BOP Bangalore Chronicles: Gopalaswamy Betta and Masinagudi

This ride marks 2 comebacks for me: back to riding after a gap of almost 2 months and back to blogging after more than 2 years! The former is easy to explain: I was waiting for my run-in period to get over so that I don't have to religiously stick to a speed limit of 60 km/hr. The latter has no easy explanations. I was hit by writer's block, I couldn't think of anything to write about, I was too busy, so on and so forth. Each excuse is as good or bad as the next one. But the important thing is, I am writing this now! The ride was amazing and writing about it is a great feeling too. Enough of the introduction though, let's get to the main point.

Dates: 15-16 March, 2014

Places covered: Gopalaswamy Betta, Masinagudi and Shivanasamudra

Routes taken:

Bangalore-Mysore-Nanjangud-Gundlupet-Gopalaswamy Betta-Mudumalai-Masinagudi (while going)

Masinagudi-Gundlupet-Chamrajnagar-Kollegal-Shivanasamudra-Kanakpura-Bangalore (on the way back)

Riders:
1. Varun Doegar- Royal Enfield Thunderbird (Only married man, Failed Water-carrier)
2. Nishant Khanna- Royal Enfield Thunderbird (Bangalore's Nishant, Pee-man, 'Tiger' spotter)
3. Krishnatreya Brindavanam- Royal Enfield Electra (Psychologist with 'p' silent, Indicator of indicators)


Total distance traversed: 557 kms


I have had the itch to ride for the past two weeks. Last weekend's plan didn't pan out as the riders petered away slowly and I wasn't in a mood to do a solo ride  The other BoPian in Bangalore, Fagu told me he was busy for both weekends, but Varun confirmed and soon, Nishant confirmed too. We wanted to do a 2-day ride as Monday (Holi) wasn't a holiday for both Varun and Nishant. The destination, Gopalaswamy Betta, happened to be the first destination I had planned to ride to when I first came to Bangalore in 2011. Two years passed, numerous other rides were completed, the Karizma was sold and the Bullet acquired before I could ride to this place. Very 'demanding' destination, I must say, for putting me through all of this before allowing me to ride to it.

We gathered at around 5.45 a.m. at the Silk Board junction. There was some initial confusion, as I was behind a van and Doegar was with Nishant on the other side and we were waiting for each other for almost 10 mins before deciding to call. Doegar and I were clad in our biking gear- elbow guards, leg guards, gloves, bandana, scarf, military-style lowers etc. Nishant, a debut rider, was just clad in his t-shirt, jeans and thin jacket. Doegar magnanimously gave him another bandana to protect him from the cold and we set off towards NICE road. All luggage was tied on both the Thunderbirds with the help of my 'kapde taangne waale' bungee cords.

NICE (Nandi Infrastructure Corridor Enterprises) Road is actually a very nice road to rip the bike. I gunned my bike as soon as we crossed the toll and touched 100+ for the first time on my new bike. But all three of us are natural slow-and-easy riders, comfortable with revs between 70-90 kmph. I slowed after a few kilometers, as my co-riders caught up with me. After a short photo shoot, we set off towards Mysore. I always stop for chai at a shop near the beginning of the Mysore highway, but it was closed, so we rode on. We stopped for breakfast at Kamat Lokaruchi where we relished strangely shaped idlis wrapped in leaves and washed it down with coffee. Doegar snatched his bandana back from Nishant, telling him it was no longer cold and he didn't require it. His magnanimity has limits, you see.

Nishant got into this habit of 'irrigating' roadside plants and trees whenever we took a break. He reminded us of his namesake in BOP, legendary for his open-air dumps. When we told this Nishant about that Nishant, he took his role even more seriously and made sure that every bum break was a pee break for him. After all, emulating legends is no easy task!

Owing to the short distance and our natural inclination to ride slow, we were relaxed and took frequent breaks. Nishant and Doegar would regularly forget to switch off their indicators and I took the duty to signal and remind them to switch it off every now and then. Coconut water was consumed, photos were taken and we devoured the natural beauty of the countryside. The hills were dry and brown (due to the summers), but it was still beautiful in its own way. Respecting the BOP tradition, we stopped for some beer at a lodge/restaurant on the roadside.

