Day 7: Rest in Delhi

After a week of continuous biking – often for over 10 hours a day – finally a day of rest. 

Choosing to rest for a day in Delhi proved beneficial. I discovered that the left side of the saddlebag was torn from the base. I got it fixed at the Sadar Bazaar at Delhi Cantt. My brother had made a hasty decision to accompany me in my ride further. Hence, he had a few stuff to buy, mostly to fight the bitter cold we were expecting. We both bought riding boots that reached well above the ankle and promised excellent protection against dust, rocks and water. 

I enjoyed a treat of chhole bhature, and later, matar kulche, something I don’t get to eat in Goa – some places do serve them, but they don’t taste as Punjabi as I like them to be.

The day flew by, and by evening, we made plans for an early morning exit from Delhi to reach Mussoorie well in time. We expected the heat to play the spoilsport and wanted to cover as much ground as possible while the air was still cold and the Sun, balmy. 

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Kicking off a little later than 5:00 am paid off. We crossed the busy roads while they were still sleeping. The main highlight was the long flyover immediately after Akshardham, which helped us fly past Ghaziabad. 

As we hit the main thoroughfare connecting Ghaziabad to Dehradoon and Mussoorie, traffic increased manifolds. All sorts of people, on all kinds of vehicles, ramshackle cars, imposing SUVs, horse carts, mopeds, and bikes, crowded the road. We found ourselves pushed off the road a couple of times, and had to negotiate pits and bumps and drains to keep moving. Google map suggested that we take a left turn, and traverse through a road running parallel to the Yamuna nehar (canal). We weren’t too sure initially, however, we were not also in the mood to travel on the horrible road amidst the chaos. 

The decision proved to be right. We could manage a speed of over 60 kmph, and the proximity of water kept us cool and in good spirits. 

We stopped at a wayside eatery for tea and some snacks. After the break, we pushed on, and after a few more kilometres, left the blue waters of Yamuna that flowed calm and serene at some spots and gushed angrily at others. We had left the Yamuna for the time being, but in the coming days, we were to accompany it almost till its origin!

The journey till Dehradun is nothing to remember about. Owing to major road construction work underway, we had a tough time moving ahead. It was mind-boggling, with all sorts of objects – from overloaded trucks menacingly blowing their horns and threatening to shove all and sundry out of the way. Not to mention the cars of all makes and sizes hell bent over breaking all driving rules to get ahead, while a swarm of two-wheelers just going about anywhere on the road!

Having struggled continuously under a hot sun for hours, we decided to break for lunch. Dehra was not far away, and Mussoorie was only 30 km away from Dehra. So, we had a lot of time to cool down and have an excellent meal – or so we thought.

After an hour-long break, we thumped on towards Dehradoon, and the road condition only worsened. To top it all, thousands of private and tourist cars were scrambling up from Dehradoon to Mussoorie; it was summer vacations for school children in Northern India, and Mussoorie is a hot-spot for local tourists.

To save you from a description of what we endured, I will only say that it took us over two hours to cover those 30 kilometres.

But by the time the Sun prepared its exit behind the lofty mountains, we were comfortably sipping tea and enjoying piping hot pakoras sitting on our hotel’s open terrace. The view from there was uplifting, and a cool zephyr coming up from high up in the hills proved to be alleviating to our sore limbs and tired minds.

Sniffing the delicious aroma of pakoras, two adorable pahadi dogs came to investigate. Extremely polite and gentle, these lovely creatures turned from hosts (they were the hotel owner’s pets) to guests, appreciating our hospitality one fritter at a time.

As the sky turned from the shade of molten gold to vermilion red to finally an all-devouring greyness, as the sunlight slowly ebbed away, I couldn’t help but think about the next day. It was undoubtedly a big day for me; I was hoping to meet Mr. Ruskin Bond. The author I loved, adored, and got maximum inspiration from. I had called the owners of the Cambridge Book Depot, the bookshop where Rusty came down for a couple of hours twice every month to sign copies of his books. I had made a few calls to the shop owners, explaining to them that I was planning a ride from Goa to meet Mr. Bond, and if it was possible. All they had to tell me was that it depended on Mr. Bond’s health, and of course, the weather.

At least, till that evening, the weather was beautiful and was praying for Mr. Bond’s good health, which I had been doing for some time now, quite inexplicably, and continue to do so even now. 

