Khanabadosh - A beautiful Sufi word meaning one who carries his house on his shoulders. One who doesn't get rooted, his feet does not get planted.
Mirza Ghalib said 'Sair Kar Duniya ki Ghalib, Yeh Zindgani Fir Kahan....Zindgani Rahi Bhi Agar ... Yeh Naujawani Fir Kahan...
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Sunday, August 15, 2010

A mechanic, a cup of coffee, a story and a question

I am sitting at a mechanic's shop to get my bike repaired from a mechanic (a mechanic ''by choice and not by need) named Nandan. While the assistant fixes a few nuts and bolts, I ask him to join me for a cup of coffee at the shop next door. He politely agrees. Prolixity is not alien to us in India and we start talking. While chatting he tells me an impressive story.

Here it goes ....

Once upon a time, there lived a king in a small kingdom. The king had a pet Dog named Tommy. The king loved Tommy a lot and Tommy loved the king a lot. They both just could not live without each other. There wouldn't be a single day when the king would skip Tommy's evening walk. There would be 3 servents to clean after Tommy. No matter what the kingdom has to eat, Tommy would always get the best of the meat. Even if there is a draught in the kingdom, Tommy would get the best to drink and his evening fresh water swim. There would be the best, only branded stuff for the dog to wear.....smallest details like the hair brush would be taken care of with great attention.
One day the king comes home in the evening and he is upset about something, may be he had lost a war with nearby kingdom or may be he had a fight with the queen. Upon seeing the king coming, the dog ran towards him wagging his tail and hanging his tounge, the king kicked the dog hard and that's it, the dog went flying for a few meters and hid under a bed for the rest of the day. He didn't dare to come out.

In the same kingdom there was another dog, a stray dog, he gets to eat if someone has offered him food, gets loved if someone plays with him, he gets to drink if there is some water alongside the road or near a water tap. He gets wet when it rains, gets scorched in the sun on a sunny day, shivers when it's cold.


and at the end, he asked me a question.....Which dog would you choose to be??

Saturday, August 14, 2010

The trap ....a little philosophy ...

Sometimes...answers come from the most unexpected places.
This time it was from a story about a monkey and a hunter, I was reading for my niece.

Ever wondered how they catch monkeys in madhya pradesh's jungles?? Easy....they tie a glass bottle to a tree and keep some peanuts inside it. The neck of the bottle is just enough for the monkey's hand to go in. The monkey comes and while trying to get to the peanuts, he puts his hand inside and grabs the peanuts. But alas...the bottleneck is not wide enough for the fist to come out ... Its just wide enogh for the empty hand to come out. However, the greed of this little extra peanut is so much that he just cannot let go of it.
He sees the hunter coming to catch him but still, he doesn't let go of it. He sees him getting more and more closer and screams and shouts but doesn't let go of it. He knows he will be imprisioned for life...but still ......... He knows everything but just can't get to the idea that he has a choice ...he can leave the peanuts.

It just reflected upon me that this is how most of us are nowadays. No matter what ... We don't leave the fistful of peanuts, and our peanuts are in the form of white collar job, greed for money, status and luxury, relationships....and what not......
I see my job doesn't allow me time for anything else, including the much needed time for the loved ones, but no, I can't settle for a lesser paid job which would allow some time.
The car I drive gives me back-ache but I am consious about my status and would never travel by a metro train or the local.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Rode to heaven ... Through hell-Day 13

We get up early and start riding in rain itself.
At about 9 we stop and a dhaba to have breakfast. Our bikes are parked outside and an innova stops by, a sardar driver comes out of the innova and looking at the bikes asks 'where are you coming from'?
From Leh, I reply.
Oh great, lucky guys, he exclaims.
Yes, lucky that we got a chance to do this trip, we smile, and reply.
Oh no, not lucky that way, but to have come alive, he said with strange look on his face.
Why?? It's not so difficult, we reply looking at each other with looks saying ''sardar paagal hai kya'??.
Now, the sardar says, ohh, so you don't know the news. Leh had a cloud burst yesterday and hundreds have died, there were flashfloods that washed away everything....
WHAT??? We stare at each other and then stare at the sardar who is smiling now at our innocence.
What just happened?? We escaped death again....narrowly ...