We reached the turning for Gopalaswamy Betta at around 2.30 p.m. We stopped for another photo shoot and were greeted by a group of local children who were fascinated by our bikes and our gear. As it is the midst of the Bandipur wildlife sanctuary, nobody is allowed inside after 4 p.m. A guard at the gate took the entry fees and told us to be back by 3.45 p.m. to avoid a penalty of Rs 500. From there on, you have to ride up a hill for around 3 kms to reach the temple. We made short work of this hill and reached the temple.

The temple commands a spectacular view of the countryside with chequered fields and abrupt, lone hills. We went inside the temple, paid our respects and came out. I insisted on having prasad; I am not a religious person but I respect traditions. Also, it was lunch time and I was hungry. I was led deep inside the caverns of the temple and feasted on a small plate of puliogare. We then set off from there towards Masinagudi where Nishant had booked a room for us in the Nest Inn.

To reach Masinagudi, we rode through Bandipur Forest Reserve. It becomes Mudumalai Forest Reserve when we enter Tamil Nadu. As we rode through the beautiful forest, we came across loads of monkeys, langurs and bunches of deer standing on the roadside as if nothing was amiss (probably nothing was, for them). As we continued, we suddenly came across a patch of bleak landscape. It took me a moment to realize that we were staring at the aftermath of a recent forest fire. Tree stumps were still spewing out smoke and the whole scene had a surreal, dystopic look to it. We rode on and reached out hotel at around 5 pm. Nest Inn truly resembles a nest. The entrance and the pathways are adorned with loads of plants, vines and creepers. We were shown our room, with a view of a large, stony hill.

After refreshing ourselves, we set off on a short exploratory walk. The primary aim was to scour for supplies for the night's BBB session. For the uninitiated, BBB stands for Beer, Bullet and Bakchodi. It is BOP's trademark and the awesomeness of it can only be felt by those in attendance and understood by those who have attended BBBs in the past. After buying our beers (Kingfishers and one local brand called British Empire, for my beer sticker collection), we returned. We ordered for starters to be delivered to the room and the session started. All manners of topics were discussed. Varun Doegar, being the only married man among the lot, gave us his insights about married life and what it entails. After a simple dinner of rice and dal (chicken for the non-veggies), we turned in for the night.

The next morning, we got up late and lazed around for a while before going out to get money from an ATM. On the way, Nishant shared a story about some national park he visited where he saw a whole bunch of 'tigers' taking a bath. The next line stumped us both for a few seconds- "Apne soondh se paani daale ja rahe the ek doosre pe". Doegar kindly pointed out that it is called an elephant and not a tiger. We  then came back to the hotel and totaled our expenses. Nishant and Doegar worked out a brilliant role-playing technique to avoid all confusions, that would have made our legendary Chadda paaji cry. Chadda paaji is well known in the club for his Excel sheets where he meticulously records all expenses incurred by the riders. His presence was sorely missed as both of them passed a Rs 100 note back and forth, asking how much the other owed him at each exchange.


After settling up everything, we set off towards Bangalore at around 10 a.m. We took a different route this time, passing through Chamrajanagar and Kanakpura. The roads were fabulous and we soon reached Shivanasamudra. I had been here with Fagu and another friend last year. Doegar and Nishant hadn't seen it, so we took the turn. The road had been re-laid now but the waterfall had dried out. Nevertheless, it was a majestic view. We had lunch at the restaurant nearby, where the food was good but the service abysmal; half the items on the menu weren't available and the waiter seemed clueless. We took a post-lunch break in the grassy lawn before starting off for Bangalore.

We took less breaks this time, but the ride was still relaxed and easy. Doegar, who carried our water bottle throughout the ride, mysteriously lost it somewhere on the way. He claimed someone at the red-light in the last town we passed must have stolen it, but who knows? We had some coconut water instead. As we passed through Kanakpura, some 40 kms from Bangalore, Doegar had a near-fall as he skidded on some sand in the middle of the road and almost fell in front of an auto. Fortunately though, he managed to regain his balance. We took the last break after this, for a can of beer at a roadside bar.

We reached Bangalore at around 7 pm, said our goodbyes and headed off home. The ride was a much-needed break for me and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The end of my bike's run-in period was celebrated in a manner befitting the Bullet and no less significant is that the ride made me get back to writing after a long hiatus.

Until next time! Cheers and Jai BOP!

A tale of guts and guile!

