Disclaimer: The following document contains numerous and gross references to normal bodily funtions interspersed generously with philosophy and my outlook on life. I have warned you, if you find things not to your taste, you have only yourself to blame.
This travelogue is about the trip I took, along with Ayaskant Srivastava, Hetul Sanghvi and our three bikes. I was on a blue Pulsar with a blue helmet. Ayas was on a black Pulsar with a black helmet and Hetul was on a flaming, fiery red Pulsar with a flaming fiery red helmet. There could have been a fourth member in our gang, had colic not intervened.
The story begins on friday, 14th of January. I had had a HECTIC week and all I could think of was to lie in bed, have coffee brought to me and work my way through the humungous collection of unread books that I have managed to accumulate. Suddenly, Tapan calls. Now Tapan is Tapan Pattnayak, 2003 batch, LLR. He is a good friend and always planning some bike trip or another. Trips on which I have never been able to come along. He proposed that we make use of the three day weekend and go somewhere. I thought his idea was a day long bike ride and readily agreed. I heaved myself off the bed, cleaned up and jumped on my bike with a few essentials like a jacket, a camera and a bag.
I reached his place and we decided to call Hetul and Ayas and see if they were interested in joining in. They both readily agreed and came trooping up to his apartment full of plans.Half an hour after their entrance, the plans started to tend towards long range ones, like going to Madikeri (300 Kms away). Now since Madikeri is not next door, this would turn out to be a two day trip or even three day trip. After lots of heckling in which I protested about my inclinations of making my bed work hard during this weekend, it was finally decided to set off immediately as it was already noon and we expected to get to Mysore by nightfall.Ayas wanted to go home and get a few essentials, which included a walkie-talkie set with earpieces and a compass. God only knew what he would do with a compass on a straight road. Then Tapan intervened and discovered that the throughput of his digestive system had increased over the night. We advised him to pack a few bananas and come along but he decided that he needed to stay at home. Another round of heckling followed but who can argue with nature and its strange ways.....
We went and topped our machines up and collected some cash. Then we split our respective ways to pack and I agreed to meet at Hetul and Ayas' apartment. Tapan stayed on his balcony and waved us goodbye.
I threw a few things together and got to Hetul's apartment. There i found those estimable gentlemen in the throes of packing. Ayas demonstrated to me how his walkie-talkie worked and how to attach it to the helmet. I kept a set and he kept one. With that black stick strung on our ears, heavy back-pack and a helmet on the side, we looked quite like astronauts on a mission. Now we decided that either Ayas or I would stay in front while the other would bring up the rear, keeping Hetul in the centre. This way we would stay in radio contact and the whole group would stay together. All this planning takes a little time and when we FINALLY got going, it was 6:00 pm. So much for reaching Mysore by night fall!
It took another forty-five minutes to clear the murderous Bangalore traffic and we reached Bangalore Mysore road at quarter to seven.
Now a word of advice to anyone trying to get to Mysore from Bangalore on that road after nightfall. DONT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. The problem with that road is that its practically a one-way street. It has bus drivers plying on who ought to be jailed for attempting murder on an almost hourly basis. It has buses with extra high power headlights trained straight at you. It has engineers working on either the left hand side or the right hand side of the road who care nothing about slipped schedules and missed deadlines. Simply stated, I could figure out why NDA lost the election on the “India Shining” plank. The other problem was us. We woke up with the notion of keeping a minimm speed of 80. This kept our nerves on edge and we tired out easily. More on that later. We took our first break some 30 Kms from B'lore where we were politely told that Mysore was only 107 kms away. This did nothing good to our nerves. Night had fallen and we were nowhere near Mysore. We rode and rode and only God's hand saved us from running into each other or something else and getting ourselves killed. At 9:00 pm we decided that we had had enough. We passed a banner welcoming us to “Heritage City Mysore”. Ayas blew my eardrums by exulting on the walkie-talkie. After a little research, we figured out that we were still in Mandya. God only knows what that banner was doing there. Another half hour of riding later, we were furiously looking for a hotel. I walked into a wine shop and asked a guy with bloodshot eyes about the possibility of getting accommodation anywhere close. He muttered something and passed out. We kept riding. Another ten minutes later we ran into a rather luscious looking hotel. Hetul was not too keen and thought that that place would cost the earth. I thought i might as well go and check. So we parked our bikes and asked the guy at the reception. The prices we heard turned out to be quite reasonble. Hetul applied his bargaining skills to good use and got the price reduced even further. We jumped for joy. A big three bed room costing next to nothing. Just goes on to prove that we should always challenge our assumptions. We cleaned up and went dowstairs to an open air restaurant. There were ducks milling about and trying to go to sleep standing on one leg. I took a photo but sadly woke them all up. They quacked and figured out that that place would allow them no respite from these sneaky humans.
