Misty Manali

Topped up my tank and left around 10 in the morning, bidding goodbye to Chandigarh. As I entered Punjab, there was a road diversion and I soon lost the way riding through deserted villages. Finally managed to hit the Ghats leading to Manali, but it started raining. I stopped for come chai and biscuits since I did not have breakfast and it was already quarter past 12. The roads were great mostly, twisting and turning around the hills. Soon I realised that Himachal Pradesh is a state that will leave you spell bound in her beauty. I spotted another bike on the way probably headed to Manali too, but since I wanted maintain the momentum I didn’t stop. I thought it would be easy to spot him when I took a break anyways, but never got to see him again. There was hardly any traffic on the road and the excitement inside was building- it was going to be my first visit to Manali.

As soon as I hit Kulu, I called up a friend to share my excitement. In another hour’s time I’d be in Manali. On the way my bike rode through a 3km tunnel, where unfortunately I was stuck behind a bus suffering from tuberculosis. On paying the ‘Green Road Tax’ of Rs.100 I entered New Manali, crossed over the bridge and reached my guesthouse in Old Manali. Here too I paid Rs.300/night. The room was spacious, with cheap wooden flooring, a big queen size bed clothed with thick velvety blankets and attached bathroom with hot water. Although there was a television, I didn’t bother to switch it On. It was a two storeyed building and my room was in the first floor, giving me ample view of the snow-capped peaks in the background. I could hear the water gushing below all day.

My neighbour was a guy from the UK by the name Martin. He had just returned from Leh that morning and told me how bad the road was due to incessant rains and landslides. I decided to spend a couple of days in Manali and the next morning rode up to Vashisht which was famous for a temple. It was a very steep ride and two Spaniards rode pillion too, which made my bull go out of breadth. My friend in Gokarna had mentioned about the Moonlight café in Old Manali, so I went there for lunch. It seemed to be a popular place among foreigners; food was decent and not too pricey. Travellers came here in groups over a game of cards and food. I liked it!

New Manali was the place where Indian tourists flocked to. Typically it was filled with shops and restaurants of all kinds. Winter wear including skull caps and gloves seem to be a thriving business and I picked a cap for one hundred bucks. To my surprise I could hardly find any firang in this place just like I couldn’t find Indian tourists in Old Manali- there was a clear demarcation.

During the evenings Martin and I bonded over a couple of beers and later coffee in the morning. He gave me some valuable tips on riding up to Leh in winter since it was my first time. Usually people ride during the months of May, June and July; during September the weather is harsher and the roads are either damaged or washed away by landslides. This am talking about Manali-Leh, while the Srinagar route is very good. Since Ive always wanted to do the Manali route, it was worth the risk and I wasn’t going to back out now. Martin mentioned to me that he and his friends had to return to Manali some 7 times just after reaching Rohtang, which is about 54 km away, due to inaccessible roads. Monsoons had made the Rohtang pass absolutely inaccessible and they had to close this stretch quite often this year….

Chandigarh

In order to beat the morning traffic I left the hostel by around 7 am. In between I got lost a bit in the city and when I approached a cop, he asked if I was going to ride all the way to chandigarh. When I told him about my journey thus far, he got excited and rode along with me until the outskirts in his patrol vehicle and wished me good luck. On reaching the highway, I stopped at a Dhaba for breakfast. The guy served me two aloo parathas with a chunk of butter melted on top of it accompanied by thick curd (plain yoghurt) and pickles. In addition to that I had two cups of chai. For all of the above he charged me Rs.48 only. Since Chandigarh wasn’t too far away, I thought I’ll ride slowly in an effort to boost the mileage (km/ltr) of my motorcycle. The roads were great right throughout and I stopped at McDonalds somewhere in the outskirts of Chandigarh. The place was filled with rich Punjabi kids and even a politician who came in with police escorts. It was about 3 pm and I tried reaching Jojo, another of Eashwar’s biking friend. As per his suggestion I managed to find a place for Rs.300/night and its called Gulati Bhavan. The room was 15’ X 20’, furnished with a huge queen size bed and an attached bathroom. Couldn’t ask for a better deal. Jojo worked in night shifts, so I we decided to meet up for dinner.