     Everyday in Gokul PG, a curious scene plays out at 1 in the afternoon and 8 in the night. Small groups of the PG residents gather at every floor, all looking tense and poised for action. Half of them don't know each other, yet they exchange knowing smiles. Some of them dart downstairs to conduct reconnaissance, but they receive information from those in the lower floors through nods and glances. The tension builds up slowly as the number of people increase. Now, the groups are openly conversing with each other, cursing the PG owner, the caretakers and the guard. All the people are armed with their plates and cups. Those who just reached the PG rush up the stairs to their respective rooms to arm themselves for the battle ahead.

   Movement begins when the guard arrives carrying a bag with 3 containers and a 4th larger container, separately. He keeps them on the 1st floor and disappears somewhere. Everybody is agitated now. "Abbe sekority (security), muhurat ka wait kar raha hai bh*****?" A censored, calmer version is repeated by the Telugu speaking elements of this crowd. The guard's reinforcements arrive in the form of a young boy and a teenager, who are barely able to lift the aforementioned containers between themselves. Some of the waiting crowd help them carry it to the roof, where a plastic table is waiting (and it still has scars of that afternoon or the previous day's battles). The scene is all set. The waiting people open the big container, full of rice or tomato rice or lemon rice (depending on the day of the week). What is everyone waiting for? The serving spoons! They are lying on another part of the roof, most probably unwashed. One of the 'staff' gets it. The Mexican standoff ends and mayhem rules supreme.

   Now the young boys  mentioned earlier desperately try to swing into action and bring about order in chaos. The younger one is sent off to one corner of the roof with the packet of rotis. The North Indians set upon him, intent on grabbing their quota of 3 rotis before they get finished. They will remain out of the main action for now, so let us focus on the table. The teenage caretaker tries to do 2 things at once- serve the rice and serve the dry curry. He fails miserably at both, usually. If one towers over the crowd gathered around the table, all one can see is a sea of plates thrust into the boy's face. You can also hear everyone shouting in Telugu, Hindi or Kannada to serve them first, so that they can leave. Some of them ask him to serve double the quantity of rice, for their friends waiting downstairs. The ones whose plates are full turn their attention to the sambhar. The serving spoon is nowhere to be seen. "Ooye, gante ekkada ra?" (where is the serving spoon?). The 'gante' appears from somewhere, everyone reaches out to it, a determined hand snatches is from everyone and takes his share. While doing so, he has maneuver it expertly through other hands waiting to grab it. When he is done, he hands it over to a friend or the nearest hand and gingerly extracts himself from the crush of hungry men. If you want to get your chance, you will have be to assertive, bordering on aggressive. Meanwhile,  the North Indians join the crowd at the table for their curry and sambhar. By now, the curry is almost finished and only the ones willing to snatch the whole container can get anything. The sambhar is still left, so all the serving spoons are used to finish it off. Some of them (like me) dip their cups into it. Plates full and a look of victory in their eyes, the winners of this brouhaha calmly retire to enjoy their food in peace. For those who go back to their rooms to eat, yet another minor dogfight is left. And dogfight it is, as they go down the stairs and avoid oncoming traffic. The oncoming traffic consists of latecomers who are rushing up the stairs like bulls to grab anything that is still left. You need to swerve and dodge them like Spanish bullfighters.

   The exceptional days are Wednesdays, Sundays and the days the owner serves the food himself. On Wednesdays and Sundays, the table IS the center of action since there are no rotis. The day the owner serves is completely different. Towering over everyone in the PG, with a stern demeanor and a broad physique, the owner commands respect. Nobody shouts, nobody grabs the spoons and nobody asks for more. Thou shalt take what He gives and thou shalt retire, for He is fair and just!

   Many years from now, when I am enjoying food in a 5 star hotel, I shall think of these days. I will look back at days when I missed my food, when I couldn't get enough and more importantly, at days when I successfully duped everyone and got an extra egg or extra curry!Ah, such joy! Who will believe me then, that a day's lunch and dinner required such guts and guile? I will surely miss the food rituals of Gokul PG when I finally get out of this place!

Ramblings of an offender!

