I am in the hearts of many men. For some, I am their better half, regardless of the gender, ‘coz like in many relationships, it is the attraction, happiness and the divine feeling that when we are together, we never feel like two different people, makes us fall in love.
For the others, I am the ultimate fantasy.
Sometimes I am the Queen, and I am definitely, THE KING.
In spite of all the aliases, I am the Monarch,
I am… The Royal Enfield Bullet.
Bloodline: 1977, 350cc Prime.
Red Tape Code: MEN 1834
This is the account of my life on the 2nd of October 2010, when Saravanan my partner, Abhinav and I had plans to get some country side air over the weekend.
It was a chilly morning. I was waiting in the parking lot at Abhi’s place losing sleep over the thought of Saravanan spending his night inside the house. Wondering why they didn’t let me in. May be because I couldn’t take my shoes off.
At around 4:45 am I heard a few voices, then a few lights lit up and so did my eyes. Was disappointed to see that it was Abhi’s dad who came out to walk the dogs. Then the door opened again, this time it was Saravanan followed by Abhi and then his mom nagging him to wear something warm.
I was down with a slight cold and fever but nevertheless stretched my spine and flexed my muscles silently, all set to rip the tarmac.
Saravanan first took control of my emotions, just like a good partner, he knew how I liked to be treated. We set off on a sleepy road to Mysore, good to drive while you are gathering your marbles after a good nights sleep. Only that you gather them faster when you are looking forward to doing something. Soon the two of them settled down well into their saddles and I, on the smooth road with my heart now thumping harder. It was going to be my ultimate cardio workout.
05:10 hrs
10 KMs away from home. Stopped to get my spirits, Unlike Abhi, I wasn’t a teetotaler and needed a lot of spirit to keep me going, and unlike me, both of them could wait for breakfast.
Mysore road is one of the best roads around Bangalore to go on a long ride. 4 lane carriageway, long stretches between gaps in the median and good scenery. As mesmerizing as it is, the rider still has to keep his eyes open for jay walkers and streakers.
We did Bangalore Mysore almost non-stop and were out of Mysore by 07:15 before Saravanan and Abhi’s tummies joined the thumping of my heart.
We stopped at a roadside restaurant just before Nanjangud for breakfast and again, I was not allowed inside. So it is not only the shoes after all.
After about 20 mins, I saw them come out with happy faces, evidently satisfied with the great Dosa, Poori, Idly, Vada and Tea they had stuffed their stomach with as I overheard them praising the food and the measly bill of 56 INR.
I rode again and as we approached the bridge over a river Kabini, Abhi asked Saravanan to stop. Wondering why I looked around only to realize that for Abhi, it was a matter of the heart.
Between the road bridge and the newly laid Broad gauge railway Bridge, was the old meter gauge railway bridge with a few coaches from the old Mysore Nanjangud Chamarajanagar passenger train, which was operational until a couple of years ago, parked on it. It made a pretty sight and the light in Abhi’s eyes rivaled the high beam lamps from trucks that trouble me when it is dark.
As a double treat for him, a passenger train crossed the bridge on the new line, which was aligned a few meters above the old line. The new train passing over the old train told a story of how the glamour, nostalgia and romance of the cute meter gauge railway was overtaken by the practicality of the broad gauge.
As we moved on Abhi pierced our ears with his story of the old Meter Gauge train, how it was so romantic, cutesy. How his heart bled coz they didn’t preserve it in working condition and how he was not rich enough to buy one of the coaches or locos when they actually went on sale.
All this stopped as we stopped suddenly again. This time too, it was his highness lord Abhi, the duke of obsession. It was the same Meter Gauge story again, only this time, his weeping had stopped as he spotted some more coaches and a cuter two coach rail-bus parked on the old line a few hundred meters away from the bridge. GOD! I thought he was only obsessed with his new Canon.
They parked me again and went up to check out the rail bus. Again, I don’t understand why they leave me behind. It hurt even more as I thought about how Saravanan, who called me his own train, who loved the heavy metal symphony created by the sounds of my engine and exhaust, was having fun with that idiot on the train that didn’t work.
Abhi fired his camera away, taking pictures and his mouth away, giving Sarva gyan on the bus and again feeling bad about not being able to own one. Huh! This guy is out of his mind. Own one???
We trundled onwards on the bad stretch of road between Mysore and Nanjangud. Somewhere after Nanjangud Abhi took the rider’s seat. If not for the soft foam it would have been like somebody put two big chopsticks on my back. (Which, as I learnt later, he also realized coz he was complaining of a feeling that was like a horse with iron shoes was made to dance on his back side). I wasn’t liking it, spouse swapping is still not our tradition.
He was not used to me but was a quick learner and soon we were working well together and reached Gundlupet in no time. Stopped by an ATM where Sarva went to get some more paper and Abhi returned a call.
