BOP Bangalore Chronicles: The Munnar Macarenas ride (Part III)

DAY 3 (Munnar to Coimbatore)

We had earlier toyed with the idea of spending the whole day at Zina Cottage and covering the 500 kms back to Bangalore on Sunday. But we remembered the ride under the sun and we switched back to our original plan of starting off from Munnar in the afternoon and spending the night in Coimbatore. We would thus have only a comfortable 350 kms to cover on the final day. We got up late and took a leisurely walk through the surrounding tea estates. Fagu and Sheshank started off before me, so I explored the area alone. I sat on a comfortable rock and let my mind wander for a while. The soothingly warm sun, the gentle, cool wind and the vast expanse of green, neatly arranged in grids, were all hypnotic and I spent quite some time on that rock. I almost forgot that I was mindlessly twirling a stick until a local passed by me, looking at me strangely. That broke the spell and I walked back to the cottage, as the hunger pangs started.

Breakfast consisted of simple toast, jam, omelette and tea. I had laid out all my rain-soaked gear and clothes out in the sun to dry. There were a bunch of foreigners in the other rooms who greeted us, but left us to our own devices. Velu, the cottage caretaker, shuttled up and down the dirt track in a Bajaj auto, of all the vehicles in the world. He took it up a steep, stony slope near the cottage and I was pretty sure that he could manage the off-road track to Kolukkumalai without breaking a sweat. The auto was apparently 12 years old and barely required any maintenance. He pointed out that the fancy Piaggio autos that dominated the roads would require a lot more maintenance if they are made to endure similar abuse. That tells you a lot about the toughness of classic Indian automobiles. 

We checked out and cleared our rooms, sharp at 11 am (the check out time). We, however, lounged around in the gazebo and the lawn for another hour. The plan was to start off at 2.30 pm, but at around 1, Velu informed us that it could rain any time. We immediately loaded our bikes and went downhill to the Kanan Devan Hills clubhouse for lunch. Fagu informed us that it was quite famous.

Interestingly though, the clubhouse was virtually empty. There were living quarters, but the canteen was abandoned. It did look like it had seen better days in the bygone era. But presently, it resembled an old widow dressed in her bride's gown, waiting patiently for her long-dead groom. The chairs were brand new but unused. One of the staff took our orders, prepared the food in limited quantities and served it to us. It was good food, but didn't stand out. The sambhar, however, was excellent. During the meal, Fagu dropped a bombshell. Apparently, he mistook this clubhouse for another; the famous club he read about was another one, costlier and livelier. No regrets though, eating in that empty canteen made me feel like the protagonist in one of Ruskin Bond's short stories. Fagu is an adventurous spirit and asked for ice-cream at the end of the meal. This bright pink ice-cream was apparently very creamy. I gave it a pass. 

The ride to Coimbatore was very pleasant for the most part. We couldn't have timed it better. The hottest part of the day was spent cruising down the ghats and by the time we reached the plains, the cool evening breeze had started. We only faced heavy traffic 50 kms before Coimbatore. We rode on stoically and reached our hotel at around 8.30 pm. We upgraded to the AC room at the last moment. I jumped into the bath immediately, while Fagu and Sheshank entertained themselves watching Arnab Goswami, getting his ass kicked by Raj Thackeray. 

Sheshank told us about a famous food stall in the city and we set off in an auto (none of us were in a mood to ride again in the night traffic) for dinner. The place, however,  was closed. We came upon a busy restaurant called Delhiwala. I went in to order the food, while Fagu and Sheshank went ahead to a bar called 18+ for buying booze. I sat at an empty table and was about to order for all 3 of us, when the waiter informed me they had '3G service'. He elaborated, telling me that the service is very fast and that I should wait for my friends, lest the food go cold. I took his advice and waited for the others. They turned up looking very happy. 18+ is apparently open till 12 am and serves amazingly cold beer. We ordered for the food and as the waiter said, the food appeared on our tables in 5-7 mins. The food was par excellence. You may say that I am exaggerating, but the food was actually better than the 'real' Delhi food. Who would expect that this place, tucked deep inside Coimbatore, would serve such delicious North Indian food! I ate till I could eat no more and we set off towards 18+.