Having nothing to do in the train, I decided to work on a few ideas and thoughts of mine and streamline them into a blog. I have this habit of thinking aloud when I am riding my bike. It includes a steady stream of commentary on fellow motorists, cyclists and pedestrians. It also includes commenting on roads, road signs, interesting spellings on other vehicles and a whole range of different thoughts. It helps me concentrate and I enjoy this time a lot. I never had the habit of listening to music on the bike, but this is, for me, is far better than any music. So, one day, I was going somewhere in Koramangala (in Bangalore) and I had to take a U-turn. There was a road sign clearly forbidding a U-turn at that spot. I, however, realized that there was no good reason for forbidding it there. The traffic was moderate and taking a U-turn there was not causing anyone any unnecessary inconvenience. I went ahead, took the U-turn and continued. A little further ahead, a policeman tried to stop me but I twisted, turned and escaped. However, that is a different matter. My thoughts turned to the matter at hand. Legally speaking, I am an offender now as I had just broken a law. Anybody can clearly see that I was using a defence mechanism by questioning its purpose while breaking it. This is not an isolated incident. 98% of the times, I never break any road laws. I stop at red lights, don’t take illegal turns, prefer going a little distance ahead and taking a U-turn than riding on the wrong side and use horn/dipper while overtaking. It is the remaining 2% that is of interest here. I like to convince myself that if I jump a red light, it is only after duly checking for speeding vehicles on all sides. Quite often, I ride on the pavement or off the road to escape a traffic jam. Even then, I tell myself that I am a biker and bikers are expected by traffic to stand as vanguards and lead from the front. If bikes don’t try to escape from jams, the jams can get 10 times worse than they are already are. So, I am an offender. Guilty as charged!
But, let us think about the assurances and convincing arguments I give myself. Are laws meant to be questioned? If the Government makes and implements a law, are we supposed to follow it without any doubts whatsoever? What if a law seems archaic or not in sync with the reality? Should we question and break such laws? I still think that ‘No U-turn’ sign near that junction is a nuisance for motorists. Maybe, at some point of time, it was required. Maybe, the Municipal Corporation installed that road sign and forgot to take it off. So tell me, do we have the right to question or do we blindly follow it just to be on the right side of law? Should we just think that a particular law might have been made for a purpose which is beyond our understanding that point of time? If we do so, aren’t we placing undue trust on the lawmaking authorities and assigning a quality of Godliness to them, by saying that their actions HAVE a purpose and we mere mortals are in no position to realize that ulterior motive?
But this naturally leads to more serious infringements of laws. Granted, you can question laws and break them if you think they are useless, stupid or not required. Suppose, I think that the law protecting people from killing each other is useless. I justify killing someone with reams of paper full of rhetoric. The world would end in anarchy then! Let us now add a little clause to the right to question and break moronic laws. This clause would attempt to prevent the chaos and anarchy I just talked about. This clause says, you can question and break laws if another human being is not inconvenienced or harmed by it! Where does that land us? Back at square one. Now, kindly define inconvenience and harm! Kindly also tell me, how qualified are humans to understand the far reaching consequences of relatively harmless actions that they indulge in everyday? You break a law that you deem to be stupid and you make sure that nobody is inconvenienced or harmed by it immediately. But what if circumstances change in the fraction of a second? I am jumping that red light after carefully making sure that there is nobody coming directly in front of my path. At that point of time, my tire slips on a little stone that has no business being there in the middle of the road. It is there because a kid was kicking it on the way home from school and it landed here. I slip on it and fall. A car, which I could have easily avoided if I hadn’t slipped, rushes towards me at breakneck speed and.......
Oh dammit! I think too much. It is a result of ennui, my dear friends. Boredom. I am going to have a nap. So long, folks! Parting advice: look carefully before you jump a red light or take an illegal U-turn. These cops deliberately hide behind trees and jump out like a tiger pouncing on its prey!

Writings from the Grave

It seemed like I was wrapped in a translucent sheet. Not just my head, not just my body. The whole road! I was riding through the thickest fog ever. For the past half an hour, only the occasional truck and my steadily ticking odometer convinced me that I was riding ahead and was not on the motorcycle version of the gym cycle. I was riding like a robot- throttle twisted to keep the speed at 50, freezing hands ready on the front brake, helmet visor partly lifted so that it doesn’t mist up and eyes on the lookout for vague shapes without lights. My motions were also like of a robot, when I spotted a truck- check rear view mirror, indicator, flash pass light, honk, twist throttle, again indicator, again check rear view mirror and then slow down. The fog showed no signs of thinning. Indeed, there were patches where it was worse. Goddamn fog! What a morning I chose to ride. I was shivering inside my jacket, teeth clattering inside the balaclava and helmet and hands freezing inside the gloves. The beginnings of a cramp in the right knee, though I had committed myself to ride for another 70 kms before stopping for a break. When you make a commitment, you stick to it. No matter what. Well, not if you have committed your life to someone in drunken reverie, of course. I did that with her. I was as drunk as a...well, as a drunk person would be (NO other object or species on this Earth consumes alcohol deliberately, so all metaphors and similes are moot). Then, when she asked me if I loved her, I replied in the affirmative. She wanted to spend her lifetime with me; did I also want to do that? OF COURSE! What followed was what follows when a girl and boy are drunk and madly in love with each other. What happened the next morning was NOT what happens to a girl and boy madly in love with each other. The fogs of alcohol dispersed from my brain...which reminds me, the fog on the road had still not cleared and I was still riding at 50 with no sign on human life anywhere. I am on planet Jupiter, and I am riding towards the Great Red Spot. Hell no! I am on Neptune. I always loved the sound of that name. Nep-tune, Nep-TUNE. So nice!