Back on the road again, we were doing a 100 before my lungs went dry and I started coughing, remember I told you about having a cold, yep, this happened at high revs a few times earlier and was like that throughout the day, sometimes worse.
After Gundlupet the human population thinned considerably and the old single carriageway had little traffic with a few cars, buses and trucks, and an odd dog or a cow apart from that, I thundered on, past the amazing scenery towards the Bandipur forests. The road had a few long straight high speed stretches and across the horizon, The Nilgiris beckoned.
Bandipur forest reserve is a vast expanse of thick ever green forests spreading across the South Indian states of Karnataka, Tamilnadu and Kerala. It is called the Mudumalai on the Tamilnadu side and may be something else in Kerala. There are numerous signs pleading humans who pass through these forests to let the animals live in peace. But you know how humans can be. Sorry but I have to say this. Even I wasn't happy that my heart beat was louder than those of most other breeds of my species. I felt bad but couldn’t help. I uttered a few apologies and lost breath more often. (Saravanan spent a lot of time cranking me up as Abhi had still not learnt the trick. So he let Sarva’s toned calf muscles do the job. Loser)
The forests are a sight to sore eyes, unlike high streets in cities, you never get tired of going through this place again and again. Every day, every turn throws up new sights and sounds. Deers jumping, Elephants strolling, Peacocks blushing as you admire them. An odd Tiger or Leopard streaking across the road. All with generous quantities of green and brown color, served with pleasant weather. Just Amazing.
We passed by the Bandipur Nature Camp, which offers safari tours through the forest and accommodation and food for travelers who want to experience staying in the wild. It is a nice place, but only before people start arriving.
Most of them don’t respect the sanctity of the forests and treat it like their backyard. Unlike the Kulgi at Dandeli, this is more accessible and thats why there is always a disrespectful crowd.
As we passed by, it was still early and we continued our journey admiring the wild and tending to my cold.
We went past the state border check post. Sarva’s Tamil language skills helping us get past the checking quicker than usual.
We reached the Mudumalai forest Nature Camp, which was quite like the one at Bandipur in all respects only that it had a town attached to it. Took a left turn, deviating from the main road and going over the narrow bridge and sped on, to the next town where I stopped for a drink. There was no Kingfisher but the Essar branded spirit was good and charged me up well.
We went past many miles of green forests and the Nilgiri’s, which lined the horizon a couple of hours ago, were now towering over us, growing bigger every passing mile until they were like arms offering a comforting hug.
We reached the foothills and from here progress was slow. This was the tougher option of the two routes from Mudumalai town to Ooty, fondly called the queen of the hill stations. The one we didn’t take (as we deviated by taking a left turn on to the narrow bridge) was the easier but longer one passing through Gudalur, used by the heavier vehicles like buses and trucks.
We, like we had decided, took the one that was much steeper, with sharper bends on one hand, but more adventurous, offering better views and more challenges on the other.
On a two wheels and a prayer, we took on the Nilgiris. Her bends were graceful to look at, but we had to be even more graceful in order to tame them. My cold caught on to me constantly but the other guys took it in their stride and looked after me well.
We first stopped at the Bison View Point where Sarva and Abhi went off for a couple of minutes to see the valley. When they returned they saw my sad face and noticed that a few brat primates had nibbled a bit of the rider’s saddle. Saravanan consoled Abhi and me saying that it was only the innocent monkeys and we’d get it fixed once we are back home. We realized later that he was a big devotee of Lord Hanuman, the monkey god and India’s first Super Hero.
We went on, past the Kalahatty Falls View Point after which, at the next bend I lost breath again. Sarva stopped suddenly to avoid rolling backwards over the hair pin bend. After a few cranks, I started again towards Ooty that was only 14 Kms away.
A few meters after that I started shaking my hips, not because I was excited, but because my back side lost its air and consequently, the footing. In simple terms, I had a crisis that most motorcyclists dread, a puncture.
Tears were about to well up in my eyes when Saravanan and Abhi said it was a nice experience. What??? Yeah I heard them right. For them my handicap was a sense of occasion, more involvement and more stories to tell. Sigh, At least they were happy.
After they had their laughs and discussion, Sarva parked me next to the hill side away from the line of traffic and armed with his knowledge of Tamil, went back towards Kalahatty to find help leaving Abhi behind to look after me. That hopeless guy left me alone as well and went uphill to spend some time with his Canon. At least he spared a thought to take the keys with him, putting a virtual Laxman Rekha preventing any Raavan from kidnapping me. Thank you Doordarshan.