Jaipur to Delhi

I kicked off at 6:00 am, proud of myself for being able to start while the air was still cool.

My happiness, however, was short-lived as I realized that the bike was in reserve. On the open highway, no retreat was possible; and though I noticed a couple of petrol pumps fly past me on the opposite side of the road, none came forth on my side.

I cursed myself for being careless as visions of me dragging the bike for kilometres swarmed in my head. A silent prayer yielded the sight of an HP Pump – the first after several kilometres from Jaipur bypass. With a full tank, I was back in good spirits … only to be boggled by strange scrapings on the road. The highway had sections with long, narrow scrapings that sent the bike swaying and trembling dangerously for several kilometers. My heart was in my mouth as I controlled the bike from falling. From then on, I carefully avoided these menacing stretches, which was no easy task.

After a midway break, some 12 km from Neemrana, I continued non-stop towards Gurgaon, reaching my destination at around half-past ten. My decision to start early paid off and I managed to be indoors without getting a heat stroke.

I was upbeat and happy the next morning until I heard the receptionist praising me for braving 50 degrees C (temperature recorded in Godhra) on the bike. The previous day’s ride was tough, of course, but I had not known the temperature then. After hearing how hot it was, I couldn’t help but think about the day’s ride ahead of me.

Luckily, I started early, about a quarter to seven in the morning. This helped me to gain a reasonable distance until the time the day got uncomfortably hot. The knowledge that the distance to be covered was significantly shorter than the previous day gave me a little reason to cheer. I followed NH 8 (via Ajmer) to reach Jaipur. The highway is pretty good – nothing to complain. In fact, there were stretches where the road was gleaming, smooth, well-marked and sans traffic. One could literally glide through these roads, taking in the surrounding landscape, which is a bare expanse spotted with short dry shrubs and powdery, sandy soil.

But beware! Don’t get lost in the scenery as you may suddenly come upon a herd of cows, who take offence at being interrupted in their leisurely walks. As I wound a curve, I came up to two gorgeous looking cows (probably sisters as they had the same features) who looked visibly annoyed at being honked at. I could sense the disdain and contempt they had for me in their eyes, and without harrying them, I weaved my way forward. 

The dusty, sweltry and exposed landscape was reminiscent of the Wild Wild West. If you ride through these parts, you could very well imagine yourself as a cowboy on a steel horse, exploring the wasteland, testing your tenacity in the process.

The heat was intense, and again, I kept a lookout for wayside trees for taking a break from the Sun. Unfortunately, the wide, expansive highway had very little to offer by way of trees or any shade. At around 3:00 pm, I could bear the heat no more and stopped at a rather royal looking hotel with a restaurant. I chose the place because it had covered parking, and I wanted my bike to cool down. I was lucky to escape the hot wind or the dreaded loo (the fatal hot winds that blow through the Northern Plains, claiming many lives each year) just in time. The spacious, air-conditioned restaurant was nothing short of an oasis, albeit a man-made one. After washing, I sat down for a meal. Although, I wasn’t hungry, I decided to cool down and let the Sun mellow down a bit. Out of a whim, I asked them if they had Daal-Baati, and to my utter surprise, they were serving a Rajasthani thali complete with Daal Baati Churma and chaach!

I took my time nibbling on the scrumptious baatis, soaked in desi-ghee, and dipped in a palatable kadhi and daal. After a hearty meal, I geared up again for a final stop at the hotel; I was some 80-odd kilometres from Jaipur. 

The splendid meal and the warm gusts of air were making me drowsy, and the increasing traffic on the road made it. Nonetheless, meandering through the cacophony, I eventually made it to the Jaipur hotel well before sunset, and after a refreshing shower, plopped on the bed to make notes of the day.

For dinner, I was suggested by the hotel staff to try khada aaloo pyaaz sabzi. The dish was a simple preparation of potato and small, round onions, stirred together in whole red chillies, cumin and garlic, and sprinkled with all sorts of Indian spices. There was no great burst of flavour as I had expected, yet the simple dish was closest to a homely staple you could get in a hotel kitchen. And I was happy about that.

Next stop was Delhi, in fact, Gurgaon, at my brother’s place. The distance was hardly 270+, and I knew I would cover it in less than 5 hours, including breaks. 

Now, I had two options – start very early and reach Delhi before noon, or start late after catching a good night’s sleep and reach by evening. A sudden vision of miles of road sans trees, a belligerent Sun and mirages put my trust in the first plan.