We ordered dinner and drinks. Ayas and I exchanged love stories while Hetul punctuated them with loud guffaws. Dont ask me about the stories I heard and told since i have forgotten them. We finally fell into bed at around midnight and decided to wake up at six the next morning.
As with all the best laid plans about waking up early, this one went for a toss. We woke up leisurely. While Hetul after lots of kicks and prodding stirred out and bathed, me and Ayas went to a tea stall outside. The view was breath-taking. A long road disappearing into nothingness on either end while the sun rose in the east. (We figured out the direction from where the Sun was rising using Ayas' compass, probably the only use it was put to during the entire trip.). While Ayas sipped his tea, I called up everyone I knew and got abuses in the bargain for waking everyone up at 7:00 am on a Saturday morning. Finally another hour later, we paid our bills and roared out.
After twenty minutes, we were out in the countryside. Then tragedy struck. We were passing over a canal. Hetul was in front and Ayas was right behind him. Hetul suddenly braked as he wanted to stop to take photographs. Ayas was also looking at the canal and ran right into him. I almost ran into this pile-up myself and stopped only few inches from Ayas's neck. Thankfully none of us was going over forty or otherwise we would have had major tragedy. What finally happened was only that Hetul's bike got damaged and Ayas got a few scratches. Of course for a few seconds I was badly shaken as pictures of me standing on the road and flagging furiously for assistance while Hetul and Ayas bled to death danced in front of my eyes. The villagers were VERY helpful and though we had to communicate using the skills we learnt in Inter-Hall Dumb Charades, we got enough communicated to tell them that we were immensely grateful and fine. Now we decided to take a break, have breakfast off the bread and butter packed with us and think about ways of patching up Hetul's bike. Inspite of the averted tragedy, we had enough gumption to realize that we had stopped at a very scenic place.
A village in the middle of nowhere. A canal with muddy water running through the village. The sun rising in the East. Cows mooing and farners going to work. While Hetul and Ayas furiously called Bajaj to get the address of the nearest service centre, I took a walk around and a few pictures, while munching on bread and butter and swigging “Real” fruit juice. Ayas used all the technology at his disposal, logged into google.com and tried to find the address of nearest Bajaj service centre but to no avail. Someone ought to tell them to keep such information online. A few calls later, we figured out that Mysore was some twenty kms away and that it had a service centre. We went to a village workshop where a small lad of twelve set the bike right in no time while three qualified IIT engineer gaped. So much for Workshop Technology!!
Since the bike was still in suspect condition, we decided to limit our speed to forty so that more damage did not come to Hetul's bike. I kept in front, Hetul stayed in the centre and Ayas came in last. This procession roared into Mysore at 10:00 am. Now i decided that riding slow was not too bad an idea after all. We went over canals, on the banks of ponds and other water bodies, in front of the Seringapatna fort all at forty. This put no stress on us and we could enjoy the scenery more. We asked directions right and left and by 11:00 am we found out the service centre we were looking for. The engineers there looked at Hetul's bike and told him to take an hour or two off. Now we were getting quite hungry and asked around for directions to a good restaurant. This was complicated by the fact that I wanted very badly to dig my fangs into a Chicken Biriyani. Both Ayas and Hetul are veggies. We asked around and got directions to a non-veg restaurant. When we arrived there, nature started calling most vigorously. I asked the waiter for the directions to a rest-room. He handed me a key and took me to a private toilet. I liberally splashed natures' offerings on the toilet seat. Then when I returned, it was Hetul's turn to go. He took the key and took half an hour to return. When he came back, he remarked that the toilet seat was quite wet and there was no paper to wipe it. I did not tell him the reason it was so. Anyway, while Hetul was busy with his ablutions, me and Ayas killed time by figuring out what to order. The menu gave me the jitters. If in a place you can buy a Chicken Biriyani for forty bucks, something is definitely wrong. On top of that, we were the only customers in the restaurant. Five minutes after we entered, the waiter turned on the fans and the music. I gave up my fixation for a Biriyani and settled for a veggi dish. We ordered two curries and a Dal. Five minutes after ordering, the waiter came back with an apologetic grin and told us that one of the curries was not available. Another five minutes later, the Dal was also not available. That was the last straw for Ayas and we walked out just as Hetul was bemusedly returning. We went to an adjacent restaurant and had very oily dosas. Our lunch over, we hunted around for a medicine shop to buy an antiseptic for Ayas's wound. That done, we returned to the servic centre.