Sarva came back with some bad news. The nearest garage was six kilometers uphill and the only way to get there was by pushing me. I was not someone who you’d call lean. I was fit, but to be fit like me I had to have a lot of metal muscle. Sarva could not expect Abhi to push and decided that anyway we’ll have to change the tube so might as well ride uphill on the flat tyre.
They decided that Abhi will walk back to Kalahatty and take a bus uphill to Thallakundy and Sarva and I will ride up with my own power and find a doctor.
I battled the inclines and struggled through every inch in pain (now we know why wounds of battle are never left to heal, all the endurance makes warriors take pride in them).
Sarva was being as gentle as possible but a little over a kilometer away from the doctor’s, I gave up.
Saravanan’s regular workouts had their ultimate test as he pushed me up the steep slope around the unforgiving hairpin bends, trying to call Abhinav whose phone was not reachable. I felt sorry, but I could not help, again.
In the meanwhile Abhi was enjoying his life downhill. As he waited for the bus, he took a walk around that place. Could spend time with himself, which he loves to do whenever he gets a chance. Looked forward to the bus ride. But he did spare us a thought every now and then.
He also made an interesting observation. The roads were full of signs (read SIGNS), so many of them that they could possibly be the inspiration behind Manoj Shyamalan’s movie. Bad joke, forgive him.
The bus arrived about 20 mins late, 35 minutes after we parted. He hopped on and took the only available seat in the last row. Paid INR 3.50 to the nice conductor for a 6 Kilometer ride uphill. Evidently these guys are still ignorant of the terms ‘recession’ the ‘inflation’. The same ride on good, less risky roads in Bangalore would cost him at least INR 8.00 on a similar bus.
After taking the seat he took a couple of pics as memories and soaked in the lives of the simple, unassuming friendly looking local people on the bus. Also showed off his snaps, though indirectly (he was browsing them while being aware that his neighbors were peeping at his cam’s LCD screen). In broken Tamil, asked his neighbor to tell him when the bus reaches Thallakundy.
As the bus passed by little towns, a nice little church and a volley ball match, through the clouds, Abhi had time to snooze for a few minutes. Lucky fool.
We had just reached Thallakundy and it was COLD. Like someone just put us in a freezer. Saravanan was sweating and shivering at the same time. Then we reached the doc only to find out that he was a wildlife specialist. Treated only bison like trucks, buses, vans, cars etc. and was sorry he could not help me.
Time, was not running out. It wasn’t a matter of life and death. Saravanan was trying to work out the possibilities with the doctor when I heard a familiar click behind me. Yahoo! it was Canon and her friend Abhi. He had finally found us and took a discreet picture of me at the garage.
Saravanan and Abhi, along with the mechs decided that we should put me in an ambulance and transport me to Ooty for a rubber transplant. All the flat footed travel uphill had torn off the tire’s walls.
Again, Saravanan left me with Abhi and went down the road to find the ambulance. A few minutes later, it arrived, a white Mahindra Pickup.
6 sort of able bodied men lifted me up into the pick up truck. Saravanan and Abhi Joined me later to ensure I stood still as the truck made its way up, down and around the curvy hill road to Ooty. Due to this Sarva didn’t allow Abhi to take his cam out. Poor guy, this was the only time I felt bad for him.
It was a never before sight seeing experience. Traveling in the cargo area of the open truck we had great views without worrying about driving or navigating. One of the best city tours so far. It wasn’t in a Mercedes Benz or a Range Rover. nevertheless we felt privileged and enjoyed every bit of it.
At Ooty the driver and his assistant helped us find a tire shop and then a mechanic before they took leave. The Mechie put a spanner through my joints, removed the wheel and took the deflated tire apart. Within minutes the wheel was ready with the new tire. My diwali gift from Saravanan. It felt good and I was slightly better equipped to do my job.
Then we went for lunch and the boys cracked a joke. What would we tell when we discussed the weekend at work. We’d say we went to replace the tire of the bike and later we had lunch together, and for that we went to Ooty : )
Abhi wanted to see the 100 year old Heritage Nilgiri Mountain Railway, though he sulked at not having enough time to take a ride in it. He just bought a ticket for keepsake. As it was almost time for departure, Sarva went to buy the ticket, and Abhi went on to the tracks to take some pictures of the train. Just before the train left Sarva came and a few pictures later, we, all of us and the train were ready to leave.
Abhi went down the nearby bridge to take another picture of the train while Saravanan came back to me at the parking lot and we went to pick Abhi up.
Abhi wanted to pick up some chocolates for his mom, now that he had to tell her about the Ooty trip, he decided to add some flavor to it. Sarva wanted to ride a horse so after the chocolates we went to the boating area where we expected to find some horses. There were a few, but none of them like how Sarva wanted them to be. He said there are better ones at Conoor, a beautiful little town 16 KMs down south of Ooty. Sadly we didn’t have enough time to go there.