Surat – Vadodara – Godhra – Udaipur

After a fitful sleep at the Surat hotel, I woke up groggily and unenthusiastically. However, I was aware that I had to cover almost 500 kms during the day, braving the intense, soul scorching heat. It was, half-past seven when I stepped out of the hotel, and took another 15 odd minutes to put on the saddle, check a few things, and put on my gear. Clearly, I was quite behind the Sun, which was fast traversing the clear blue skies in its journey to the Western hemisphere. The day had all the promise of being a fiercely hot one. I had another problem to face. Through a few blogs, I got to know that a stretch of NH 8 – from Vadodara to Ahmedabad, was blocked for bikers. The alternate route suggested was via Godhra.

Soon after entering Vadodara, the Google Maps suggested a route that took me off the highway, and to my surprise, alongside the Narmada Canal! To tell the truth, I didn’t expect that route to be correct. Google had proven to be extremely vicious on earlier occasions. I had been guided by that reassuring blue line through goat trails and slums and barren fields, for a promise of a faster, better route. Often, on such occasions, the good old human maps finally redeem you from your ordeal.

Well, riding along the sloping, cemented banks of the canal was not that bad after all! The wind was cooler, the tarmac was decent, barring a few innocent potholes here and there, and there was absolutely no traffic. There was not a single person on the way to confirm that I was going in the right direction. After accompanying the blue waters of the canal for what seemed like a long time, the map indicated that I must turn left. And I did. I spotted a few people sitting under an ominous peepal tree, talking leisurely, but I didn’t stop to ask the way as I was sure that the map would eventually lead me to a busy road.

How wrong was I? The map guided me to a dirt road that snaked through a hamlet, towards green fields in the distance.

Good sense prevailed and I retreated; this time stopping near the tree to ask about my way. The men directed me correctly towards the road that would take me straight to Godhra, and from there on, to my destination for the day, Udaipur.

The road that raced through Godhra was smooth, mostly straight and devoid of heavy traffic. However, maintaining a yielding speed for a long time was out of the question as the route was interspersed with busy town and village crossings, and even more annoyingly, speed breakers that sprang up frequently – a real danger to an unsuspecting rider.

The heat intensified as I progressed on my journey. Usually, I avoid eating lunch while riding, and in the rising heat, it seemed like a good idea to avoid lunching at any roadside establishment. The roads seemed unending, and the blazing Sun unrelenting. That day’s ride taught me how the fire-breathing Sun drains out energy from you. The time between 12 pm to 4 pm was the worst. I took several breaks during this time. I felt the heat rising from the ground, passing through the metallic body of my bike and rising up to my head. Sometimes, I got lucky and found shade under a puny little babool tree or a benign gulmohar. There were times when I could not spot a single tree, under the shade of which I could relax and cool down, even for a few minutes. These short breaks were necessary because I felt delirious and totally exhausted.

At 3:00 pm, I arrived at a busy junction of some town. It was mostly a cluster of shacks selling a variety of things – from fruits to paan to sweets to groceries. I made a pit stop there and quickly took off my gear – feeling a hundred pairs of eyes staring at me. I knew people couldn’t wrap their heads around the idea of wearing a heavy jacket in such heat.

Finding a little stool, I asked for a bottle of cold water. I accompanied my drink with local gram flour fritters, which were served with a sweet kadhi-kind of a chutney. The chutney was too strange for my taste buds but the fritters were familiar and reassuring. I took my time to cool down and gain some strength at this unplanned pit stop. This particular shack was wonderfully cool under the blanket of a magnificent peepal tree. My body rested and spirit recharged, I trudged off to scale the last leg of my journey – convinced to do it in one go.

However, merely half an hour later, I found myself dragging my heat-bitten body to a wayside A/C restaurant. The restaurant was closed for lunch (that’s my little joke), and a few staff present there were watching a South Indian movie dubbed in Hindi. I had to order something, so I ordered tea. I had already drunk a couple of soft drinks during the day and was not in a mood for another. A tea-lover, I like my cup of tea – Desi style – with all the jazz in it; milk, ginger, cardamom. The tea took some time to prepare, and I wasn’t complaining. I was in no hurry. I knew that in a few hours, I would be romping on a cozy bed with the A/C at full blast. Again, how wrong I was.