Whle the technicians readied Hetul's bike, we started thinking about what to do next. Madikeri as an option was ruled out. It was 3:00 pm and getting there would take time and we did not want to risk going on mountain roads after dark. I was slightly inclined to return to B'lore as i had had a hectic week and i desperately wanted to sleep for atleast a day fully. Both Hetul and Ayas wanted to do something to salvage this trip. If we returned the same evening, to say the least, “Apna kat jayega”. One option presented was going to Bandipore which we thought was sixty kms away. I called up a colleague who told me that getting accommodation there would be problematic and expensive. Ayas said that even if we had to spend the night under the stars, it would be nicer to risk it than simply motoring to Mysore, having a bust up and motoring back. He seemed to be reasonable and we collected our bikes and took the Ooty road which goes to Bandipore. On the way we came across sign which politely informed us that Bandipore was eighty kilometers away and not sixty as we had previously assumed. We looked at each other, shrugged and went on.
After the accident, we decided that discretion was the better part of valour and resolved to go no faster than sixty and keep a lot of distance between each of us.
Now began the most glorious portion of our trip. The road from Mysore to Ooty is simply fantastic. A single road going round marvellous terrain with very little traffic. Then a very reasonable thought dawned on me. We were taking this trip by bike not only to enjoy the destination but also to enjoy the journey. Had we been simply interested in the destination, a bus ride would have been infinitely better as we would get there safer, faster and without getting tired out. Now if we want to enjoy the scenery on the way, the last thing to do would be to go at eighty. It stresses you out and everything whizzes by you that much more quickly. The good thing about going at sixty on an empty road is that though a quarter of your mind is occupied driving and another quarter in enjoying the scenery, the rest is all free and since you have time on your hands and can do basically nothing else, you have time to think about various things you never thought of earlier. Now I cannot say for the others, but I frankly do not take time out to think, relax and “smell the roses”. Its always something or the other that has to be done, some deadlines to be met, something.
I started to think about the way I have been leading my life. The continuous hurry that I am in, which makes me neglect my friends, family and myself. All I have been conerned about is work, goals and such like. I remembered how I disappointed my parents by not coming to see them on my Dad's birthday. How I have not seen my nephew and niece for over a year now even though they keep calling me up and asking when they could expect to see me. How when Saikat came to India, i could not see him and how I have not seen so many friends, Hari, Chiro, Kranthi, Chandan, Rohit, Arunima and so many others for God only knows how long. I remembered how I have been planning to simply take a few days off from work and go do something VERY relaxing, like cooking at home or curling up with a beer and a thriller without a care in the world. Promises promises!!! Aerosmiths lyrics came back to me,
“Life's a journey, not a destination”
We stopped during our journey to drink coconut milk from a road side seller. A few minutes and we were off again. Further down the road, the pressure started building up for me and Ayas. We stopped at a resort which offered toilets and frankly ran off our bikes while Hetul held his sides and laughed. I got into the lavatory and recoiled. Then I reminded myself that I had survived in IIT Kgp for four years. I could take anything thereafter. I got in one of the cabins, somehow latched the door and then let it all go. BLISS!!!!!
Outside after five minutes. Meanwhile Hetul was making inquiries about accommodation facilities near Bandipore. He was told that there were resorts very close to Bandipore where we could get accommodation easily and cheaply.
As we approached, Bandipore, it got dark. The sunset was glorious. We stopped in front of a field and took photos of the sun setting between the hills. Very beautiful. A few nuns came and looked inquisitively at us, three motor-cyclists with helmets, backpacks and ear-pieces.
Just as we were about to reach the resorts, we came across a hill. Now Ayas and Hetul wanted to do some trekking as well, so we parked our bikes on the road-side and climbed up the hill. It was full of prickly weeds and dense undergrowth. We climbed and climbed and fifteen minutes later, after a lot of scares and slips, we got to the peak. It was dark, we could see the lights of the resorts and could barely make out our bikes. The mountains looked glorious in the dying light. I'm afraid such a scene cannot be caught on camera, so all I can do is describe it to you in words. And if i were to try doing that, this travelogue would explode in terms of length.