15:00 Hrs
As we started back towards Bangalore Ooty started getting cooler. By the time we rode a few miles, Sarva’s hands were numb.
We rode out of Ooty into Thallakundy where we waved grateful good-byes to the first mechanics and started our descent of the mighty Nilgiris.
Going uphill is tough but going downhill, is the toughest. No throttle, only restricting the speed of descent by traveling in lower gears and generous use of brakes and there are the deadly, sharp hair pin bends. 36 of them.
So much that when we stopped at another view point, Abhi jumped off the bike, over the wall, to take some pictures of the landscape through the valley, partly bathed in sunlight with scattered white clouds and a little overcast. Saravanan called him for the water bottle, not for a sip but to pour on the rear brakes which were smoking and in the danger of catching fire. Earlier in Ooty, there was some smoke from the gear box as well. But I am built tough. So the other two were confident.
Our idea was to reach Mysore before dark. Coz the road from there to Bangalore is better suited for night journeys on a bike unlike the ones till Mysore. But the rain gods had other plans for us.
We stopped over a bridge across a fairly wide stream to see an elephant drinking water a few meters away. Abhi took his cam out for a few pics but just as he was about to take any, it started pouring. He hurriedly bent over the cam to protect it from the rain drops but it had already taken a few hits. He put a cap over the cam and took pics of the tusker and wiped the cam before putting it back in its bag. When they turned back towards me, they found the front brakes smoking.
Abhi, now used to my predictable ways, continued tending to his cam while Saravanan explained the science behind the smoke to some Malayali passers by. There were a lot of primates in the thick bamboo lining the sides of the stream near the bridge. They were happily accepting food from the travelers who stopped and playing in the rain while we waited, for the rains to stop, under a thick bamboo bush or whatever that kept us dry.
We set off again, this time Abhi’s cam was sealed in its Lowepro Holster which meant that there would be fewer stops on the way. We were wrong here as you will figure out later.
It was around 16:30 hrs when we left the bridge. We went towards Mudumalai, during which the rain caught up with us and gave us a good wash down. There was also a peacock sitting gracefully on a low dry branch with its beautiful plumage of colorful feathers flowing down. Just a few feet away from us. But because it was raining we couldn’t take pictures. Abhi, for that moment, wanted to be in a car with a telephoto lens so that he could take pics without worrying about the rain or the distance.
At Mudumalai, Abhi took the driver’s seat again and we decided to ram the road humps with an iron fist, i.e. not slow down while going over them. But some of them were like Usain Bolt’s spine and sent shivers down ours as we hit them.
It was about 19:00 hrs when we just went past Nanjangud. Soaked and cold we stopped by the rail bus again as the boys went behind the tree for something and came back deciding it was time for a driver change.
From here miles were longer and time flew faster. Bad roads and incessant rains meant that our average speed was really low.
We stopped a couple of times at bus stops and odd shelters before we entered Mysore. We missed a turn which meant we had to now take the slower road through the city centre.
We went past the wet streets, out of the city and past the historic town of Srirangapatna before deciding to stop for dinner at a road side restaurant.
Sadly they didn’t serve my spirit there, so I waited outside. After dinner we found the pub where I got my fuel. We reached Mandya, the Sugar capital of Karnataka and where road humps were like tummies of healthy Indian politicians, big, round and smooth.
We stopped a couple of times at Mandya to take shelter (not for me though) from the rain. Sarva even suggested we all take a train back to Bangalore from the nearby railway station. Or that Abhi could take a bus while we rode back. But Abhi said that the trip should be completed like the way it was meant to be. Then the rain took a breather and we took off.
We then decided that we were catching up with the rain every time, so it would be better if we risk it a bit and overtake the rain.
Sarva who was riding did well with the overtaking as we passed through two big showers and got out on the other side.
Now with the rains behind us, we followed speeding cars who did a good job of guiding us through the highways as their behavior informed us well in advance of any hurdles like traffic, gaps in the medians and more importantly, pot holes and speed breakers.
Abhi, whose chopstick back side was now crying in agony and whose shoulders felt like somebody had put some hot coals on them, once asked Sarva if he could let him ride. Sarva who was now enjoying the free spirited riding said he would but after some more time. Abhi never asked and Sarva never offered. Through all this Abhi was singing in pain. It was more like braying but I could understand his plight so I powered on trying to get to his house as fast as possible.
22:45 hrs
Billu and Bunty, Abhi’s two Labradors woke his mom up as she was dozing off in front of the TV. We silently pushed the bike into the parking and Abhi was still singing in miffed tones. They patted me good night and went in to relieve themselves of the luggage and wet clothes and recollect the events of the day before dying. They lay dead till 8:00 am the next day.
Moral:
You can actually go for lunch to Ooty.
All Bullet Owners should also own a 24 sized spanner.
