YAY.....

It was indeed the baap of all passes & gave us the biggest challenge for rating ourselves of what level of bikers we are.

Still, Khardang La's -15+*C ka cold was way too killer than any challenge or any obstacle i had ever crossed in my life...

Hungry for more!!!!!

you manage to amaze me everytime....it keeps getting better and better...

btw have you read "zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance"??....I have a hunch that you would like it too......

@dushyant: more coming!

@kingkong: thank you! as for zen, yeah I think I read it way way back in first year college but it was too heavy for me back then. ill finish my log in the months to come and then re-read that book - mebbe this time round i'll relate to it better

how cold was it?? how did it feel??

-15 degree C at K-Top (we checked with the army guys there), but it obviously rose as we descended though I have no clue by how much.

Oye, I am still waiting for this travelogue

@ AM - Brother, Is this travelogue over or am I missing something ?

IN PROGRESS...

its just half what you see.

Alankar! I had missed a lot in the last 2 months. Nice to be back!
You are fantastic as ever! Keep them rolling.

Hey Kindzadza, sorry for the late reply, haven't been in town. And yeah, like Spidey said, this is just half the story. More will come in the weeks to follow!

Thanks (as always) Makky! Good to see you are tuned in!

@Alankar

Awesome writings buddy. Am so inspired, am already dreaming of my ride upto Ladakh!!

btw, I was in Ladakh for a month at the same time as you guys were there - I believe I saw you guys between Upshi and Leh. The dates match and I had seen MH registered Karizma, a R15 and Pulsar.

I was in Ladakh for work, and the one day when I was free, I and my friend hired two bikes (FZ and Bullet) and rode from Leh to Lamayuru and back. Since I am a newbie rider, I was too afraid to do K-TOP. Reading your travelogue - It was such a good decision not to attempt Khardungla!!

Thanks xci. Yeah Khardungla was brutal when we went there - although its not that bad every year. We just happened to be at the right place at the wrong time ;-) Leh to Lamayuru is a beautiful stretch except for the rocky under construction NH1-D bits towards Lamayuru. But yeah I quite loved that stretch too

Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 29: Khardung la - our descent (part V)

His thin tee and rock solid stance mocks our very core. A member of the armed forces, unfettered by the frost, mildly amused by our intolerance to the freeze. He introduces himself. I forget his name instantly for I can barely remember my own.

"Where's the rest of you?", he asks.
"Rest?", I enquire.
"We were informed four bikers had left Khardung la a few hours ago."
"The two have gone ahead."
"Hmmm. The check post would have seen them pass. Don't get too close to the stove unless you want to lose your limbs."
"Yes, we've been warned. Aren't you cold?"
"It's not so cold.", he winks.
"You cocky bastard.", is all I can think but dare not say.

We talk of many things. Of the weather, of frost bites, of avalanches, of how its all so much worse this year than ever before, of the fact that our mortal fears weren't unfounded. We were spared for reasons I can only conjecture for the Universe speaks to me no more.

I ask him of the temperature. He points to the ground - I see the snow melts on impact. We aren't in the sub zeros any more, he explains. He lacks the scientific apparatus to put a number on it. He advises we ride further and ride soon, for as day gives in to dusk, the snow will come in stronger. He assures us that it will get warmer as we descend - a fact that we are aware off but thankful nevertheless to hear reiterated. The task will not be as arduous; the remainder of the journey not so precarious.

From the corner of my eye, I see Spiderweb, still in a trance, beginning to roll his socks back on. He's been listening. Time to roll, his actions beg. My socks are soaking wet. I'd rather not wear them. But the thick interior of my footwear promises to peel off my wrinkled skin. Grudgingly I put my socks back on, slide my feet into my boots, wave my goodbyes, say my thank you's, limp across the snow, slide my key in and hit the button start. The R-15 rumbles to life. The Karizma will take a few tries, but as it purrs back to sanity, it sounds unfazed and resolute. We spend a good 10 minutes shoveling snow off our seats as our steeds breathe in the frigid air.








We resume riding. Our throttle, tired; our minds, empty; our resolve, shaken, stirred, but alive. It won't be long before snow melts into rain, mud turns to tar and our steeds breathe a sigh of relief. I sense a weight lift off my shoulders; part metaphorical, part real, for the drizzle gently washes off the ice from our attire in an act of divine cleansing. Puffs of frozen vapour fall off my helmet and onto my back gently patting it as they move along. The elements applaud our return, it would seem.

Panic left me at the doors of South Pullu. I'm pixellating the pathway once more. I will need these images for the story I tell - as proof to a future dying self - that indeed I was here, indeed I experienced the experience, indeed this is true and not just a figment of a hallucinating dying mind.

I ride up to Spiderweb, ask him to stop. He looks concerned. "What happened?", he asks. I say "I want you to pose at the bend, I want to take a picture.". He looks stupefied. "What kind of ****tard are you?", I can hear his mind say. He waves his hand gesturing a complete lack of interest in my shutterbug desires and rides on. I'm adamant and reach for the phone to grab a shot, but my cold hands are too slow. By the time I get a shot, he's long gone. Of course I will find him waiting patiently on the other side of the bend, for he will not leave me behind.