(Riding on the highways for me is second nature. Long hours of enjoyment, fringed with boredom with the mind jumping from one thing to another, all interspersed with moments of extreme adrenaline rush and spiking heart beats. Those moments are few and far between, and I would prefer to tackle such situations with a cool and clear head.....). Well, that sounded like a nice beginning to my ride blog when I reached home! I’ll sleep for a while and then start off in the evening. That is, if I reach before afternoon.

I checked my odometer. It had ticked to 251 kms. I had passed my 70 kms target a few minutes ago and I was supposed to stop for a stretching break. But hell, I wanted to get out of this fog, so another 20 kms. I’ll stop then. I promise to myself. I felt like a child psychologist, promising goodies to that little child inside my skull if it behaved well for a few more minutes.

Another truck light appeared. Alright, check rear view mirror. Nothing approaching. Indicator, ON. Flash light, honk and twist the throttle, feeling the beast between my legs (the one with wheels, not the other one) churning out and unleashing raw power. Then, I see another truck light in my path. I slow a bit, but see that this one has rods jutting out of its back. Crap!

You know what is fear? Fear is not when you are about to jump for an 80 feet cliff with a bungee cord tied to your legs. That is nervousness. You are nervous but deep, deep, deep inside your brain, you know you’ll probably survive. So, you jump. Fear is that split second before a crash, when you know that you are about to crash and you can do nothing about it. That fraction of a second of clear headedness is fear. You experience that once and everything else in life will seem easy to you.

The rods passed through my body like knife through butter. I was dead before I could
have any last thoughts.

Faith

Two events of the past few days lead to this blog. The first was my ride to Tirupati and the subsequent climb up to Tirumala. The second one was the Ganesh Chaturthi pooja in my P.G. today. Let me give a brief sketch of each before I start off.

The Tirupati ride was a spur-of-the-moment ride. I had resolved to go to Tirupati many months ago, but on Friday evening, I decided to miss college the next day and go. A few family friends there were contacted and informed. The plan was to ride up to Tirupati, park the bike there and then climb up to Tirumala via the Alipiri route (3500+ steps). The Alipiri route is the traditional, longer of the two pedestrian routes from Tirupati to Tirumala. The ride was decent (except for a broken speedometer cable, rendering my odometer non-functional) and I reached Tirupati by 11.30 a.m. I was at the starting point of Alipiri steps by 12 sharp and began the climb without further ado. I reached the town of Tirumala by 3.45 pm, met up with my grandfather, freshened up and joined the 'darshanam' queue again at 6. Thanks to a stupid mistake on my part, I wasted 2 hours and came back to my grandfather's room at 12.30 a.m. after the darshanam. The next day, I hit the road again and reached Bengaluru at 1 p.m, thereby fulfilling the 4 month old promise to myself and family.

The other event was today's pooja in my P.G. The caretaker cum errand boy of the P.G. is a lazy boy named Shiva. He rarely does the stuff told to him on time and has the habit of talking back when reprimanded. Some other residents of the PG get him drunk weekly and he always hangs around with them. No wonder their rooms are the cleanest in the whole PG! So, 2 days ago, this epitome of laziness started going around to all rooms collecting money. For what? For a Ganesh Chaturthi pooja in the P.G. I was pretty surprised by his commitment to the cause. I gave my contribution but was pretty skeptic about how the thing would turn out. My skepticism got an egg on its face. It was a small pooja, but it was well done, with a nice idol, fruits, sweets, incense sticks and all other pooja paraphernalia. The aforementioned PG residents were the priests and organizers too.