There is always a first time for anything.
Some fat that Abhi lacked is best not reduced.
For the others, I am the ultimate fantasy.
Sometimes I am the Queen, and I am definitely, THE KING.
In spite of all the aliases, I am the Monarch,
I am… The Royal Enfield Bullet.
Bloodline: 1977, 350cc Prime.
Red Tape Code: MEN 1834
This is the account of my life on the 2nd of October 2010, when Saravanan my partner, Abhinav and I had plans to get some country side air over the weekend.
It was a chilly morning. I was waiting in the parking lot at Abhi’s place losing sleep over the thought of Saravanan spending his night inside the house. Wondering why they didn’t let me in. May be because I couldn’t take my shoes off.
At around 4:45 am I heard a few voices, then a few lights lit up and so did my eyes. Was disappointed to see that it was Abhi’s dad who came out to walk the dogs. Then the door opened again, this time it was Saravanan followed by Abhi and then his mom nagging him to wear something warm.
I was down with a slight cold and fever but nevertheless stretched my spine and flexed my muscles silently, all set to rip the tarmac.
Saravanan first took control of my emotions, just like a good partner, he knew how I liked to be treated. We set off on a sleepy road to Mysore, good to drive while you are gathering your marbles after a good nights sleep. Only that you gather them faster when you are looking forward to doing something. Soon the two of them settled down well into their saddles and I, on the smooth road with my heart now thumping harder. It was going to be my ultimate cardio workout.
05:10 hrs
10 KMs away from home. Stopped to get my spirits, Unlike Abhi, I wasn’t a teetotaler and needed a lot of spirit to keep me going, and unlike me, both of them could wait for breakfast.
Mysore road is one of the best roads around Bangalore to go on a long ride. 4 lane carriageway, long stretches between gaps in the median and good scenery. As mesmerizing as it is, the rider still has to keep his eyes open for jay walkers and streakers.
We did Bangalore Mysore almost non-stop and were out of Mysore by 07:15 before Saravanan and Abhi’s tummies joined the thumping of my heart.
We stopped at a roadside restaurant just before Nanjangud for breakfast and again, I was not allowed inside. So it is not only the shoes after all.
After about 20 mins, I saw them come out with happy faces, evidently satisfied with the great Dosa, Poori, Idly, Vada and Tea they had stuffed their stomach with as I overheard them praising the food and the measly bill of 56 INR.
I rode again and as we approached the bridge over a river Kabini, Abhi asked Saravanan to stop. Wondering why I looked around only to realize that for Abhi, it was a matter of the heart.
Between the road bridge and the newly laid Broad gauge railway Bridge, was the old meter gauge railway bridge with a few coaches from the old Mysore Nanjangud Chamarajanagar passenger train, which was operational until a couple of years ago, parked on it. It made a pretty sight and the light in Abhi’s eyes rivaled the high beam lamps from trucks that trouble me when it is dark.
As a double treat for him, a passenger train crossed the bridge on the new line, which was aligned a few meters above the old line. The new train passing over the old train told a story of how the glamour, nostalgia and romance of the cute meter gauge railway was overtaken by the practicality of the broad gauge.
As we moved on Abhi pierced our ears with his story of the old Meter Gauge train, how it was so romantic, cutesy. How his heart bled coz they didn’t preserve it in working condition and how he was not rich enough to buy one of the coaches or locos when they actually went on sale.
All this stopped as we stopped suddenly again. This time too, it was his highness lord Abhi, the duke of obsession. It was the same Meter Gauge story again, only this time, his weeping had stopped as he spotted some more coaches and a cuter two coach rail-bus parked on the old line a few hundred meters away from the bridge. GOD! I thought he was only obsessed with his new Canon.
They parked me again and went up to check out the rail bus. Again, I don’t understand why they leave me behind. It hurt even more as I thought about how Saravanan, who called me his own train, who loved the heavy metal symphony created by the sounds of my engine and exhaust, was having fun with that idiot on the train that didn’t work.
Abhi fired his camera away, taking pictures and his mouth away, giving Sarva gyan on the bus and again feeling bad about not being able to own one. Huh! This guy is out of his mind. Own one???
We trundled onwards on the bad stretch of road between Mysore and Nanjangud. Somewhere after Nanjangud Abhi took the rider’s seat. If not for the soft foam it would have been like somebody put two big chopsticks on my back. (Which, as I learnt later, he also realized coz he was complaining of a feeling that was like a horse with iron shoes was made to dance on his back side). I wasn’t liking it, spouse swapping is still not our tradition.
He was not used to me but was a quick learner and soon we were working well together and reached Gundlupet in no time. Stopped by an ATM where Sarva went to get some more paper and Abhi returned a call.
