When the BIKERS meet

20th January 2008

Just another Sunday ..... but a much awaited one for some young men. I was on my way back from Chandigarh after attending a friend's wedding. Was on my Bajaj Avenger and was aware of the fact that there was a Bikers meet being organised at Karnal on this day. 6 guys from Delhi and 1 from Ambala were supposed to meet at Karnal (Jhilmil Dhaba) to share the much fancied bonhomie that exists between avid bikers. I had reached the Oasis restaurant complex and received a call from Varun (aka Mountaintrekker) that the group would be there in 10 minutes. I sipped my cup of "special cardamom tea" and munched on some chikki. And the group (which I had never met, though known) arrived there on their thundering machines ...... all gleaming and roaring. Many people turned around to see that spectacular armada of men and machine. There were 4 Royal Enfield Bullets, 2 Bajaj Pulsars and 1 Hero Honda Karizma; and my Bajaj Avenger to add it. All were in beautiful shape and majority of them had huge carriers installed which screamed aloud that they've been LEH'd (meaning they've been to Leh!). We then thundered on to the Highway and stopped across on the other side of the road at the Jhilmil Restaurant Complex. We all put down our helmets on one of the tables (they occupied the whole of it!) as some of them inquisitively had a look at my Cramster gloves. We sat down and ordered some paranthas (including the then unheard of Chicken paranthas) and other stuff. I came to know that the guys came from different backgrounds and were very diverse in their profession. Some were software guys while others included an architect, a call centre executive, a mechanical engineer and even a patrakaar! No wonder I added to the diversity. The conversation as expected covered topics like the best (read remote) motorable road in the mountains and the best chai they've savoured up in the hills. The most expensive they said was at some shack in Khardung La (highest motorable pass in the world) near Leh which cost them a 100 rupees per cup!!! The different hues and colors of the famous Pangong Tso in Ladakh was one which they all remembered nostalgically. Then suddenly one of them popped up a question at the rest of the group, "What is the most amazing thing you've ever found in your Air Fiter?" A few answers here and there and then he replied, "I had half a dozen tiddas (grasshoppers) in mine around Kargil!!!) I was quite unsuspecting and thus hit me form nowhere, still a novice with this biker lingo :P
The guys discussed various memorable incidents they've had while biking and the numerous gadgets and equipments they've tried on their machines. I had nothing much to contribute! Added my part when we discussed about Himalayan destinations and country roads. As we finished with our afternoon meals, it was already about 1 p.m and it was time we started the return journey, just to arrive back in time before before sun down and the accompanying chill. The bill amounted upwards of Rs 600 and we realized the exotic chicken parantha cost Rs 55 per piece. We picked up our bikes and the synchronous roar of the 8 motorcycle engines drowned every other sound as the 'ordinary' mortals (those who knew not what motorcycle touring was all about, and the the awe it inspires) looked cluelessly at the retreating armada. We took a detour on our way back and did some 20 kms of country road which skirted the GT Karnal Road. We rode non-stop to Delhi and were back at about 3:30 p.m. Sure it was one great experience, one that brought motorcycle tourers together with each other - and their respective machines.

A different kind of LOHRI

13th of January 2008 ............. my dad's birthday ... and the day of Lohri which is widely marked with a bonfire in celebration of a productive agricultural season. But things seldom follow our plans ..... and this was what was in store. We had made all preparations for Lohri and a small birthday party, not knowing the bonfire we had planned was not to be.

It was at about 4 p.m. that we got the news of the sad demise of my dad's grandmother (not the real one though, but a near one sure). She was 84 and was now reduced to a bundle of bones. Don't really know if people who converged at her home in Gulmohar Park in New Delhi were really sad. She was the last person of her generation and had been ignored far too much to be noticed. Her last days were lonely.

The bonfire that was to be was transformed into a funeral pyre which burnt human flesh. While the city celebrated Lohri, we witnessed the demise of a generation. No one in attendance was sad ..... as if they had expected this for years. They were just there as a formality; so that they do not lose points in social parlance. Dunno if I'm being overly critical, maybe the other funerals that I've attended involved untimely deaths. And hence the sobbing and weeping from fresh wounds suffered due to breakage of long-standing bonds. And maybe today no bonds did actually break, maybe they were broken long ago, or maybe they did'nt exist at all! Maybe the happiness and joy and the good times we experience in life are all shared with people of our generation and the previous generations are simply forgotten, not just in death - but also IN LIFE.

A tour of my land - my village in UTTARAKHAND

http://pullhindola.blogspot.com/

My encounter with the Caste System ...........

I'm born and brought up in Delhi, so has been the case with 2 preceding generations of mine. Father and Grandfather have served in the Government of India in Simla and New Delhi and I have spent my times in the environs of the bustling South Delhi. Hailing from Kumaon region of Uttarakhand, I've never lost touch with my roots and at least an annual trip to my ancestral village is a must. Ours is arguably the most respected Brahmin family (being a Pant) in the region and known for being straightforward and perceptibly in your face.
It was just like a routine trip to my village here in the frontier district of Champawat in Uttarakhand, till I decided to go a little further, on foot. This was a place called "Shalla" which was a half a day walk from our residence. We stopped to take rest in some small and seemingly poor village en-route. We introduced ourselves to a person of the village and said we would be grateful if we could get some water. He belonged to a backward caste (or scheduled caste as we know them, called "doom" in local parlance) and was shocked that we could accept water from his hands. Upon our insistence he agreed and bent down to touch our feet (including mine). He took us to his house which was the poorest I've seen till date in our part of the world. Not a single piece of furniture to be seen. Just a raised platform where he spread out a dari for us to make ourselves comfortable. He disappeared into another room and emerged with a lota of water and a few mishris in a saucer for us. The eldely women (one was possibly more than 85-90 years of age) of the house came out to touch our feet. We tried to stop them but they insisted upon it for if they didn't do it, unko paap lagega. This was as shocking as it could be and we were aghast to see the still prevalent systems which we so easily ignore in the cities. In his effort to welcome us, the person made sure he didn't merely present water to us, going beyond his means would permit. Such incidents come as an eye opener in an age where we fail to give a thought to things beyond our microcosm.