My only rendezvous with this great city is during my third year of Under Graduation wherein we learnt about the city in Contemporary Architecture. It was designed by Le Corbusier, who is also the mastermind behind most of the public buildings in this small city. There was a main arterial road which was intercepted by various cross roads, dividing the city into sectors. The city was very neat with wide roads and I even saw a lot of young women burning the tarmac in their motorbikes. Remembering a little from college, I visited the Assembly building and the Court complex and managed to click a few pictures too. Few security personnel did not take it in kind and I managed to convince them that I was a student (had my ASU Student ID card in my wallet). A torch and a small rucksack was missing in my utility kit, which took me to the shopping complex (I think Sec #17). Very efficiently planned, the entire shopping complex is centralised in a square with ample parking.

Finally met Jojo for dinner, which led us to a restaurant called Sher-e-Punjab. It was more than 10 days since I had any non-veg or alchohol and I was craving for some good food. After a quick pint of KF, we went down to the basement for food, where we were joined by another friend of Jojo’s. He did the ordering and I did all the eating. Wow, excellent afghani chicken kebab followed heavily buttered naan, butter chicken and rajma. I couldn’t breathe after the feast and found it very difficult to sleep! The next morning Jojo was kind enough to come by and send me off as I headed to the enchanting Manali.

New Delhi

Thanking Raja and his family for having me over for three days, I left to Delhi by afternoon. Just after crossing the Toll gate, I heard some noise and to my horror, the Silencer bend pipe had come off the engine. Luckily for me, I had not yet taken the flyover leading to Chanakya Puri, my destination for the night. The mechanic who had seen my bike the previous day was close by and I rode straight into his garage. There I got my silencer replaced and fine-tuned my bike once more before heading to the Youth Hotel, riding past all the foreign embassies and state offices. Since it was located in the diplomatic enclave, there was pin drop silence on the road and very meagre traffic on the well laid tarmac. On showing my membership card I was given a dormitory for Rs.275/night. The place was neatly maintained and I was honestly surprised how organised things were. There was a German couple at the counter, who were told that a guy and a girl cannot stay together in a room. I still remember the shock on their faces, and felt sorry for them. At my dorm there were some 10 bunk beds in a two tier fashion. There were a few others staying there and to my surprise I was the only traveller there and to top it, none of the others held a Youth Hostel International membership card even. In fact they seemed to be surprised asking what a traveller was doing there. Two of them were lawyers, one an artisan and two others had come for a presentation. One of the lawyer guy sported an orange tikka on his forehead and started asking about my religion just after the introduction formalities. It made me very uncomfortable. When I told him that I do not practice any religion, he did not understand but clearly seemed offended. I get this kick when I flummox people, for not being what they expect me to be. The other lawyer guy seemed to be a nice person boasting of many high level connections. He told me that he was on the main counsel team defending A Raja, the ex-telecom Minister languishing in the prison for the 2G scam. Was wondering why then was he staying in a dormitory for 300 bucks a night? The artisan guy was from Madhya Pradesh and he had a bachelor’s degree in Architecture. He informed me that he had come to perform in front of a panel which issued grants for certain native arts forms which were fading with time. I remember him telling me that it was similar to Poi Kaal Kuthirai which was prevalent in Tamil Nadu. Apart from these interesting characters, there were two other guys who had come to attend a seminar as part of the ‘Landmark’ course, which was a self-development program. One of them was a veteran while his friend a novice who had joined the program only a few months earlier. The latter was very enthusiastic and kept telling me about how it can improve your life and ‘take communication to the next level’. Although Ive heard about this ‘Landmark’ thingy from my friends earlier, I pretended as if I didn’t know anything and kept asking him questions. There are a lot of good things one can learn from these programs, but to see people blinded by the thought that your life will change overnight, is very disheartening. The next day I decided to hit Karol Bagh to shop for some spares and thermals. I have seen GP road in Chennai and JC Street in Bangalore, but this was something else. Since there would be limited access to fuel stations in Ladakh, I replaced my stock petrol tank with a larger one (20 litres). Raingear and thermals were found in a different area in Karol Bagh and as I proceeded to leave the place, I got totally lost and it had just started raining too. After going round and round, I managed to reach the hostel by around 10 pm. Lesson learnt- never go to Karol Bagh in your own vehicle, parking is next to impossible! The next day I had to leave early to reach Chandigarh.