Worried about our fellow riders and with a really weird mix of feelings we left this place and called our homes to inform them we were safe and out of Leh.

We could not reach Delhi the same day because of rains and bad weather.
Stayed overnight at some place after jalandhar and by next day afternoon we were at Delhi.

Finally at home I say to myself .... ''this was definately a ride to heaven and back .... Through hell'' .... I recall reading somewhere a scripture from Buddha ... The way to heaven is through hell ... I stand as a testimony to it today....

Bus yun samajh lije....ek aag ka dariya hai aur doob ke jaan hai .... Jo nikla so doob gaya...aur jo dooba so paar ....

Rode to heaven ... Through hell-Day 12

Lazily we get up after sleeping for 12 hours in the damp tent, there is loud devottional music blaring out of lodspeaks everywhere, somehow my experience with all the hindu devotional pilgrim places has been very bad, they are all filthy, crammed and people have no civic sense, be it haridwar, rishikesh, tirupathi, kumbh or this amarnath. We go out and again have free tea and biscuit.

In some time we are informed that the next convoy will leave in some time and lot of empty buses have arrived at night to take away the stranded passengers. We prepare our bikes and load the luggage and stand in the front for the convoy.

In a few minutes, there are three army trucks full of ammunition clad fierce looking overtired soldiers with their guns pointed outside in front of us. A few civil vehicles and then again a fully loaded truck of Army, this was to escort us safely through Srinagar....or not as we discover later!!!!
Riding slowly behind the army convoy we reach srinagar's border when we are stopped and vehicles seperated for jammu and for srinagar airport. This takes time and we finish our free lunch at a langar nearby in the meantime.
Post lunch, we are asked to follow the army trucks again and these will lead us through srinagar to jammu. The situation did seem extremly delicate with army present on both sides of the road. With the 'shoot at sight' words in mind it appeared even worse, good news was, the army was informed about the yatri movement and those roads which see yatri movement were guarded heavily but the sight of millions of soldiers with guns in their hands is scary.
We follow the convoy for some time and suddenly realize there is no army truck in front, shit!!! Where did they vanish!! Now, we didn't know which way to follow and we knew that only the highway To jammu is safe, but which is the highway, all roads look the same...other roads have strict orders. What followed was a mad rat race to cross srinagar, driving at no less that 80 and 100 we scurried through the streets and scared, tensed but sure thrilled, after 3 hours of riding came out of the 150 kms curfew affected area.....ohh man....what a relief it was to cross Jawahar tunnel, one that seperates kashmir and jammu.

We could not reach Jammu as we had planned due to heavy rains and landslides, we stayed at patnitop, 100 kms before Jammu.

FW: Rode to heaven ... Through hell-Day 11

Today with lot of apprehensions we start for Srinagar.

On the way we pay our homage to the braves at the Kargil war museum and witness the tiger hill and the war zone.
Crossing zojila we see the base camp of amarnath yatra and get allured by the free food and get drifted towards the parking.
We eat free lunch amidst Anup Jalota, Hari Om Sharan and Jagjit Singh and other confectioners, all of them simultaneously droning out from several different cassete players and load speakers. At one occasion I hear a devotional remix of the song ''choli ke peechey kya hai''.

As we return, a news awaits us, we are now part of the yatri crowd and can't leave without the army convoy and nobody knows when the next convoy will leave.

Agitated to the core we try convincing the CRPF, Army and the JK police but our requests fall on deaf ears and we come to know there is a 'shoot at sight' order issued in Srinagar and hence they are not allowing anyone cross it.

Unwillingly we convince ourself to stay here at the base camp until the next convoy leaves, it rains the whole day and we are confined to the small tent we have rented out.
The only fun comes from the free food and delicasies that are offered to the yatris, of which we are one now.
In evening, warming myself by an open tandoor, a yatri starts to chat with me, he complains about the high rates of the tents here which are managed by muslims(as this place has muslim local population). Automatically the topic changes from expensive tents to muslims and later from muslims to VHP and later from VHP to killing all muslims. These so called yatris, wear rudraksh, chant ram-ram, visit temples, abhor meat and alcohol but conceal murder in their heart. I wanted to ask him if he knew that the amarnath shrine was found by a muslim, but I stop myself.