We got down and got to the cluster of resorts. After a bit of haggling and asking around, we finally booked a room in one.
The resort was an ideal setting for a horror movie. An ill-lighted resort in the middle of nowhere. Very large with lots of vegetation. The receptionist was very depressed looking and he had a pack of ferocious dogs. Absolute and total silence punctuated with the howls of one or the other of his hounds. The cottage in which we were staying was quite lonely and again, ill-lighted. Hetul getting into his tracks and doing exercises. I half expected the power to be cut off and then with a long creak, the door opens.......
Hetul gave me a cuff and told me to think straight. We freshened up and went to the restaurant. There was a lady sitting there with (presumably) her husband. She looked at us and we looked at her. We took a table far away from her and loudly ordered whiskey. She paled, hurried through her snack and told the waiter to serve her dinner in her cottage. The married couple disposed off, we got royally drunk and started discussing our individual crushes at work. After drinks, we paced outside. The sky was full of stars. We do not see so many stars in the city because of the lights and the pollution, but here it was full of them. I saw millions, and I am not joking or simply saying it for effect. Millions of stars!
We turned in at midnight and fell promptly asleep.
Next morning, we woke at 7:00 am and made our way quickly to the national park. The sun was rising in the east, we were in the midst of forests and going on winding mountain roads. There was a lot of mist and the sun shone through it. The national park is on Karnataka, Tamil-Nadu border in the Nilgiri Hills. Looking at the wonder nature had begotten, we slowly made our way to the reception area. While Hetul got busy buying tickets for the Safari Bus, me and Ayas leched and ogled at a nice looking lady who apparently had come with her family. She felt our eyes and quickly returned our stares. A little self-consciously perhaps, but definitely enjoying the attention she got. The bus came, we got in. She also got in. She sat in front, we in the last row. Thus our safari alternated between looking at wild fauna outside and the wild thing inside. One tiresome gentleman kept making his views known about the .administration of the national park, the availability of the Tigers and other ferocious beasts and sundry other topics in which he assumed the whole bus was interested in. The safari though was indifferent in its luck. All we saw were deer and a langur. The forest was quite a sight though. The safari done, we eyed a goodbye to the lady and made our way to find something to eat. Now I have this thing about posting post cards to my family wherever I go. Postcards posted in the National Park premises have a distinctive post mark. So I went to the post office and cajoled the guy there for letting us have a few postcards. He whined about it being a sunday but he finally gave in and handed us a few of them. Then we went to a Police station and aske the guy there to lend us his pen. He did that very gladly and we all penned a missive to our respective families about motoring 250 kms and told them not to worry. Then we went to a hut and had delicious idlis.
We set off quickly for Bangalore as we had to reach B'lore before night fell. We started at 11:00 am and on the same speed we came, we started off. The journey to Mysore was quite uneventful and we made good time. We stopped once to have coconut milk and wandered off into a field where we gaped at a very large and deep pit dug in the ground by some industrious guy. It gave us ideas of the hunting pits dug in Africa for trapping animals. But since this was no Africa and there were no animals to be trapped, we could only guess that the pit had been dug for water.
We reached Mysore at noon or thereabouts, had a hefty lunch and then set off on the ring road to catch the road to Bangalore. After our experience with the Bangalore-Mysore highway, we decided we would take the Kanakpura road but we missed the turn and realized it very late. So we had to stick to the Bangalore-Mysore highway. The journey then became PAINFUL. The heat, the murderous drivers, the bad road, our steaming machines and above everything else, our horribly aching behinds,made the journey hell. Whoever wants to take a bike ride, should always choose his route very carefully so that there is not a lot of traffic to contend with and should never aim to do more than 150 Kms a day. That day, we did 250 Kms. We hit the higway at 2:30 pm and got to B'lore only by 8:00 pm. Five and a half hours of PURE HELL. We took quite a few breaks in between but it did ont help much. So much for wanting to have a quiet weekend!
When we reached B'lore, we just parked our bikes somewhere and went to a restaurant to have a burger. From top to toe we were covered in dust and grime. Its a wonder we were let in, in the first place! After a nice dinner, I motored down the final stretch to Marathahalli (where I live) at eighty. So much for my resolution to drive no faster than sixty! I daresay cities do this to you.
Few joys are greater than having a nice hot bath after such a day, finishing off a shot of whiskey and then going royally to sleep!!!!!