At my friends place in Gurgaon

Having recovered from a violent bout of flu, I bid goodbye to Agra and headed towards the capital city. My good friend Raja lives in Gurgaon with his pretty wife Sushmita and my visit coincided with the arrival of his parents the day before. Although we studied together in high school, we got to know each other better during his days in IIM-Bangalore (by any chance did you assume that I passed out of the same institution? I pretty well know that those who have known me for years now will never commit such an error and my joy filled thanks to the others who did think for a moment that there too. Ive been too much of a rebel and vagabond to excel in academics, so clearly am no IIM material.), while I was employed there. I remember spending quite a few weekends in his hostel room among the brighter brains. Our friend had over the years transformed from being a pazham/nerd/padipps to indulging in a few human vices, although he hasn’t yet managed to get rid of the good boy image and am sure it’ll stick on to him forever! Three hours of riding took me to Gurgaon, while it was a tough task to locate Raja’s flat among the maze of some 50 high storied apartment blocks. I have never managed to understand the manner in which houses are numbered; very hard to see a sequence. Since both of them were at work, I was received by his parents who would’ve clearly wondered what an idiot I must be to ride all the way from south. It must have been a shocker to any orthodox Brahmin family. After ten minutes of chit chat, aunty offered me to cook some quick lunch. For a south Indian having been on road for a month now, mostly feeding on roti and dal, it was hard to refuse home cooked iyer food. A plate full of steaming white rice, dollops of ghee melted on top of it, mixed with yellow dal (lentils) served with our very old potato fry!! His parents watched in awe at this malnourished thing wiping off the plate in no time. I had to finally say enough before they started regretting why they let me in in the first place. Having re-energized myself, it was time to fulfil my objective. Before reaching Gurgaon, I had already informed Raja, my main motive of stopping at to his place enroute to Leh- get my clothes washed! Luckily for me, he had informed this to uncle and aunty too. Shameless that I was, went ahead with the job immediately after the gluttony that I had committed. The speedometer cable in my motorcycle had been cut somewhere in Rajasthan and I wanted to get it fixed at the earliest. Since it was a few hours until Raja came home, I went out to explore the neighbourhood and hoped to get the cable fixed too. Gurgaon is a concrete jungle; huge skyscrapers lined along the roads which were heavily battered by overloaded traffic and the recent monsoons. There were malls everywhere- what on earth will people buy every day? By late evening Raja reached home and I met Sushmita for the first time (she looked like a college going kid actually). We had a late dinner and a nice chat while I shared pictures from the travel so far. The next day I managed to locate the Royal Enfield service center with the Raja’s help and managed to get my speedo fixed along with the oil change. My friend decided to take his family to an exhibition in the capital city- Delhi Ghat. I parked my bike at the metro station and took the metro train. It was impressive! Wish every metro city in the country had this facility. A pretty girl who seemed to be in her early twenties was sitting across me, while I preferred to stand. She was about five foot tall with an athletic build, a bit flat nose and white skin. Was she from South America? May be yes, or maybe not. How did I know she was a traveller? Typical characteristics like a map in hand, Aladdin pants, flip flops and a rucksack! The poor girl was being squashed by the locals on either side; unsurprisingly not by young boys, but middle aged men. This pervert was about 45 years old and he kept falling on her every now and then, while shouting on the top of his voice in his mobile phone. She finally couldn’t tolerate it anymore and just got up from her seat. No wonder ive heard New Delhi is very unsafe for woman travellers! The exhibition had food counters and handicrafts from most of the states across the country and I filled my stomach with momos and mishit doi. My friend had some shopping to do and we reached home by around 10 pm. The next day I had planned to leave to Delhi and stay there for a couple of days.