We relish on free delicasies like jalebi, pakodis, poori, ras malai, aloo tikki, moong daal halwa and barfi and sleep under the blaring noise of Anuradha Podwal, Anup Jalota and all other T-Series folks.

FW: Rode to heaven ... Throuag hell-Day 10

Yesterday's adventure was too much on the body and I am also sufferring from flu. I am surviving on paracetamols and combiflams since last 2 days, thankfully the body is strong enough to take the roughness.
We have to decide which route to take to get back to Delhi, some say take the route via Manali but the road is bad and continous rains have caused frequent landslides and overflowing rivers, the streams we had crossed must have swollen into full fledged rivers by now.
Others say we take the srinagar route to see the beauty that side but then srinagar is on curfew.
We decide to take the Srinagar route, god knows for what reason.
For today we reach Kargil and stay there.

Riding dry for the first time seems blissful. Crossing the moonland like
Landscape we reach kargil by the evening and stay at a lodge.
Dinner on Akarsh's suggestion is at a maniac sardar's dhaba. A strange guy, he is an army retired, taunts you on everything, you sit down to eat and he says 'don't face that side'. You pick the glass and he says, use the other hand, you start to eat and he says 'did you wash hand', you wash hand and he says, wash it for minimum 20 seconds, you push your chair and he says 'you have blocked the pathway', you lift the water jug and he says....the list is never ending. We were briefed about this by Akarsh earlier and hence were having fun looking at each other.

FW: Rode to heaven ... Through hell-Day 9

We get up fresh and head towards pangong tso, a 125 kilometers long saltwater lake in the himalayas which spreads from India to Tibet to China. It is a clear symbol of natures craftmanship.

Virgin crystal blue water like a veil on a gorgeous fairy's face, with clouds hanging in sky like small angels of the fairy, tall mountains guard the fairy from everyone and slowly the lover sun, fighting against the mountains, starts slowly to gaze at the fairy's face, sun's rays hit the surface and reflect and the fairy as if blushing and shying from the sun's rays the changes colours from orange in early morning to greenish turquoize to deep blue and then for a few hours they remain as one, as a witness to this eternal love a seagull flies past and sits and pecks at a stone on the bank.
Again, no amount of words can describe the beauty of this lake.
We spend a few hours at the lakeside and drive back to Leh and spend the night here.
At night I wonder how the lake would look like on a full moon night and resolve to spend a night next year at the lake. I am sure fairies descend at night here and dance and make merry.

FW: Rode to heaven ... Through hell-Day 8

A few birds chirp outside my tent and as I come out, I see butterflies all around, red one's, green one's, the customary yellow with black patches,small one's, big one's ....ahhhh jannat....(aahhh heaven)....
We plan to go to pangong tso today ...the famous lake with its pristine blue waters. The map on Lonely Planet book says we have to cross khardungla and go towards Leh and then head towards changla and to pangong tso but a trekking map says there is an alternate route via Agam and Wari la, which will save us 100 kms. Upon enquiring from army we get to know that the road was built but has been washed away by river shyok. We ask army if they would help us in crossing it and are informed of dire consequences.

Anyways, determined as we were, we plan to take that route no matter what. We are six and can handle anything. Thanks to the indian mentality,'fati bhi hogi to friends ke beech mein nahi dikhatey hain ki fati hai'.

As soon as we start towards Agam we realise what we have decided to get into, no roads and no habitation for kilometers together. nobody, including vultures would know if we died here. There are no signs of roads at many patches and there are free flowing water streams everywhere, some of them are easy to cross like potholes and some are so huge and furious we all have to hold one bike at a time with full strength and cross while keeping ourself stable and forgetting about suffering hypothermia or severe cold feet.
Crossing these water streams, finding our way just by maps and crossing another horrfying high altitude pass Wari la where even the army has abandoned it's post due to the weather and less oxygen we reach a village Shakti from where we are told pangong tso is about 85 kms. After the gruelling and almost killing ride (or call suicide attempt) we reach Tangste about 40 kilometers from pangone tso.
We spend the night here as the sun has set.
Reflecting on the day I realize I should be thankful for being safe and a major thank shall go to Chavi(my bike) for sustaining through.