Back on the road again, we were doing a 100 before my lungs went dry and I started coughing, remember I told you about having a cold, yep, this happened at high revs a few times earlier and was like that throughout the day, sometimes worse.
After Gundlupet the human population thinned considerably and the old single carriageway had little traffic with a few cars, buses and trucks, and an odd dog or a cow apart from that, I thundered on, past the amazing scenery towards the Bandipur forests. The road had a few long straight high speed stretches and across the horizon, The Nilgiris beckoned.
Bandipur forest reserve is a vast expanse of thick ever green forests spreading across the South Indian states of Karnataka, Tamilnadu and Kerala. It is called the Mudumalai on the Tamilnadu side and may be something else in Kerala. There are numerous signs pleading humans who pass through these forests to let the animals live in peace. But you know how humans can be. Sorry but I have to say this. Even I wasn't happy that my heart beat was louder than those of most other breeds of my species. I felt bad but couldn’t help. I uttered a few apologies and lost breath more often. (Saravanan spent a lot of time cranking me up as Abhi had still not learnt the trick. So he let Sarva’s toned calf muscles do the job. Loser)
The forests are a sight to sore eyes, unlike high streets in cities, you never get tired of going through this place again and again. Every day, every turn throws up new sights and sounds. Deers jumping, Elephants strolling, Peacocks blushing as you admire them. An odd Tiger or Leopard streaking across the road. All with generous quantities of green and brown color, served with pleasant weather. Just Amazing.
We passed by the Bandipur Nature Camp, which offers safari tours through the forest and accommodation and food for travelers who want to experience staying in the wild. It is a nice place, but only before people start arriving.
Most of them don’t respect the sanctity of the forests and treat it like their backyard. Unlike the Kulgi at Dandeli, this is more accessible and thats why there is always a disrespectful crowd.
As we passed by, it was still early and we continued our journey admiring the wild and tending to my cold.
We went past the state border check post. Sarva’s Tamil language skills helping us get past the checking quicker than usual.
We reached the Mudumalai forest Nature Camp, which was quite like the one at Bandipur in all respects only that it had a town attached to it. Took a left turn, deviating from the main road and going over the narrow bridge and sped on, to the next town where I stopped for a drink. There was no Kingfisher but the Essar branded spirit was good and charged me up well.
We went past many miles of green forests and the Nilgiri’s, which lined the horizon a couple of hours ago, were now towering over us, growing bigger every passing mile until they were like arms offering a comforting hug.
We reached the foothills and from here progress was slow. This was the tougher option of the two routes from Mudumalai town to Ooty, fondly called the queen of the hill stations. The one we didn’t take (as we deviated by taking a left turn on to the narrow bridge) was the easier but longer one passing through Gudalur, used by the heavier vehicles like buses and trucks.
We, like we had decided, took the one that was much steeper, with sharper bends on one hand, but more adventurous, offering better views and more challenges on the other.
On a two wheels and a prayer, we took on the Nilgiris. Her bends were graceful to look at, but we had to be even more graceful in order to tame them. My cold caught on to me constantly but the other guys took it in their stride and looked after me well.
We first stopped at the Bison View Point where Sarva and Abhi went off for a couple of minutes to see the valley. When they returned they saw my sad face and noticed that a few brat primates had nibbled a bit of the rider’s saddle. Saravanan consoled Abhi and me saying that it was only the innocent monkeys and we’d get it fixed once we are back home. We realized later that he was a big devotee of Lord Hanuman, the monkey god and India’s first Super Hero.
We went on, past the Kalahatty Falls View Point after which, at the next bend I lost breath again. Sarva stopped suddenly to avoid rolling backwards over the hair pin bend. After a few cranks, I started again towards Ooty that was only 14 Kms away.
A few meters after that I started shaking my hips, not because I was excited, but because my back side lost its air and consequently, the footing. In simple terms, I had a crisis that most motorcyclists dread, a puncture.
Tears were about to well up in my eyes when Saravanan and Abhi said it was a nice experience. What??? Yeah I heard them right. For them my handicap was a sense of occasion, more involvement and more stories to tell. Sigh, At least they were happy.
After they had their laughs and discussion, Sarva parked me next to the hill side away from the line of traffic and armed with his knowledge of Tamil, went back towards Kalahatty to find help leaving Abhi behind to look after me. That hopeless guy left me alone as well and went uphill to spend some time with his Canon. At least he spared a thought to take the keys with him, putting a virtual Laxman Rekha preventing any Raavan from kidnapping me. Thank you Doordarshan.
Sarva came back with some bad news. The nearest garage was six kilometers uphill and the only way to get there was by pushing me. I was not someone who you’d call lean. I was fit, but to be fit like me I had to have a lot of metal muscle. Sarva could not expect Abhi to push and decided that anyway we’ll have to change the tube so might as well ride uphill on the flat tyre.