The last stop was a good decision, while I got the much-needed rest, the Sun, sliding Westward, had grown a bit mellow. As a result, going ahead was far easier. Without a single break, I continued to scale the distance to Udaipur, appreciating – for the first time during the day – the landscape around me. A smooth, inviting road ran through a rocky, barren landscape with an occasional cluster of short babool trees or dry shrubs. In spite of lack of vegetation, the landscape was far from appearing dead. In the early evening of the day, the scenery seemed to have a character of its own. The short, rolling hills in the distance looked like soft bubbles in the hot evening haze. I couldn’t help but think of the glory, devotion, and pride attached to this very land! If you look far in the distance, it is not hard to imagine a strong army of a mighty Raja swelling up over these bubble hills with an ambition to conquer a stronghold or a fortress. Chants of Har Har Mahadev and Jai Maa Kaali resonating and reverberating in the air. People who killed and laid their lives for pride, for glory, for their motherland.

Weaving my way across slow-moving trucks loaded to maximum capacity, I kept inching towards my sojourn for the day. Before the city, came its reflection. I spotted several buildings on either side of the road designed in the likelihood of a fort. I crossed a few resorts and hotels before halting at the point where the road bifurcated in two, one going inside the city, the other towards Delhi.

I had stopped to ask my way around the hotel. Unfortunately, my phone’s battery had died – the charging wire was apparently not working. My mobile charger attached to the mobile holder fixed on the bike’s handle was working fine.

The problem was, I had not copied down the hotel address anywhere and entirely relied on my phone.  I only remembered the name of the hotel, and I hoped that someone would recognise it and could direct me towards it. But that was a foolish wish. I was in Udaipur – a place that has its name on the world map of tourism. There must be hundreds of hotels and once couldn’t expect locals to know which one was where. So, finally, I found a mobile selling shop – which is not difficult in any city, town or village in today’s time – and purchased a new charger. I took the time to charge my phone at the shop, and once it was adequately charged, I fixed it back on the bike’s mobile charger. I could use Google Maps now and was glad for it. It so happened that the hotel was at the end of the city, bang on the NH 27. If I had continued on the NH8, I would have reached my hotel in minutes. But it was destined that I suffer heavy, uncoordinated traffic, cutting through the busiest roads and markets to reach the hotel.

Finally, I reached the hotel, designed in the likelihood of a fetching palace. The room was spacious and well adorned. I ordered Mewadi Gatte and Missi Roti and some buttermilk to wash down the meal. After a hearty meal, I slept like a baby. The day had finally worn off me, and I could rest. The thought itself was delicious.

Riding never ceases to be fun on South Goa roads. Long, twisting tracks of smooth asphalt, lined with coconut and palm trees behind which stands in bright hues, the lovely Goan homes – promises an uplifting ride at any given time in the day.

Naturally, now that South Goa is my home, I rarely miss an opportunity to cruise through these lovely roads, crisscrossing tiny villages and canals and green fields on my way to nowhere.

Of all the lovely places I had been to in South Goa, the bridge connecting Cavelossim and Assolna is my most favourite haunt.

Devoid of heavy traffic, this long bridge over the Sal river is an ideal place to park your bike at the side and simply soak in the view it offers. What’s more, this remarkable bridge also has a pretty wide sidewalk on both the sides. You may walk or simply gaze down the river or look at the green rolling hills in the horizon standing here.

Completed in 2013, the 620 m long bridge is indeed an engineering marvel and a great convenience for the locals. Besides dissolving distances, the bridge is fast becoming an ideal evening getaway for the people living in nearby areas, most of them riding down to the bridge to catch up with friends, before trudging on to their destinations.

Here’s a 360-degree view around the Cavelossim – Assolna bridge

For me, it is the perfect place to soak in the splendour of nature – the wide Sal dotted with tiny green islands, ready to meet the Arabian Sea, the small fishermen hamlets, the stout green hills in the distance and a convocation of eagles circling, swooping and gliding, forever looking for a fresh catch.

 

 

Well, as the long-running celebrations of the festive season comes to a halt and you focus on planning an ideal year for yourself and your family, it may be the right time to figure out which all destinations would you scale on your precious bike.

Would it be the misty mountains or the scorching deserts or the beautiful coastal belt? Whatever may be your answer, let’s celebrate the fact that our beautiful country offers all imaginable riding terrain!