Rode to heaven ... Through hell-Day 7

Recovering from the altitude sickness but suffering from flu now, today we leave for khardungla and nubra valley.
Eating a quick breakfast we started towards khardungla which is the highest motorable road in the world, its at 18700 feet above sea level. At this level the oxygen is so scarce the motorcycle like a bullet has difficulty negotiating the steep climb in first gear. I fiddle with the carburator to let in more air in the engine. With full throttle and quarter clutch, burning the clutch plates we somehow manage to touch. khardungla and congratulate ourself for the torture finally being over. But was it??? Downhill was even more torture.
Sitting behind Abhishek and falling twice, once in water and once on rubble, we reach at the bottom hill of khardung la.
Surviving solely on paracetamols we continue riding through amazingly beautiful and slowly changing landscape. From snow clad mountains we descend towards river bed plains and get into giant red colour canyons and again into river bed greenery and as if out of 'aliice in wonderland' enter desert, desert like real rajasthan desert in the mid of himalayas, from yaks, the traditional animal changes to double humped black camels.
By night 8 we are at Khalsar in the Nubra valley. One bike has gone missing but we are able to find it after a little effort.
We stay at tirith camp, the most beautiful camping site I have ever seen in my life. A little expensive but right out of heaven, our tent is surrounded by exotic wild flowers of the himalayas and the camp is surrounded by snow clad mountains which shimmer gold at sunrise. The area where we dine is a small canopy of trees and apricots and apples fall from the trees. So many of them that people here don't bother to pick them, I pick plenty of them and eat till I am satisfied.
At night we all jumble up and share jokes and I take my last paracetamol for the day and am off to sleep.

Rode to heaven ... Through hell-Day 6

Reaching Leh we meet the 6th member of the group, Goldy, who has taken a flight to Leh due to the social pressure from his family considerate of the dangers involved in a motorcycling trip.
Goldy is an amazing guy with great sense of humour, you just love his company and his wit comes alongwith his caring nature. Just looking at this guy makes you smile, dressed in a green pullover and a denim jeans, he is a slightly plump, red cheeked guy similar to Vinay Pathak (a little more plump) from the movie 'khosla ka ghosla', a shy smile, hairstyle of Amir Khan (a little more hairy) from taarey zameen par and torso like Abhishek Bacchan(a little more in inches).

We plan to get the bikes serviced today for the days ahead. Sadly there is a strike due to hike in petrol prices and we have to push the trip to the mechanic to evening. With time in hand now we take a leisure walk to the shanti stupa, a time capsule with sealed scriptures for the future generations.
Back from stupa we head to the mechanic back on the road towards manali, I became extra carefull while overtakiing busses, I didn't want someones lunch over me as I had seen happening with a fellow rider.
With the bikes fixed, we head back to the hotel room and sleep.
Today was just a laid back day.

Rode to heaven ... Through hell-Day 5

With severe headache I get up and start the bike and move on. Again at this place we ran out of money and begged from a fellow group a 1000 rupees to pay for the accomodation.
The day has been most easy compared to the journey so far. Just a easy ride and by afternoon we were at Leh.
The road was good and the scenary just out of heaven. The scenary changes slowly from plains to hills to canyons around, the sky looks pure blue with pure white clouds scattered around. The land is barren but the soil has so many colours in it, from dark red it changes to shiny silver hinting the presence of mica in it, to purple like brinjal to brown to black to sometimes greenish....amazing work by god.... No amount of words can describe the beauty here. It can only be felt by one, specially by those who have for some time left behind the frantic hankering for wealth, fame, status and all other adman's fantasies and are unabashed in their love for life, travel and nature.
Occasionally one comes across villages, small old houses with slopy roofs, trees encircling the boundry, the courtyard shining bright orange with corn kept to dry outside, chinese looking faces, yaks, cows, shepherds, women carrying firewood on their backs, children with sunburnt cheeks playing alongside the roads, wheat fields, such laid back life, they have nothing to do with the outside world, they are self 'content', they have nothing but still everything...they are so different than us, we the up-market crowd in our Levis t-shirts, Woodland shoes, Wrangler jeans, Jockey briefcases.