They decided that Abhi will walk back to Kalahatty and take a bus uphill to Thallakundy and Sarva and I will ride up with my own power and find a doctor.
I battled the inclines and struggled through every inch in pain (now we know why wounds of battle are never left to heal, all the endurance makes warriors take pride in them).
Sarva was being as gentle as possible but a little over a kilometer away from the doctor’s, I gave up.
Saravanan’s regular workouts had their ultimate test as he pushed me up the steep slope around the unforgiving hairpin bends, trying to call Abhinav whose phone was not reachable. I felt sorry, but I could not help, again.
In the meanwhile Abhi was enjoying his life downhill. As he waited for the bus, he took a walk around that place. Could spend time with himself, which he loves to do whenever he gets a chance. Looked forward to the bus ride. But he did spare us a thought every now and then.
He also made an interesting observation. The roads were full of signs (read SIGNS), so many of them that they could possibly be the inspiration behind Manoj Shyamalan’s movie. Bad joke, forgive him.
The bus arrived about 20 mins late, 35 minutes after we parted. He hopped on and took the only available seat in the last row. Paid INR 3.50 to the nice conductor for a 6 Kilometer ride uphill. Evidently these guys are still ignorant of the terms ‘recession’ the ‘inflation’. The same ride on good, less risky roads in Bangalore would cost him at least INR 8.00 on a similar bus.
After taking the seat he took a couple of pics as memories and soaked in the lives of the simple, unassuming friendly looking local people on the bus. Also showed off his snaps, though indirectly (he was browsing them while being aware that his neighbors were peeping at his cam’s LCD screen). In broken Tamil, asked his neighbor to tell him when the bus reaches Thallakundy.
As the bus passed by little towns, a nice little church and a volley ball match, through the clouds, Abhi had time to snooze for a few minutes. Lucky fool.
We had just reached Thallakundy and it was COLD. Like someone just put us in a freezer. Saravanan was sweating and shivering at the same time. Then we reached the doc only to find out that he was a wildlife specialist. Treated only bison like trucks, buses, vans, cars etc. and was sorry he could not help me.
Time, was not running out. It wasn’t a matter of life and death. Saravanan was trying to work out the possibilities with the doctor when I heard a familiar click behind me. Yahoo! it was Canon and her friend Abhi. He had finally found us and took a discreet picture of me at the garage.
Saravanan and Abhi, along with the mechs decided that we should put me in an ambulance and transport me to Ooty for a rubber transplant. All the flat footed travel uphill had torn off the tire’s walls.
Again, Saravanan left me with Abhi and went down the road to find the ambulance. A few minutes later, it arrived, a white Mahindra Pickup.
6 sort of able bodied men lifted me up into the pick up truck. Saravanan and Abhi Joined me later to ensure I stood still as the truck made its way up, down and around the curvy hill road to Ooty. Due to this Sarva didn’t allow Abhi to take his cam out. Poor guy, this was the only time I felt bad for him.
It was a never before sight seeing experience. Traveling in the cargo area of the open truck we had great views without worrying about driving or navigating. One of the best city tours so far. It wasn’t in a Mercedes Benz or a Range Rover. nevertheless we felt privileged and enjoyed every bit of it.
At Ooty the driver and his assistant helped us find a tire shop and then a mechanic before they took leave. The Mechie put a spanner through my joints, removed the wheel and took the deflated tire apart. Within minutes the wheel was ready with the new tire. My diwali gift from Saravanan. It felt good and I was slightly better equipped to do my job.
Then we went for lunch and the boys cracked a joke. What would we tell when we discussed the weekend at work. We’d say we went to replace the tire of the bike and later we had lunch together, and for that we went to Ooty : )
Abhi wanted to see the 100 year old Heritage Nilgiri Mountain Railway, though he sulked at not having enough time to take a ride in it. He just bought a ticket for keepsake. As it was almost time for departure, Sarva went to buy the ticket, and Abhi went on to the tracks to take some pictures of the train. Just before the train left Sarva came and a few pictures later, we, all of us and the train were ready to leave.
Abhi went down the nearby bridge to take another picture of the train while Saravanan came back to me at the parking lot and we went to pick Abhi up.
Abhi wanted to pick up some chocolates for his mom, now that he had to tell her about the Ooty trip, he decided to add some flavor to it. Sarva wanted to ride a horse so after the chocolates we went to the boating area where we expected to find some horses. There were a few, but none of them like how Sarva wanted them to be. He said there are better ones at Conoor, a beautiful little town 16 KMs down south of Ooty. Sadly we didn’t have enough time to go there.
15:00 Hrs
As we started back towards Bangalore Ooty started getting cooler. By the time we rode a few miles, Sarva’s hands were numb.