18+ was the next best-decision of the day. The bar is a tad shady, but the interiors are well designed. They charged Rs 200 per beer. That's pricey, you would say. But not when you lay eyes on the array of snacks that are served alongside. With each chilled beer you order, you get a different plate of snacks- pakodas,cucumber slices, peanuts, different types of namkeen, masala papad, etc. Everything is laid before you with each serving of beer. Fagu decided to test their magnanimity by asking for another masala papad 15 minutes before closing time. The waiter served this without complaint, but we soon realized why. The cook was very liberal with the use of chillies now and Fagu turned into Darth Vader, breathing in and out heavily to cool down his tongue. I was quite convinced that another order for masala papad would cause the cook to send us a plate of Bhut Jolokia sprinkled on some papad. We finished drinking and headed back to the hotel for a night of peaceful sleep.

DAY 4 (Coimbatore to Bangalore)

We started off at 5.20 am from Coimbatore. It was smooth riding all the way. The roads are very smooth and we were able to cover the distance easily. The ride back was more or less uneventful. Lunch was at McDonalds, where I chatted with a guy from Munnar, settled in Bangalore, who had ridden to his hometown recently on his Karizma. It's always good to chat up with other riders. You feel like you are part of a large, secret community with shared experiences and stories.

We reached Bangalore at 2 pm and had a post-ride celebratory beer at a bar near my place, a fitting end to a superb ride!


I'd like to sign off with a general observation about bike rides. I've done a majority of leisure travelling on my bike and I have discovered that there are generally two kinds of rides. One, where the destination is more important and the other, where the ride is more important. Note that I said 'MORE' important. I enjoy both equally, but I've noticed that a lot of riders have a strong preference for one of either. My Kannur and Agumbe rides were of the latter type, where we took everything at a leisurely pace. We stopped very frequently on the way- a stream behind a tea-shop, a pond, a museum, etc. The destination had to be reached, but more important was having fun on the way. This ride is of the former type- disciplined riding, so that we could make the most of a beautiful destination in a very limited time-frame. Kudos to Fagu for his meticulous research about the destination that helped make this ride a grand success.

Until next time....

Cheers and JAI BoP! 

BOP Bangalore Chronicles: The Munnar Macarenas ride (Part II)

DAY 2 (Munnar to Kolukkumalai and back)

We all got up at around 10 am. Two decisions were made immediately. Firstly, we'd change the hotel. We had taken this out of compulsion, the room was livable but did not warrant the price. The second decision was to visit Kolukkumalai. Both decisions had a significant, positive impact on the whole trip.

After some research, Fagu discovered the Zina Cottage, halfway up a hill and in the middle of a tea estate. He immediately called and booked a room for the 3 of us. We checked out of this hotel and started searching for Zina Cottage. As I said, it is on a small hill and there is an off-roading patch that you have to negotiate to reach the place. It is a quaint little spot, with an old world charm to it. It overlooks a vast expanse of greenery and was surrounded by tea plantations. The caretaker, Velu, an unassuming, friendly young man showed us our rooms. We fell in love with the place immediately. But we didn't have time to muse about the beauty of this place. After dumping all our luggage, we set off towards Rapsy Restaurant for brunch.

Fagu had visited Munnar before and raved about Rapsy all the time. The place seemed to attract a healthy mix of hippy, European crowd and Indian tourists. I asked for a Spanish omelette since the ingredients looked interesting. It arrived very late, probably because the preparation of this dish takes time. It is quite a thick omelette and is filled with potatoes. It was decent and filling, but I think it could have been made better. I finished my brunch as soon as possible and we started searching for a mechanic. Both Fagu and Sheshank had minor repairs to get done: the Mach's rear left crash guard was hanging loose and the Electra's taillight assembly was on the verge of falling off. Repairs done, we immediately left post-haste for Kolukkumalai.

Kolukkumalai is the world's highest tea estate. Along with the plantations, they have a tea factory. Due to the height at which the tea leaves are picked (almost 8000 ft above sea level), the taste you get is very unique. It is around 35 kms from Munnar and the last 9-10 kms is pure off-roading. Jeeps regularly ferry tourists from Suryanelli to the factory and back, but we had other ideas. We had done a bit of research and realized that the off-roading track is difficult but doable on bikes. Without a second thought, we plunged into the track. It started drizzling slightly, so we put on our rain gear. 

