Rohtang pass: conquered on the RE

Here I was with a vehicle that I would avoid buying since it’s brochure does not score high on any of: Max power, 0-100 sprint time, mileage. However, motorcycling is more about spirituality and less about practicality. And this is where the Bullet makes a mark. It took me 6000 metres to figure out why the Royal Enfield commands such respect. To date, I more or less considered it as a machine bought by people who are trying too hard to project themselves as macho males (which is to some extent still  true). Bullet enthusiasts can curse me for my narrow mindedness, but while you are at it: I’d like you to blast those very brainless idiots who keep driving Bullets without a purpose (and hence lead to wrong perceptions about the machine amongst people like me).

It took a while to get used to. Though I’ve test ridden a lot of REs before, this was the first time I was using it for a proper drive. We had chosen a worn out aged Electra (this was one of the very first piece rolling out of the factory) with a custom tank. The weight takes a while to get used to. Of course, starting is a problem in the cold and so was parking, idling and turning at slow speeds. Nothing good till now, it just seemed a bit.. errr.. different.

As altitude rose, the roads deteriorated and the snow cover increased as did the majesticity of the Himalayas. It was a fierce climb and no matter what gear I put the Electra into, the needle just did not budge beyond 50 kmph at full throttle. The street smart bikes from Honda, Bajaj, Yamaha or TVS could’ve managed higher speed beyond doubt.

So since those street machines put down power more scientifically and efficiently, they ought to be faster here right??

Wrong!!

Allow me elaborate. On the Electra, we managed to negotiate those treacherous turns at speeds upwards of 40 kmph. On a R15 or an Apache, I would have had to reduce speed to a fraction to stay within safety limits. The sluggish manner of power delivery also meant that I never had to bother about traction for the rear wheel while accelerating. I have horrid memories of the rear wheel of my 200 Pulsar giving away on a climb when I opened the throttle moderately in gear 2. Thought of a similar instance on this kind of terrain makes my spine shiver. For here, it is not just a fall; it is The END.  Finally, the very obvious advantage of the RE is its impeccable balance. The heavy machine challenges you to bend at high speeds, drive through loose gravel and rocky surface all the while enticing you to push it more.

I have always been fascinated by the Himalayas and have been fortunate enough to have witnessed them a couple of times: courtesy my travel& drive-happy parents.. But it is this time that the reality, the enormity and the magnificence of the Himalayas sank in like never before.

Never before had I witnessed all this. There cannot be a whiter white, bluer sky, higher heights, purer air and chillier chill than that day.. The snow, the sky and the mountains made for a pilgrimage together. There was no human habitation visible for miles & miles, just pure white behemoths surrounding us. There was little left of the road as the melting snow was gobbling it up continuously. We navigated cautiously through the last miles until where the road was open. We had long forgotten as to when we had seen another vehicle and the reason was obvious. The road we were moving on was theoretically closed. It was impossible for a four wheeler to reach this place and even for a bike, it was too adventurous.

Then, the road reduced to a thin black path contrasting the snow all around it. Going on was too risky and I was not sure if our bodies could withstand more. The road was so narrow that turning the bike around was going to be a challenge too. The sun was disappearing fast as well. I felt there were several less painful ways of committing suicide than driving on this road at night.

I conveyed this to Prasad and told him it was just impossible to drive on. Prasad was visibly disappointed. From what I could figure: his relationship with nature is a romantic one. But he too realized that this was not the time and neither were we aptly equipped for this adventure. Our limbs were devoid of any kind of sensation for there seemed to be a disconnect between the brain and other body parts. We could sense our brain sending orders to the hands but our eyes confirmed that the hands never reacted the way they were expected to. How Prasad managed to click photos or I managed the throttle, clutch and gear is still a mystery.

Hence with a heart that had been bashed up by the logical part of the brain, I turned back. The picturesque mountains of the return journey did lift up our spirits again.

Special thanks to Prasad for the pics, being a wonderful conversationalist and most importantly: being hell bent on going on..

Words are too shallow for the Royal Enfield motorcycle. You have to experience it yourself to know what purpose it works for. I started as a skeptic and returned a believer of the Royal Thunder..

However, this remains an unfinished business. Rohtang pass eventually leads to Leh-Ladakh. That 400 Km drive is the ultimate lakshya.. The toughest road beckons.

The discovery that their offspring is upto things that have no remote correlation with the nation’s GDP or betterment of the society is great disappointment for my parents. Though they love their child, they do not think very highly of his intelligence. Yet the brat perceives such trips as highly productive. For this experience liberates your soul, humbles you in front of the mighty Himalayas.

Himachal: Adventures of the Banjaare

Sometimes we get so used to the life of cities, that we tend to forget what materialism is just a drug that keeps us chugging along. Real moments are often discovered leaving the everyday life and moving beyond. If one still equates happiness with success, turnover, asset creation, social status, parties, booze, music & movies; he/she might just be one amongst millions who are captives in their own little worlds. For such souls, Dr. Shubham prescribes the serenity of Himachal. This small state can hardly be called an economic superpower. However, the culture, the people and the magnificent Himalayas make it one of the best places to unwind..