So, what is the significance of these two events? As you might have noticed, the common thread that runs through both of them is devotion to God. For those who don't know, I declared myself an agnostic many years ago and continue believing I am one. A blog dedicated to this was posted too (http://bkatreya.blogspot.com/2011_05_01_archive.html). But the climb to Tirumala made me give all this a serious re-think. They say, faith moves mountains. I witnessed it first hand on 3500 steps. Everyone was huffing and puffing their way up but there was s difference. I was doing it just because I wanted to, because I had promised myself. The others were not doing it for anybody else, or even for themselves. They were doing it because of the sheer force of belief. 60-70 year old people, who might moan and groan about moving a chair were climbing with me. Young children, accompanied by their parents were taking the stairs two at a time. Even more surprising were young couples lugging around chubby babies and still climbing! Another class of climbers were those who might have taken an oath in front of God to do something if some wish is fulfilled. These people either lighted camphor tablets or applied a paste of kumkum and haldi on each stair. At the end of the climb, I was left with lots of thoughts. Primarily, I was thinking, what kind of strength do these people have to have SUCH faith in God? How beautiful their lives were because of that faith and belief! I trudge through life, I have my happy and sad moments, I take things as they come by, I get respect and I lose respect. These people might be living similar lives but add to it, their immortal faith in God. It is like, we all are mountains. But mine is a barren mountain whilst a beautiful stream of water runs through theirs. That stream cuts through the rock of the mountain but at the same time, beautifies it with greenery. My mountain, on the other hand, stands strong with them but there is a certain something missing, evident to all and sundry.

The pooja today intensified these feelings in me. Again, a whole community slowly built up around the pooja table. All were just connected by their faith in God. I stood with them with folded hands, but somehow, there was something missing.

I think I am going insane

I AM AN AGNOSTIC!! I DON'T BELIEVE IN WORSHIPING GOD!! But I now have faith in faith. Yes I have faith, not in God, but in faith!

Have a nice day, people!

My first long solo ride!

I just completed my first long solo ride! So, I decided, this would be
the perfect time for me to start blogging about bike rides. Though I
had started riding in 2008, I had never blogged about it. People
always asked me about it, and I just replied that I wasn't motivated
enough to. That, however, does not mean that the rides weren't

significant enough. The truth actually was that at the end of every
ride, I felt VERY exhilarated and penning down that exhilaration was
next to impossible for me. I'll try doing that now.

This ride, Bangalore to Jog Falls, had been planned long ago. The
initial plan was just to see Jog Falls. Then, I realized I would be
having a 3 day weekend (13th,14th and 15th August). Thus, I roped in
my good friend and fellow biker, Sarat. Both of us planned a 4 day
ride, covering Gokarna and Mangalore too. We then sold this plan to a
third friend, Akash, who was to ride pillion with us. Things were all
planned, I got my bike serviced, bought some stuff I needed and was
basically very excited to start off. 2 days before the ride, however,
Sarat dropped out due to a personal problem. That left me and Akash.
We decided to drop Mangalore from the itinerary, but I still had
second thoughts. I was never comfortable with a pillion, especially on
long rides. After grappling with the problem for a while, I decided
and told Akash that I would ride solo. He was understanding about it.
This decision, however, had mixed results. We drank on 12th night and
I slept early.

13th morning, I woke up late, at 6.20. I was still slightly foggy in
the mind since the effects of the beer had not yet worn off. I got ready quickly and started off. I had decided to implement Bulls on Parade's (BoP, a
Delhi based Bullet club) 100 km pit-stop strategy. I had bungee cords,
but since it was already 6.30, I kept off packing till the first stop
for breakfast. Finding my way out of Bangalore, I hit the NH-4. NH-4
is a six laned slab of Amul butter. I touched the 100 kms mark soon
enough, but rode on, since I was enjoying myself. A sign board
appeared, directing me left, towards Shimoga. From this turning, the
NH-206 starts. I rode for 15-20 kms, keeping a sharp lookout for any
good hotel. None appeared. I was regretting my decision of not
stopping for breakfast on NH-4 when some hotel appeared. I had
something called 'thatte' idli, which was just about average. I washed
it down with a glass of tea and took out my bungee cords to figure out
a way to pack. After 15 mins, I managed to tie down the bag. Happy
with the result, I started off again. I had only progressed 3-4
metres, when I noticed the bag slipping down slowly. I tied it down
again, differently this time, but the bag continued to slip off.
Having no option, I shouldered the bag for the rest of the ride.