25kms is all we have to cover but we ride long. The terrain will not permit haste. Time does not concern us for we do not concern it. We ride, I pixellate while Spiderweb waits and so the journey continues.

We enter Leh city. The Karizma sputters and dies. It's been pushed to its limits. It overheats. I ask Spiderweb to give it a break. But he won't yield. He will keep hitting the button start until his steed reluctantly roars back into motion. He's lost the ride in him. All he needs the terra firma underneath him and a complete absence of gear and throttle. It won't be long now. We make our way to Inder's hotel where Motorbreath and he await our return. Inder has arranged for buckets of hot water to help us nurse our feet back to sanity.

I risk thinking, but all I see are flashes of nothingness. I've lost all the mind I ever had. I've been granted a purpose in return. A purposeless purpose. A checklist of things I must experience. A blank checklist at that, for I am to fill in anything I might set my mind on. I put one on it right away:

Stared death in the face - check.

Many more will I put on this list in the days to come. Most, I have yet to achieve. I notice, its just a list. There's no summary box, no relevance box, no space for grades and comparisons and judgements.

"Experience all that you will. For there is no other virtuous virtue than to experience my being. Everything else is unnecessary detail."

That night, as I sip ginger lemon tea, Spiderweb and I make frantic calls to all our loved ones. We relate our experiences - we receive concerned queries, we respond with "We're OK". And even though those that I love have all the facts of our experience in question, little do they know that I will come back to them a different being. I am what I never was. I was what I never will be.

A lone SMS from a close friend finds its way to my phone. "Celebrate tonight. You deserve it.".
Indeed I do.

"Goodbye my past. It was a pleasure to forget you. - Regards, Alankar Misra, June 8th, 2010."

Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 30: Living Leh

June 09, 2010

I awaken to biking impotence, for I cannot ride today. Motorbreath seems eager to prove himself following yesterday's miscarriage and asks of our plans for the day. Spiderweb, it would seem, is as unable as I. We resolve to spend the day in Leh. It would appear that Inder has called it a day, and a journey as well for he has resolved to return to Mumbai from Leh. He will ride no further.

Motorbreath, Spiderweb and I revisit Dolphin - our breakfast haven. Perhaps we fancy our hostess more than our cuisine, although, to be fair, the latter is up to par. Motorbreath leaves to find an ATM, Spiderweb to relieve himself and I'm given the opportunity to be alone with her for there is no other customer.

For the next fifteen minutes, I sit there, watching her as she resets the tables, recounts the cash, brings me my tea, smiles demurely as she realizes that my eyes glaze over at the very sight of her. My mind recites "Kiss her". Her proximity to me only throttles up the recital. I'm surprised at myself for I take my instinct seriously. My hands tremble as I contemplate the consequences. She brings me my cookies and a shy smile. The wind carries with it her sweet smell.

"Perhaps I should just talk to her. Perhaps I should ask her out for coffee... coffee? Seriously? And where would you take her? To her own restaurant? Ask her her name... start with her name... damn you! Say SOMETHING! Experience this, even if its rejection..."

As I'm about to utter, an elderly gentlemen, perhaps her father, walks into the eatery and my reverie ends in a highside. Note for the future: Next time, throttle up. Coasting is not an option.

All she does is laugh shyly at my wreck. She's not condescending. Merely amused.

"It's been a while since I traversed these roads. I'll get better with practice, I promise.", my eyes say to her. In time, Spiderweb and Motorbreath will return too and the latter, perhaps caught up in the same reverie, will only manage to ask her if she's from around Leh. She will respond, a response I do not remember for I was too focused on her eyes. Motorbreath will never ask her her name, for he will run out of steam too - a fact that tickles me no end. Two highsides in one race. Spiderweb looks amused as he watches us struggle from the sidelines.

We walk lazily across Leh, spot BMWs and Bullets and bleached babes. Nirvana, if there ever was one, was to be found here. But as time rolls on, the biker in us begins to itch. We need to ride - perhaps a little, certainly not a lot. And so we holler out to Inder, drag him out of his room and remount our steeds. We will head to Leh palace.

Leh Palace overlooks the Ladakhi Himalayan town of Leh, modelled on the Potala Palace in Lhasa, Tibet. The palace was built by King Sengge Namgyal in the 17th century, but was later abandoned when Dogra forces took control of Ladakh in the mid-19th century. The royal family moved to Stok Palace. Leh Palace is nine storeys high; the upper floors accommodated the royal family, the stables and store rooms were in the lower floors. The palace, a ruin, is currently being restored by the Archaeological Survey of India. The palace is open to the public and the roof provides panoramic views of Leh and the surrounding areas. The mountain of Stok Kangri in the Zangskar mountain range is visible across the Indus valley to the south, with the Ladakh mountain range rising behind the palace to the north. ~ Wikipedia












Our chance meeting will escalate into drinks and a plan for the morning hence. Looking back, I'm glad we rode together. Looking back, I'm glad I remember to look back, for in those memories lies the essence of who we have become. It is only fair to pay tribute to those moments, only fair that we do so honestly.

More chapters will follow, more words will flow - an ode to all that was and all that made us what we be...