Wah Taj!!!

My first visit to Jaipur was a tad disappointing I must say. For the first time in a month, I experienced very hot and dusty conditions. Due to budget constrains I could only pick a non air conditioned room, which later proved to be a wrong decision. Since the Taj was on my must see list, i skipped Jaipur sight seeing and headed straight to Agra the next morning, where Eashwar's biker friends Tanveer and Co helped me find a guest house. I was told that the best time to visit the Taj was early in the morning. The heat was already taking the toll on me and i started feeling very uncomfortable.  Anyways planned to visit the monument next morning and then head straight to Gurgaon after that.

The next morning was up at 6:00 hrs and couldnt restrain my excitement. Finally for the first time in my life I was  looking at the most celebrated symbol of love from the banks of river Yamuna. Since Eid was celebrated that day, the entry was free, and thousands of ppl flocked in their pristine white clothes to attend the Namaaz and greet each other.It took a few minutes to sink in the thought that I was actually in Taj Mahal. The symmetrically designed gardens on either side of the water channel overlooked by massive white marble structures was a great sight to watch. The huge pool of water, where ppl washed their faces, hands and legs before entering the dargah, was engulfed by a sea of white kurtas. The lawns and tress was immaculately maintained and just like me the tourists from other countries were clicking away pictures in awe.

Banks of river Yamuna

Ive heard people saying that you get overwhelmed by the feeling of Love and Romance, on seeing Taj Mahal. Personally, I think its an overstatement  for I must confess that I could never for even a moment relate the beautiful campus to 'love'. Movies have romanticised this architectural wonder over a period of time.

On reaching my guesthouse i felt very tired and decided to sleep for a couple of hours so that I could ride to Gurgaon in better shape. By noon I realised that for the first time in this journey I fell sick, the temperature rose steeply, I was perspiring, sneezing, breathing with difficulty and stone dead tired.I slept for the next 50 hours and left to Gurgaon only after I recovered fully.

Kumbalgarh Fort, Rajasthan

It has been nearly three months since my last post. I think its high time I updated my travelogue before my memory starts failing me. What I'll do with the format is, instead of mentioning days, i'll stick to the places alone. There are quite a few pics which will describe the journey more colourfully.

Vikram and Eva had planned to return to Ahmedabad by Sunday night, but decided to halt since it didnt make sense to miss the Sound and Light show at the fort, which was at 7 pm.

Vikram at his posing best! (couldnt resist posting it.:)

Outside our tents

 We therefore checked out by noon and found another guest house which cost us less than 500 bucks. A group of 26 bikers from Udaipur invited us for lunch after learning that we rode all the way from Ahmedabad.

After a decent lunch, we had a good afternoon siesta and then rode to the fort.

Kids playing along the roadside pool

An intimidating entrance gateway led to steep range of steps. Before Vikram and I could plot our strategy to start our climb, Eva was well over the top, posing for pictures with the locals, who thought she was from the Oriental East.

The best thing about the locals was that whenever they saw some outsider with a camera, immediately they start posing for pictures. At first I didnt understand, but then was more than happy to click away pictures capturing wonderful smiles and colourful clothing.

Once you reach the top, you realise that the fort actually runs along a huge mass of land housing a number of temple complexes and it is inevitable to avoid comparisons to the Great Wall of China. We were told that the total running distance of the fort was 38km, which was very impressive considering the height at which it was built. It was built by Rana Kumbha in the 15th century.

Fort during the Sound and Light Show

The next day they headed back to Ahmedabad, while I rode towards the Pink city-Jaipur.