The NH-206 is one of the best highways I have ever had the pleasure to
ride on. It is two-laned, for the most part, though it expands to 4
lanes for a few kilometers in between. The road curves like a gentle
snake through villages, green fields and forests. It is smooth too,
though you will come across bad stretches in between, ranging from a
few meters to 3-4 kilometers. The cloudy sky made the weather perfect
for riding. I came across great scenery, but I wasn't in a mood to
stop and take pictures. It drizzled slightly in between, so I stopped
to wear my raincoat but that's about it. Passing through Shimoga and
Sagara, I finally reached my destination, Jog Falls. The Karnataka
Tourism Ministry had made it a perfect tourist spot, with parking
facilities and restaurants nearby. I started looking for a hotel and
asked the guard there. A small boy materialized and offered to take me
to the Youth Hostel and other hotels in the vicinity. When we reached
the Youth Hostel, there was nobody there, so we went to another
lodging facility nearby. There, however, the owner steadfastly refused
to give a room to a single person. The boy told me that nobody in this
area gives rooms to single people. There was a village called Kargal,
5 kms away and it was the same situation there. Downcast, I decided to
see the waterfalls and then ride back to Sagara (30 kms away) for the
night. At the parking, a local guide came up to me. He scolded the
little boy and assured me that I would get a room in Kargal, if he
came with me. It was worth a try, so off we went. At Kargal, again, 2
lodging facilities refused to admit me. The third one, Hotel Sampath
Lodge, was dingy place to stay in. The owner initially refused too. I
was informed that single people have the tendency of committing
suicide and that is why, nobody gives rooms to them. The owner asked
me if I 'had any problem'. Meaning, if I planned to commit suicide. I
managed to keep a straight face and assured him that I was a happy
man, living a perfect life. He relented finally. The price of that
tiny room was Rs 700, but I bargained it down to Rs 400.

I freshened up, deposited my bag and went back to Jog Falls to see
what was there to see. Jog Falls are the highest waterfalls in India.
There are 3-4 different viewing points. The waterfalls actually
consist of 4 falls- Raja, Roarer, Rocket and Rani. The view is
magnificent and the setting serene. I took some pictures and sat on a
secluded bench to think what to do next. It was just 5 pm. It suddenly
hit me, that I was bored! Jog Falls were great to look at, but what
now? The plan was to ride to Gokarna the next day, but I almost knew
what would happen there. After visiting the beaches and the temple, I
would again be faced with the same problem- what to do the whole day.
Without anybody along, I had thoroughly enjoyed the ride. However, it
is at the destination that one feels the need for companionship. A
couple of friends along with a few beers would have made this more
enjoyable. I thought for a while before taking the decision- I would
skip Gokarna too. It felt ridiculous, shortening the ride again, but I
thought it was for the best. It started raining and a mist was
covering the falls, so I went back to the hotel. My room wasn't the
most interesting place to be in, so I again stepped out to look for an
internet cafe. At the cafe, the lady asked for my ID proof and
address. She ended up completely confused, when I cited the facts- I
am from Andhra, that is why I am speaking Telugu; my licence is from
Uttar Pradesh, which is where I reside; I am currently staying in
Bangalore; and for this night, I am staying in the hotel nearby. She
asked me to write the address of the hotel in the register, in case I
came up with the name of some other place.

By the time I finished, it was dinner time. I stepped into the only
hotel nearby. The dinner I had was one of the worse meals I have
tasted. I gobbled it down and turned in early. My phone battery was
dead and the only plug point in my room was two-pin point. The hotel
peon told me that the owner's room had a 3 pin point and I could use
it when the latter returned from the masjid. The blessed owner never
turned up. I woke up every hour to look for him, since I wasn't
comfortable with riding around with a dead phone. At 3, I slept off
for good. When I woke up, it was 6 am. The owner had finally returned
and provided me with a pink plug converter. Thanking him profusely for
his 'timely' help, I charged my phone for 10-15 mins, while I dressed
up and had tea. I was out on the road by 6.20 am.

As I crossed Jog, I came across a strange sight. On the edge of the
road, a gunny bag was walking. It looked eerie, yet funny, seeing a
gunny bag walking. I came closer and realized that a villager had
draped on the gunny bag to cover his upper body completely. There was
a light drizzle, so I guess it was to shield him from the rain. He had
just left a small hole near the head to see through. Strangest things
one comes across during rides!

