guys had to ride all the way to Zero Point to see snow caps. Look, I have it here, right in front of me.” It was Mahesh. He was right. The mountains across our balcony were adorning their new white caps and they looked stunning. It was as if the universe had conspired for our Mahesham – poor chap had ridden all the way to Sikkim, but hadn’t explored the mountains much. “Good morning! Here’s for you, at your doorstep,” Mother Nature offered.

The snowcapped mountains that surprised Mahesh…

We soon got ready to leave for Gangtok. After our bikes were loaded, we had one last round of tea at Lachung, served by deedi. Two days back, when we sat there for the first time, I had asked for black tea. For the next ten or more rounds of tea we had there over the next few days, I was served black tea, without making a request. ‘Revirie Resort’ had been a great host for us. And therefore, I ensured that it was deedi who tied the prayer flag (bought from shop no. 41, Yumthang) onto Batman. It was our souvenir – the Sikkim souvenir.

‘Revirie Resort’ - our home in Lachung…

Before leaving Lachung, we bought a bottle of fuel for Khan’s bike. The jerry can reserves had made it to the tanks already. A liter of petrol cost INR 120. Of course, one wouldn’t bargain; the nearest petrol bunk was 50 kilometers down, in Mangan. The shopkeeper gave a discount of INR 20, for reasons unknown.

“Rendezvous” – our minds chanted, as we rode back to Gangtok, passing all those water crossings, bridges, falls and tunnels. We did not talk. We did not stop at any viewpoints. We just rode on. Our brains seemed to have gone numb – perhaps the thought that ‘the return ride has begun’ had started sinking in.

Adios Lachung!

At Chungthang check post, Khan enquired about any possibility for Gurudongmar. Nope, a bridge on the road to the lake had collapsed. And so did the last hopes of Gurudongmar. Two roads diverged in front of us – one to Lachen (and Gurudongmar) and the other to Gangtok. We took the latter, reassuring ourselves that the former was for another time.

All eight in a frame…

We stopped for breakfast at the same valley hotel we had dined during the onward journey – jumbo momos, tukpa and tea, yet again. A few kilometers from there, we missed the shortcut that we had taken while riding to Lachung. We soon reached a point which was on the Siliguri-Gangtok road. We now had to ride up to Gangtok, which was basically going around your head to reach your nose. I was very frustrated; unfortunately, I chose to vent my feelings on the throttle. I regret that decision, more for the fact that it was a disrespect to one of the most disciplined traffics in India.

At around 2 PM, we were back at ‘Capital O Chithrakoot’. Most of our belongings were chilling in a room in this hotel for the past few days. Thanks to OYO and Goibibo, we had turned the luxury room of a star hotel into a cloak room. We booked one more room and got some rest.

In the evening we went out to explore MG Marg, a market street in the center of Gangtok. We set out on two bikes. These bikes were given a royal bath on the way. Khan and Thorappan watched with gleaming eyes as the dirt and dust from the Himalayas washed down and their machines got back their colour.

MG Marg lies in the heart of Gangtok town. Vehicles are not allowed in this one kilometer long ‘marg’. The path is paved with granite tiles and there are illuminated shops on either sides. These ranged from hotels and pubs to gift shops selling souvenirs. There are benches in the middle for people to sit and relax. The place bustled with tourists and locals window shopping and taking leisure strolls. We went into an alley to try rolls from a pretty old and renowned shop. However, the place did not serve non-vegetarian rolls. There was another shop nearby, which did not boast of a rich heritage, but did serve non-veg rolls. There was just enough space for four people to stand inside that shop, though it was occupied by eight individuals munching delicious rolls.

As the sky darkened, the street lit up. There were lamp posts all along the street. The shops too glittered in decorative lights. It started drizzling and umbrellas popped up like mushrooms. We walked into shops to get ourselves a few tangible memories from Sikkim. These ranged from bottle openers to bamboo coasters. The prices of same items differed from shop to shop. For example: Mahesh bought a set of coasters for INR 200. A couple of shops ahead, it was sold at INR 150. Eventually I got it for INR 120 at a shop at the end of the street. Mahesham was utterly disappointed.