I am especially touched by the Gaddis, the local shepherds. Their nomadism bemuses me. These short, colourfully dressed, benign-looking shepherds are on their way to home and just 4-5 months, they will be out again, winters in the valley, summers in the high passes and this has been their routine for centuries, embodying an old forgotten idea of content. Leading a simple and 'Happy' life.

Leh on the contrary is like any other hill station in India. It has nothing to be written about and I am definately not hurting my thumb punching details about this place on my cell phone writing this blog. No wonder almost every traveller uses this place just as a transit point to the places nearby.
Oh yes... I haven't told you... all this while I wasn't riding the bike but sitting behind a lunatic speedster named Akarsh(I hope he is reading this)....I have reached Leh in one piece and no amount of self congratulation seems enough for this.

Rode to heaven ... Through hell-Day 4

The mechanic took a grueling 6 hours yesterday...no,no...not on the bikes, but to wait for the turn. Eventually I had to fix half the bike myself. I realized, The route is a killer and almost 10 bikes at the mechanic shop had only 2 problems, worn out clutch plates and disc brake pads.

Thanks to the mechanic and the weather(it's cold and one doesn't feel thirsty), I get up with a hangover sort of headache. I drink a lot of water and take a tablet to avoid altitude sickness as we will be gaining a lot of altitude today.
Looking at the sky brings some relief and a smile, it's sunny.

A fly hovers around my cup of tea, a begger begs next to me, with one hand I shove away the fly and with other hand make a roll of my parantha and push it down my throat. My rubber gum boot bites me at 2 places and I imagine my feet having blisters like Karishma's on the saurkundi trek.

We are informed that the bridge has collapsed but the BRO (border roads organization) has repaired the road somehow to allow traffic to pass. There is a stream of water about 2 feet high to be crossed to continue towards Leh.

For next few hours it's only nice roads, dry weather and the thud-thud of bullet.
There are many bad patches of roads that we cross, mainly the pain is water crossing where you cross water streams of high speed flowing water about 2 feet high and 10 to 20 meters wide.

We are joined by another british couple who occasionally need our help at the water crossings.

Our target for today is Pang and by 8 pm we are just about 10 kilometers away from it when we see there is a patch of road about 20 meters wide washed away by water. There is a whole river flowing where a few hours ago used to be a road. I try to step in to see how deep the water is and am almost swallowed by the river. The water is only knee deep but the flow is so fast I can't stand there for a second. The water is super super super cold and terrible fast flowing and if this was not all, we are at 15000 feet and oxygen is scarce. Ever blown at an ant sitting on your hand and itching you???? We felt like that....We have just 2 options, cross it risking life or die here of hypothermia.
We park our bikes on this side and form a human chain and one step at a time cross the stream heavily panting and thanking ourself we are alive.
Now all 5 of us grab 1 bike with full force at a time and with slow and firm feet cross the river stream, come back, take the second bike(which almost fell off), come back take the third bike (and everytime my gum boots get filled with ice cold water and I empty them again and again and cry with pain from cold) and this whole process takes half an hour and my feet are numb. They are so numb I can't feel them(those who did saurkundi trek with me will understand) and request my t-shirt to be burnt with petrol to get some heat, unfortunately the match box is wet and the lighter doesn't work due to lack of oxygen...ggrrrhhhh.....I scream out at god for few minutes....
Half dead I reach Pang and like god was listening to my painful groan, there is a stove lit outside the tent we plan to live in. I warm my feet and since I can't feell them, I actually end up burning them a little....
Dinner and sleep, forget about them ..the lack of oxygen is working on us, almost all of us feel all the symptoms of altitude sickness.....including the bikes.... The combustion inside the bikes is half done and this has reduced the bullets to a mere hero-puch at this altitude.
I sleep but with cold feet and difficulty in breathing.

Rode to heaven ... Through hell-Day 3

Naggar is a small silent town, I have loved my stay here. It's a little off the map for Indian tourists and one finds mostly foreigners here. Thankfully there are no honeymoon couples, no mall road, no fast food joints, no beggers, no roadside stalls selling shiny trinkets, no glass boxes marked STD-ISD-PCO, no raunchy posters of third grade movies.