The rest of the ride was uneventful. While coming to Jog, it took me 8
hours to cover 400 kms. I thought it was a bit on the slower side, so
I speeded up and took only 2 breaks this time. By the time I reached
Bangalore outskirts, it was 1.45 pm. Another 45 mins in the city
traffic and I was home, having successfully completed my longest ride
ever- 821 kms!

Ride stats
Length- 821 kms
Route- Bangalore-Shimoga-Sagara-Jog
Highways- NH-4 and NH-206

Tips for riders
1. Eat on NH-4, in Kamat Upachar, maybe. NH-206 is awesome, but it
loses out on good places to eat.
2. If you are very low on fuel, tank up in Sagara itself. From there
till Jog (and another 30 kms ahead), there is no petrol pump. You can
get petrol from a puncture shop in Kargal for Rs 80/liter. Along with
the cost, I think the fuel is of questionable quality too.
3. As it happened with me, it is hard to get a room if you are alone.
But, if you catch hold of one of the guides in Jog, it'll be easier
for you
4. Lastly, enjoy the ride! The last 60 kms to Jog are through forests
and it is truly a magical experience

I'll end this with a 2 liner I came up with while riding on the smooth
curves of NH-206
"I love curves
Of both roads and girls!"

So long!

My meanderings into agnosticism

My recent travels gave me ample time to think about everything. A significant portion of this time was spent on thinking about my complete lack of belief in God. Almost four years ago, I had classified myself as an agnostic. Atheism was way too definite for me, since it negates the existence of God completely, while agnosticism leaves room for doubt. Then too, I had thought about it for long. I had noticed a steady decline in the strength of my prayers. I folded hands, I recited my slokas but there was no conviction in them. I just did it because it had to be done. I decided it was no good, so I stopped praying completely. Every few months or so, I was forced to take part in some pooja, and I would mechanically recite my slokas and get it done with. I was (and still am) scared of admitting my agnosticism openly to my family, since all are devout believers of God and anything close to lack of belief would be sacrilege. More on this later, though.

When I first decided I was an agnostic, I had delved into the reasons behind it. Was it simply rebellious thoughts stemming from adolescence? Wasn't every teenager a rebel? I was 17 then, so I guessed that the phase would pass and soon, my prayers would have belief and conviction in them. That didn't happen. Slowly, I started to realize this wasn't that easy to explain. I had started reading Sigmund Freud's works then and his emphasis on unconscious thoughts had influenced me greatly. There WAS a reason to it, and it wasn't out in the open. It had to be extracted. I concluded that my prayers had started becoming robotic ever since I was 13 or 14. I will not give any details here, but that was the time when a close family member started having health problems, which steadily worsened. This family member is and has always been a very devout believer of God. It didn't make sense to me. If there was God, why was there suffering? If he punished his worshipers, why worship him at all? If suffering was inevitable, then isn't it better to endure it, than seeking the support of a non existent being whose believers made tall claims, yet he usually fails to show up when needed? I became angry then and I decided. I will not pray. If Karma is true and that family member was suffering due to wrongs done in the past life, then so be it. God has no role to play here. It is like a bank balance, where the credits and debits are calculated and the amount carried forward to the next quarter. No need to go the bank manager and ask him for help, is there?

From there on, I embarked upon the path of agnosticism. Each passing day, my belief weakened. I did not deny the existence of God. Nor will I ever. I just did not and do not find any need to worship and pray him. Why pray, when it does not ease any suffering? Why adulate him, when what you have achieved is due to your own efforts (or those of others)? You do not like your boss taking credit for your work, but you are ready to give credit to God for it. Go ahead. I won't do it.

Coming to the point I made earlier, I actually am not very open about my agnosticism. My family is completely God believing. Whenever possible, I avoid prayers, poojas, etc. But when I cannot avoid it, I go ahead and do it. My thoughts are somewhere else when I close my eyes and fold my hands. Call me a coward for not being open about my feelings. I myself get that feeling sometimes. Maybe one day, I'll tell everyone what I really think about praying to God. Or maybe not. The current situation is that I am happy with my beliefs and so is my family. Let us see what the future brings. They say that there are no atheists on a sinking ship. I cannot comment on that, since life has thrown difficult situations at me and I have managed to handle them without seeking the the help of God. Maybe I can handle a sinking ship too!

{Note: I will not tolerate any comments that preach belief in God to me. I absolutely hate such things. Kindly desist)