We rode out of Ooty into Thallakundy where we waved grateful good-byes to the first mechanics and started our descent of the mighty Nilgiris.
Going uphill is tough but going downhill, is the toughest. No throttle, only restricting the speed of descent by traveling in lower gears and generous use of brakes and there are the deadly, sharp hair pin bends. 36 of them.
So much that when we stopped at another view point, Abhi jumped off the bike, over the wall, to take some pictures of the landscape through the valley, partly bathed in sunlight with scattered white clouds and a little overcast. Saravanan called him for the water bottle, not for a sip but to pour on the rear brakes which were smoking and in the danger of catching fire. Earlier in Ooty, there was some smoke from the gear box as well. But I am built tough. So the other two were confident.
Our idea was to reach Mysore before dark. Coz the road from there to Bangalore is better suited for night journeys on a bike unlike the ones till Mysore. But the rain gods had other plans for us.
We stopped over a bridge across a fairly wide stream to see an elephant drinking water a few meters away. Abhi took his cam out for a few pics but just as he was about to take any, it started pouring. He hurriedly bent over the cam to protect it from the rain drops but it had already taken a few hits. He put a cap over the cam and took pics of the tusker and wiped the cam before putting it back in its bag. When they turned back towards me, they found the front brakes smoking.
Abhi, now used to my predictable ways, continued tending to his cam while Saravanan explained the science behind the smoke to some Malayali passers by. There were a lot of primates in the thick bamboo lining the sides of the stream near the bridge. They were happily accepting food from the travelers who stopped and playing in the rain while we waited, for the rains to stop, under a thick bamboo bush or whatever that kept us dry.
We set off again, this time Abhi’s cam was sealed in its Lowepro Holster which meant that there would be fewer stops on the way. We were wrong here as you will figure out later.
It was around 16:30 hrs when we left the bridge. We went towards Mudumalai, during which the rain caught up with us and gave us a good wash down. There was also a peacock sitting gracefully on a low dry branch with its beautiful plumage of colorful feathers flowing down. Just a few feet away from us. But because it was raining we couldn’t take pictures. Abhi, for that moment, wanted to be in a car with a telephoto lens so that he could take pics without worrying about the rain or the distance.
At Mudumalai, Abhi took the driver’s seat again and we decided to ram the road humps with an iron fist, i.e. not slow down while going over them. But some of them were like Usain Bolt’s spine and sent shivers down ours as we hit them.
It was about 19:00 hrs when we just went past Nanjangud. Soaked and cold we stopped by the rail bus again as the boys went behind the tree for something and came back deciding it was time for a driver change.
From here miles were longer and time flew faster. Bad roads and incessant rains meant that our average speed was really low.
We stopped a couple of times at bus stops and odd shelters before we entered Mysore. We missed a turn which meant we had to now take the slower road through the city centre.
We went past the wet streets, out of the city and past the historic town of Srirangapatna before deciding to stop for dinner at a road side restaurant.
Sadly they didn’t serve my spirit there, so I waited outside. After dinner we found the pub where I got my fuel. We reached Mandya, the Sugar capital of Karnataka and where road humps were like tummies of healthy Indian politicians, big, round and smooth.
We stopped a couple of times at Mandya to take shelter (not for me though) from the rain. Sarva even suggested we all take a train back to Bangalore from the nearby railway station. Or that Abhi could take a bus while we rode back. But Abhi said that the trip should be completed like the way it was meant to be. Then the rain took a breather and we took off.
We then decided that we were catching up with the rain every time, so it would be better if we risk it a bit and overtake the rain.
Sarva who was riding did well with the overtaking as we passed through two big showers and got out on the other side.
Now with the rains behind us, we followed speeding cars who did a good job of guiding us through the highways as their behavior informed us well in advance of any hurdles like traffic, gaps in the medians and more importantly, pot holes and speed breakers.
Abhi, whose chopstick back side was now crying in agony and whose shoulders felt like somebody had put some hot coals on them, once asked Sarva if he could let him ride. Sarva who was now enjoying the free spirited riding said he would but after some more time. Abhi never asked and Sarva never offered. Through all this Abhi was singing in pain. It was more like braying but I could understand his plight so I powered on trying to get to his house as fast as possible.
22:45 hrs
Billu and Bunty, Abhi’s two Labradors woke his mom up as she was dozing off in front of the TV. We silently pushed the bike into the parking and Abhi was still singing in miffed tones. They patted me good night and went in to relieve themselves of the luggage and wet clothes and recollect the events of the day before dying. They lay dead till 8:00 am the next day.
Moral:
You can actually go for lunch to Ooty.
All Bullet Owners should also own a 24 sized spanner.
There is always a first time for anything.
Some fat that Abhi lacked is best not reduced.