Add to the brewing beauty of Himachal a wonderful company of the elite ‘Banjaare’ and we have a perfect recipe for fun. ‘Swami’ Vivek, Urvashi, Prasad, ‘Kickass’ Aakash, Ann, Smarty Ally (Almas) Pranit Louie, Harsh ‘Hum’ Mohta and the Punjabi lad Chopra made a team that created their own aura no matter where we went.  

The gang had already covered Chandigarh, Shimla & Manikaran and I joined them at Manali.

Manali

Having tamed the white waters of Beas the previous day, the Banjaare yearned for something beyond the thrill of rafting.. So today we were to visit the Sohlang valley and try out skiing and other ice sports. The drive was a short one and while 7 of us boarded the loyal Innova, Prasad and I decided to hire a motorcycle. A forty minute picturesque drive got us to our destination and we were greeted with snow slopes hardened by rainfall from the previous evening. Soon enough, we tried everything out: Skiing, ATV ride, snow slides and Zorbing. Mohta, Prasad and Pranit were the only ones to have gained a considerable insight in skiing; the rest of us were falling here n there in-spite of our serious intent. Mohta even has a near death experience to boast about. I feel Skiing like chicken pox, should be caught young. For at my age there seems little scope for mastering it. Surprisingly, water slides was something that everyone enjoyed a lot and zorbing turned to be thrilling as our dear fellow decided to give us a try in a partially inflated ball.. The jerks and bangs were a bit more than what one expects and our dear Swami walked out with a sore neck when he hit the ground head first inside the ball. As the crowd thinned by the evening, some us decided to trek the snow covered slopes and thank God we did that! We were on all fours to make the climb. We could feel the air getting thinner but the collective energy of the bunch kept us going. The breathless souls were treated with a spectacular view near the top (near the top was where we decided to stop as the slope was impossible). Coming down was more fun as the ladies and Swami showed us how to create your own snow slides. I was initially a bit skeptic (too risky, risk of soaking my bottom etc.) about this but soon gave in as I could no longer ignore the fun these people were having.

Paragliding was one sport that eluded us thanks to a lacklustre terrain, a short air-time and an ask price far beyond its true worth. However, we were determined to make up for it later (in Dharamshala).

Dharamshala

Without wasting time groping for words to describe this place, let me explain in short: This is a hill station with Goan frame of mind. Now it has the usual of a little hill station- Ice view point, ancient temple, a flea market etc, but what makes it different is the cultural mix. The Tibetans were granted refuge in the 50s and many consider this their home. They have brought with them the teachings of Budhdha, value for peace, the style consciousness of the youth and of course- momos. Jokes apart, it is quite a dynamic place with numerous eating joints, colorful people from all parts of the world and brilliant weather & surroundings. The bunch of us gorged the various cuisines available here and covered the market, temple, a waterfall, the Dalai Lama monestary on foot. The second day was reserved for paragliding. For all the brouhaha that's associated with it, it turned out to be quite an experience!

The first to take off was Louie. To be honest, fear had crept into everyone thanks to the elaborate take off procedure which needed the right wind and initiative from our side to run off a cliff. However, one by one everyone did that: jumping off the cliff part. Some of us even experienced the violent air pockets and the stunts performed by the pilot. The landing was a scary affair. It was hardly an effort  to spot the girls coming down. The ladies had a penetrating kind of scream. Rather like a Sukhoi flying by in the valley.

The fascination of paragliding as a sport depends totally on whether you have taken off or landed safely or not. Our Punjaabi lad took off twice. (The sudden wind decided to take him for a ride when the team was getting ready. Thankfully, the guys caught hold of him and yanked him back to the ground) He also happened to be the only one amongst us to have crash landed. As he neared the landing site, the air currents vanished magically and the chute lost height well before the site. The skilful pilot avoided the cartoony incidents (caught in a tree, ripped off by branches, etc) and managed to land in a wet field. So a wet Chopra was the only damage besides the scary memories in Chopu’s head.

As we departed from this lovely place, we made a pit-stop at the Dharamshala cricket stadium: the highest in the world.

Dalhousie

This is one sleepy and dreamy place. Sleepy because there's little scope for loafing around. Dreamy because it is THE place you would imagine yourself to be in. The SBI guest house (courtesy Swami) is far from the cacophony of human habitation. At times, it did seem to be a splendid hang out for ghosts et all but once we settled in it was very warm and homely. We devoured the meals and even got along well with the kids around for cricket. The market and the church is doable in a day. The major attraction of the place is the Khajjiar valley: aptly called 'Switzerland of India'. The drive is an adventurous one and we stooped on the way at 'lakkad bazaar' for a brief snowball fight. The valley is truly a picturesque one and Almas immediately went into overdrive mode with his SLR- clicking away to glory.

The beauty of this state and the warmth of its people is worth taking time off your work and travelling to experience it all. I am totally awed by the beauty of Himachal. And I could also see the fun part of it thanks to the company of the Banjaare..