MG Marg…

Khan and Mahesham went from shop to shop looking for prayer beads of a specific color. The ones that pleased their minds cost a few hundreds and therefore they kept looking for better deals, shop after shop. After a point, Thorappan and I got really bored. At the end of the street, there was an alley going down and there were make-shift shops on both sides. Khan and Mahesham wanted to hunt in those shops as well. I decided that I wasn’t going to walk anymore. I knew Mahesham quite well. During our college days, I used to accompany him to shopping malls, where he would go to each and every clothing store, shortlist a few pieces from every place and go another round again to select one from the shortlisted candidates. My legs used to terribly ache those nights. Therefore, at the end of MG Marg, I just sat down and waited for him to hunt for his Sikkim souvenirs.

Down the alley…

While returning, we bought a few bottles of brewed grains to make the most of the last night in Sikkim. We had tukpa and a dish made from pork ribs for dinner. The chilly air and bottled stars gave us a good night’s sleep.

The initial hours of the next morning were very crucial for Mahesh and me. We had to book tatkal tickets for our return journey. We had two options: one – parcel the bikes and fly back home. This had a great deal of uncertainty, as we wouldn’t be able to predict when our bikes would reach us.  Two – travel by train and bring the bikes on the same train as luggage. Option two seemed more convenient, as it would allow us to pick up our bikes from the arrival station and ride home. Mahesh had to catch the Silchar-Trivandrum ‘Aronai Express’ from New Jalpaiguri and get down at Kochi, from where he had to ride (around 100 kilometers) home. I too could travel on the same train and get down at Chennai, from where I could ride to Pondy. However, we were worried whether there would be enough space for two bikes in the luggage coach. Since the train originated from a different station, it was possible that its luggage coach would be filled up when it reached Jalpaiguri. I had two other options of which the ‘New Jalpaiguri-Chennai Express’ was undoubtedly the best. Since the train originated from Jalpaiguri, there would be enough time for me to ensure that my bike was loaded on to the train and likewise for unloading it in Chennai.

At 9:30 AM we were all seated on plush sofas in the balcony of the hotel. It overlooked a range of mountains and the view was a very soothing one; except when you were booking tatkal. Mahesh couldn’t just sit anywhere; he walked up and down, like a father-to-be in front of the labour room. I decided to ride on my luck and booked a waitlisted (WL 6) second AC ticket, at around 9:45. This allowed all of us to try for Mahesh’s ticket. At 10, the IRCTC website froze on all our devices. By the time it came back to life, all AC tatkals on Aronai Express had been sold out. When tatkal closes its doors, you go to tatkal-ka-baap – premium tatkal. But as we all know, that guy is so dynamic! Second AC tickets were available at 7k INR (more than double the price of a normal second AC ticket), and poor Mahesh had no other option but to go for it.

There was no water in the hotel due to some problem with the plumbing. Most of us postponed our morning rituals. The room boys went around with buckets of water for other guests. We got ready to ride down to Siliguri. There were a few confusions during checkout, as our multiple bookings from various apps had messed up the calculations of the receptionist. It took us a while to settle it out.

It must have been 11:30 AM when we left Gangtok. Khan led the group, followed by Thorappan and me. Mahesham trailed behind – he had left Gangtok with a heavy heart and a light pocket.

Thorappan on cam…

We cruised down leisurely. All of a sudden, Khan was seen doing some acrobatics on the road. I couldn’t comprehend much. A car in front of him had taken a sudden sharp right into a petrol bunk and he almost rammed into it. Looks like ‘Lady Luck’ was riding pillion with Khan. She then shifted onto Thorappan’s bike. For, after a while, he along with his Duke was in the air for a few seconds after going over a brick lying on the road. The boys took a break to catch their breath after back-to-back scares.

We had lunch at the same place where we had stopped on our onward journey – the one that overlooked a two-storeyed house made of wood and bamboo. Having skipped breakfast, we were very hungry. One plate of momos which was ordered as a starter was followed by three more. Had there been more momos in the shop, the number would have been even higher. A plate each of spicy ‘Wai Wai’ noodles made it to the main course.

Post lunch, we descended at our own pace. Soon, Khan and Thorappan were pretty ahead of me. Mahesh was quite far behind as well. I switched to auto-pilot mode as my mind revisited our memorable moments in the mountains.

There was a slight traffic congestion on a bridge. Batman must have been in first or second gear then. A lorry in front of me braked suddenly and my nervous system responded immediately, but the messages sent out seemed to have got messed up. I was down on the road, Batman on top of me. The little blue water bottle that had been resting in my tank bag rolled away.

(to be continued…)