The track is quite different from the off-roading I've done till date. It basically consists of small to medium sized stones that are loosely packed together. When you're on the bike, you move by jumping from one stone to the next. A whole lot of them slip underneath the tires, but we were able to finish the whole stretch without anyone falling. Initially, it is exciting, but afterwards, the continuous bone-jarring bumps irritate you. The frustration is what sees you through the last few kilometers. In the middle, the drizzle turned into rain. The jeeps stopped but we continued. Things like rain and mist are just minor irritants for BOPians, you see. 

We reached the factory finally, just as the rain was stopping. We first had some tea, before going to see the factory. I am not a tea connoisseur and I am usually clueless about the subtle differences between various types. This tea, however, had class in it. I had it black, to taste the real flavour and I found it amazing. I'll leave the rest of the details to someone more knowledgeable than me, lest I say something wrong. The factory is also very old and we got to see the workings of various machines. We realized that one type of tea is called BOP- Broken Orange Pekoe. Our club inadvertently left its mark here also!

 The rain had stopped by now, but it was an hour away from sunset and we quickly consumed another cup of the fantastic tea before starting the ride downhill. Surprisingly, the ride downhill seemed shorter. Perhaps we got used to the track. The mind can play the strangest tricks. We made short work of the remaining 25 kms to Munnar. 

Dinner was at a place recommended by Lonely Planet, called Silver Spoon. It is hidden deep inside the basement of a shopping complex. Once again, the food was fabulous. If you visit this place sometime, do try out the peas masala curry. It is a simple dish, but I've never had such delicious peas masala in any Kerala-cuisine restaurant before. 

This night's BBB session was to be a unique one. Our Delhi chapter was also riding to Deoban on the same dates. Unfortunately, a spate of last minute cancellations meant that Dips was the only Deoban Dragunov. He, however, is a one-man army. The sole Dragunov was supposed to have a video-conference BBB with the Macarenas. Dips wasn't carrying a laptop, so the video-conference part was dropped and we chatted for a while with him on the phone. We continued with our BBB afterwards, discussing in some detail about the taming of wild elephants, before turning in for the night.

(to be continued....)

BOP Bangalore Chronicles: The Munnar Macarenas ride (Part I)

BOP Bangalore completed another fantastic ride! I can't think of a better introduction, so here we go.

Dates: 17-20 April, 2014

Places covered: Munnar, Kolukkumalai and Coimbatore

Routes taken:

Bangalore-Salem-Tiruppur-Udumalpet-Munnar (while going)

Munnar-Pollachi-Coimbatore-Salem-Bangalore (on the way back)

Riders:

1. Phalgun Reddy: Royal Enfield Machismo 500
2. Sheshank Reddy: Royal Enfield Electra 5S
3. Krishnatreya Brindavanam: Royal Enfield Electra Twinspark

Total distance traversed: 1113 kms

DAY 1 (Bangalore to Munnar)

We weren't able to indulge in the pre-ride ritual of drinking together on the night before a ride, but I did have a few drinks with my colleagues in office. I prepared for the ride by listening to some catchy item-numbers. Singing helps keep me awake and I usually run out of songs to sing a few hours into the ride; thus, I created this mental catalogue of songs!

We started at 5.15 am from the Silk Board Junction. Because we had to cover 500 kms in one day, we decided to strictly stick to 100 km-pitstop schedule. We made some good progress, even with the sun beating on our heads. The key to avoid getting fried was to continue riding. This serves two purposes: you get closer to the destination, obviously, and also the warm wind is very pleasant. By lunch-time, we had covered 300+ kms and couldn't really go on. We came across an AC restaurant called Bheema's Restaurant and went in, just to escape from the heat. The food was decent, but the focus was on the cold beer. We spent quite some time here, chatting away and sipping the refreshing beer. But the best part of the ride was ahead of us and we soon left. 