Ladakh Calling

While many bikers have conquered Leh & Ladakh on their steads, it is still a distant dream for many. The reasons are many; first of all, the ride requires good 15 to 20 days of holidays from work – an unimaginable feat for many of us, second, the trip and its prep costs you a pretty sum, and last but not the least, the coveted ride is full of risks and perils. Having said that, a road trip to Ladakh is a must-do for any biker – and it is indeed worth all the trouble and expenses.

The Scorching Desert

Riding solo on an unending strip of road flanked by dunes is something I would like to do this year. The Great Indian Desert, Thar and the Rann of Kutch are ideal for a soul-searching ride amidst moving sand-dunes and howling winds. However, the key to enjoying such a trip is in the preparation. The cruel arid region with insanely hot days and mind-numbing nights would pose a significant challenge to all the riders. A meticulous itinerary for the desert trip would prove to be more than a convenience; it can save you a hell lot of trouble.

Monsoon Rides

Riding in the rain is a pleasant experience, many would agree. I find riding in the rain blissful. Ah! Meandering through hill roads as a constant drizzle makes everything so fresh and new – the experience is unparalleled. While many stay away from riding during the monsoons, rightly fearing the enhanced perils on the road, if proper precautions are taken, monsoon rides can be enjoyed without any glitches or untoward incidents. A good quality rain gear and a helmet with a scratch-free visor can be the difference between a horrendous and a joyful journey. If you are pondering over a monsoon ride, you have many options including Goa to Kerala on the West Coast, Meghalaya in the North-East and Tamil Nadu on the Eastern Coast. If you do not have enough days to plan a long ride, simply head out of your city on an overcast day to make your monsoon ride memories.

Chasing the Wildlife

Besides an amazingly diverse topography, our motherland is also home to some of the most exotic and rare wild animals. Watching lions and tigers and indigenous birds and animals in their natural habitat is a treat we might not be able to enjoy forever. Turning wildlife sanctuaries as biking destinations can be a rewarding idea. A trip to a wildlife reserve would invariably give you a diverse riding experience as you would cruise through national highways and tiny hamlets and even dirt tracks to reach your destination. Again, good research on suitable accommodation, pitstops and wildlife sanctuary’s guidelines would save you time, money, and yes, a lot of frustration.

Whatever may be the reason or the destination of your road trip, strive to go prepared, ride responsibly and make sure you come back with a chest full of memories and stories.

Do you have your 2018 Biking Destinations ready? Share your trip plans and suggestions and let all the readers get to know about unheard paradises and roads less travelled.

 

It sounds bizarre, really, but long-distance biking is no less an insightful journey of the soul as it is of the body.

Vipassana is a form of meditation that allows you to see the reality as it is. As you go deeper into Vipassana, you erase the duality of your existence – mind and body; till, in the end, you learn the concept of impermanence – the ultimate truth that nothing is permanent in this life.

While most people practice Vipassana in a quiet surrounding, sitting at a spot for hours, it can be achieved, albeit partially, amidst the constant rumble of your bike as you whiz past electric poles and houses and fields and hills.

The Quietness of Thought

When the air sings in your ears and the machine roars like a beast, silence seems like a misplaced phenomenon. But the truth is that, while riding miles after miles, amidst all the din and clatter, your mind finds a luxurious quietness. As if, the rumble of the machine, shrill honks of the heavy vehicles and the cry of the wind, as you cut through it, all form a background for the resonating silence. With the current thoughts turning silent, you suddenly feel truly mindful of your surroundings. You see the reality as it is!

The Stillness of Being

Yes, you race from town to town, chasing your destination on two wheels and a will so resolute, yet, your body remains almost still. Just like practising Vipassana under a verdant tree, you experience the stillness of your being. Soon, you feel the individual existence of body and mind blurring, giving way to a single entity – you could be a well-functioning body or a formless idea.

The Journey Through Memories

As the duality of being ends, the quietness of thoughts and stillness of the being gives way to a flurry of long forgotten memories and half-formed thoughts. In this stage of seeing things as they are, you see past incidents and wandering thoughts in a new light.

‘Eureka!’ You might hear yourself screaming while riding past a herd of cattle, into a calm, orangish sunset, finding the solution to a problem you had been struggling to solve for a long time.

For me, it is not just the adventure or the opportunity to explore my manifested world that attracts me to long-distance biking. It is the possibility of looking within and connecting with the cosmos to find new ideas, solutions and inspirations that drive me to undertake journeys, which many find wasteful.