It has been raining non stop for last 24 hours, Harish, our local friend says it has never rained so much here, I blame it on the global warming.
It's about 4 in the morning and we have to leave now to reach the desired destination by sunset.
We are now 5 people on 3 bikes.
With sleep deprived and rum rich red eyes we start our bikes and start riding through rain, fog, slush and wind and to add to the irony, Bryan Adams is singing in my ears ''the summer of 69''. There are apple trees like weed here, Almost every 30 seconds I see an apple fallen on the road and want to pick it but nobody else stops.

We plan to reach Sarchu today.

Driving at this time is a pain and like 'cream on my cappuchino', I have 'water inside my jacket'. I have only heard from people about the road to rohtang pass and it sure sounds scary, I will experience it first hand today.

Riding through rain and fog and bad roads we reach a little before Rohtang pass and see trafic piled up. Guess what!!!! There is a land slide and we see a whole hill slowly sliding down in parts on the road ahead. naaahh...if you thought we would stop here.... You are wrong. Like idea out of emptied bottle of whisky, 2 of us decide to stand on either side of the landslide and signal the bike riders to cross in a jiffy to avoid falling rocks. This done, we start again but the road is pure hell now. Imagine this, get one truck load each of water, loose gravel, mud, large rocks, cow dung and some sharp stones and you are asked to ride through this and not just this, on one side you have a deep gorge waiting for you. This was the sort of road we got.
Abhishek has had some 4 falls in just 3 hours of riding. The road is bad and the bikes are taking a toll because of the altitude and the roads or better say 'no roads'.
Ruchir had no idea before starting from Delhi that the trip will be like this and he is extremly unhappy but haa to stick-on with us now. He says .... ''kamino, tumney merey holiday ka adventure banwa diya'' he doesn't know this is just the tip of iceberg.

The exuberant melodious thumping of a royal enfield bullet trudging up the steep roads is the best sound you can hear in the hills.
Slowly but continously and agonizingly riding we reach Keylong and decide to get the bikes fixed upon knowing there is a mechanic here. As we park our bikes, a group of people standing on a corner of the hill facing the road to Leh scream out ...''beh gaya...oye beh gaya'' ...washed away oye washed away ..we ask them ...''what???'' and are told, the bridge has been washed away by a landslide. Awestruck, we look at each other's face not knowing what to say ... We would have been crossing that bridge had we not decided to stop at the mechanic. What did we just do??? Escaped death once again.
Now that the road is closed we stay at night at Keylong in a hotel. This is when we realise we are short of cash because nobody remembered to withdraw cash at Manali. We beg money from fellow riders and promise them to pay at Leh.

Escaped danger at rohtang pass landslide, keylong bridge collapse, begged money from passing by motorcyclists and sweetheart, this is just the begining.
Oh man....what a day!!! I am off to bed like a dead body and later have a dream of being hit by a truck and thrown off the hill into the river ...the whole night I see eagles and vultures hovering over my head.

Rode to heaven ... Through hell-Day 1 & 2

Tring tring ... It's my phone. It's 4 in the morning. It's still dark outside, only a faint light of a street lamp enters the room through the tinted glass of the window. It's silent except the noise of the ceiling fan, a dog barks outside, the laptop's blue light blinks every 2 second telling me it's in sleep mode. The room is still scatterred from the packing last night. The bag looks very small for going to ladakh but it has all the things I need. I take the bag and move out silently leaving the door unlocked, they would understand I have left.
I meet Akarsh at 5 in Delhi and start off with a target to reach Manali by evening.
My joblessness doesn't allow me to ride the bike. I am giving the bike on sort of rent for the trip to avoid the petrol and bike's expenses, however this means I get a chance to see the beauty of the valley without worrying about the driving, not a good tradeoff though if you are a motorcyclist.
I meet Akarsh, Abhi, Ruchir and start riding. We have the Indian tricolor on our bikes and seem to be attracting lot of attention.
The roads are good and after a long exhausting ride we reach Naggar (near Manali, where we stop at a friend's place) by night 8. We eat some dinner and are off to sleep.
The next day is also spent in Naggar relishing some local food and a small trip to Manali in the afternoon to buy some essentials for the trip.
Manali has a general purposelesness hung heavy in it's atmosphere. It's crammed, new and ugly.
I am under impression this is going to be a cake walk, only to have a face off with reality later.