For navigation, we relied on Google maps in Fagu's and Sheshank's iPhones. As we reached Udumalpet, it started to get confusing. The directions being told by the locals weren't matching with those in the maps. As we roamed around in the small town, where we had to "neraa ponga" (go straight) for every destination, we chanced upon a group of off-duty bus drivers. They grouped around us, speaking rapidly in Tamil, calling others to join in and generally creating confusion. I was getting a bad feeling about whatever was happening, but they were actually just trying to help. A couple of them were very enthusiastic and interspersed the directions with questions about our bikes and gear. In the end, it was decided that 2 of them will accompany us till the local bus stand, from where they will guide us. We noticed that Sheshank's bike was leaking oil from the air filter, so the drivers took us to a local mechanic. Turned out that it was just because of the heat. We were emphatically told to ride for 50 kms at a speed of 60 km/hr and then take a half-an-hour break to prevent further problems. We dropped the drivers off and continued with our ride. We still haven't figured out what route we took and what we were supposed to take, but the general consensus is that there was a bit of mis-navigation. Another item ticked off from BOP Ride Must-happens checklist!

We now reached the Annamalai Forest Reserve, at the edge of Tamil Nadu's state border. When you cross the border into Kerala, it becomes Chinnar Forest Reserve. Sheshank was riding ahead of us and he saw that a few cars were waiting in the middle of the road. A herd of elephants was crossing the road at that spot. As the last elephant stepped off the road, one over-enthusiastic Indica driver started off, only to back up again, as the last elephant turned around and charged towards the car. No damage was done though; the elephant was simply up to some mischief. We continued riding through the forest, this time keeping a wary eye out for any more mischievous elephants that decide to play around with metal bulls. 

The sun was setting as the ghat riding started. Before it turned dark, we were able to catch a glimpse of gentle hills covered with tea estates, looking green and vibrant. There were loads of tourists in cars, buses and jeeps and at almost every bend, there would be a group of them clicking pics of the landscape. Fagu would pause at every bend, close to the tourist group and try to see whatever they are looking at in the valley below. He probably didn't want to miss out on whatever they were looking at. Eventually though, the number of weird, startled stares he got from the tourists (multiple) was much more than the number of interesting sights spotted (zero) and he stopped with his ritual. 

I've always avoided night-riding because I've never really enjoyed it. During this ride, I realized that it was partly because of the weak headlight of my old Karizma. The Bullet's headlight is superb, in comparison and I was able to ride without any problems. The roads were well maintained and the traffic was disciplined. The others reached Munnar a few minutes before me. When I reached, we decided to split up. Fagu and Sheshank would scout for a place to stay. Advance bookings had been made using Cleartrip, so they both went off to check the hotels out. I rested for a while and started looking for an alcohol shop, for the night's BBB session. 

I was guided through the town to a government liqour shop. Now this place was unlike any other alcohol shop I've ever seen. There are two counters, one for payment and one for delivery. A heavy iron grill made a very narrow pathway, through which you approach both these counters. Only one person can fit in at a time and there is no turning back. You get into the pathway, make the payment in the first counter, take the alcohol from the second counter and exit. The most surprising aspect, however, was the crowd. ALL of them were standing in a queue! Some were slurring and barely able to stand, but they still stood in queue. Never have I seen such discipline at any theka in Noida, Delhi or Bangalore. I bought a bottle of 8 PM whisky. As it regularly happens, I made a fool of myself as I got stuck between the grill and counters due to my huge bag and arm-guards. I was getting panicky, as the people behind me and shop staff got impatient. Finally, a kind soul helped me out of the mess. I flashed him an embarrassed smile-thanks and went back to the town bazaar to wait for news from Fagu and Sheshank. 

The Cleartrip booking hadn't worked out  and there were no rooms vacant anywhere, except in one hotel. It was a tad pricey, but we didn't have the patience to search for anything else. We freshened up in the room and stepped out for dinner. There were only 3 places open at this time (9 pm). We walked into one of them, but the waiter was more intent on leaving for home and informed us that most of the dishes on the menu weren't available. We weren't keen on having Chinese food in a Kerala restaurant and walked out. We then went to the second hotel, called Sri Mahaveer. It was all empty and we expected another disappointment. Far from it. The waiter was extremely courteous and hospitable. Everything on the menu was available. Our arrival and subsequent orders spurred activity in the kitchen and we were soon digging into some very delicious food. I had a Gujarati thaali and it was fabulous. We returned to our rooms and realized we were too tired to do anything. We, however, drank a few pegs, discussed the day's ride and made tentative plans for the next day before going off to sleep.


(to be continued....)

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.