LOL--about "ladki" we heard quite a few stories from maratha regiment

btw :nice jacket motor

The last para was most hilarious

Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 19: More than words...

June 4, 2010





Curious by-standers as we halt briefly for briefs, thermals and rain gear




Aman awaits our arrival





Chaddi Buddies





Indian Inquisition





Wanted money for photo. Settled for a half full Pepsi bottle



















Major Amandeep Singh and the Maratha Batallion









Reflections on me





Aman: "Ladki milegi?" (Will we get women?).
[NOTE: HE WAS KIDDING!!!]
Host: "Ji ladki aise kaise milegi?" (Sir, how will we get women?)
Aman: "Kyon nahin milegi? Tum log apne liye kya karte ho?" (Why can't we get them? What do you guys do for your own needs?).
Host's response: "..." (Picture above)
Our reaction: Priceless


IMPORTANT COPYRIGHT INFORMATION: Sonmarg images are courtesy Amandeep Singh. Since the images were watermarked in bulk using an automated script, some images incorrectly carry my name.

Show off!!! :-P

In srinagar we had managed a shikara ride also visited a temple and my bike also had got a puncture after the shikara ride, we saw shalimar garden from inside and also had taken a full round of the dal lake on bike
we did some shopping too on floating shops
We also encountered the strike before PM Manmohan sigh' visit, curfew was there in that curfew we were looking for puncture guy.
We also met a local who treated us well in his house with tea, omlets, biscuits and was in touch with us the remaining journey

The Leh Diaries > Section 3: The Journey > Chapter 18: A Dal Day

June 4, 2010

Several minutes, fifteen at the last count, have been spent looking for the wash basin. One would imagine that hotel We-Suck, in return for neither providing reasonable parking space nor a view of Dal, would at least have the decency to install a wash basin so one may float paper boats and dream dreams of potty on the rocks. Unfortunately, the sadistic bastards deprive us of this fundamental right. All I have is a tap and bucket combination to perform unmentionable rites that I'd rather not transcribe into digital stinkaments.

A re-charged phone, a rejuvinated mind and a few facebook updates cheer me up some.


Facebook update: Hit Srinagar last night. Heavy cold, cross winds, fallen trees n wet roads.
04 June at 11:12 via Text message

Sagar Raikar and Tushar Jadhav like this.

Rachit K Congrats..!! Good u made it.. btw, what time did u reach Srinagar & how was the state out there.. was there any curfew
04 June at 11:29

Tushar Jadhav in rachit's ishtyle- from 40 to 0 degree
04 June at 11:29

Rachit K hehe.. yeah man..!! & beyond too..!! let them reach baralacha la.. am sure
they will spot the extreme chillness out there.. anywhere in the range of -5
to -10
04 June at 11:31 via Email reply

Winsey Varghese ‎.
04 June at 12:03

Rachit K ‎^^ ..
04 June at 12:06 via Email reply

Tushar Jadhav ‎...
04 June at 12:21

Rachit K ‎....???
04 June at 12:24

Tushar Jadhav ‎........?????!!!!!
04 June at 12:34

Winsey Varghese ‎<.^&*..>..! ???
04 June at 12:35

Tushar Jadhav ‎( . ) ( . ) , .... ----) ,,,,,,,++++++====o
04 June at 12:38

Anirudh Khusape ‎:P LOL
04 June at 16:38



Facebook update: Fallen tree across Srinagar road. Lifted our bikes over it to get across!
04 June at 11:13 via Text message

Winsey Varghese likes this.

Tushar Jadhav oh ho, good adventure.......hope u had pics of these.ride safe
04 June at 11:26

Rachit K ohh..!! all the very best guyz..!! Ride safe.. so u r heading for zojila today.? & where u planning to halt... Drass??
04 June at 11:28

I torment on the subject of our steeds for the rain has had a lot to say on many subjects the night prior. My fears are not unfounded as we find our beloved beasts drenched to the core. Moisture has taken shelter in my odometer. All I see now is blurred incoherent crystal formations. Drags, grunts, heaves, shoves, and some of our steeds manage to make it out. My efforts land me in a ditch, literally. My steed now struggles to gain a foothold in slithering pastes of brown. Motorbreath drags us out and we finally make it to the tarmac. Time spent, 20 minutes. Distance covered, 10 meters. Much to our gratitude, the rain, exhausted by its tantrum the night before, remains silent today. But a cloudy sky reminds us to keep our spirits in check for Mademoiselle Rain will show up anytime she so pleases and there's not a damn thing we petty mortals can do about it.

The Karizma has a limp in her stride. A brief inspection and we recognize a puncture; our second if you've been kind enough to keep count. We must heal her before we let her run any farther. As we consider options, we lose Aman as he, unaware of quandary, continues exploring the Srinagar scape. Not even phone calls deter him. We assume he must have headed towards Dal and do the same, hoping that we will find a mechanic to fix the problem on the way. We don't, but we do find Aman, except that he is nowhere close to Dal. He remains in the vicinity of our stay, furious at the other end of a phone call, wondering why we left him to get to Dal. We give him directions to where we are. He finds us as we capture our environment; an environment that seduces in two dimensions, overpowers our senses in the third. I'll admit, I'm in love with Dal for she brings me peace I have never known. In the days to come, I will cheat on her as Leh takes me into her fold. I feel no guilt for my polygamous nature; the two deserve to be loved by many.











We now turn our attention on to the Karizma. A brief word with locals and we are directed towards the heart of the city for aid. I've noticed that opportunities to explore will usually present themselves under the garb of obstacles for it is they who temper our stride, force us to see when we only would look, force us to experience when we only would see. We experience resentment from the locals though; for we realize that we are being rejected help from those that possess the tools; redirected elsewhere where elsewhere itself will react the same. Mindless hops from one station to the next, we wonder what it might be of us to encourage such ill-treatment. Aman and I stop briefly for fuel as Spiderweb makes inquiries at location number im-too-tired-to-count. With not many Gandhi's to support us, we only manage a few liters. ATMs will have to be attacked to replenish the needs of our motored beasts. We look around and we've lost Spiderweb and Motorbreath again. I can only assume they've headed straight ahead, for it is understood that any divergence from the linear path on their behalf would attract a "make-sure-they-know-where-we-are-going" maneuver on their part.

And so Aman and I head upstream. Aman wears an edgy demeanor today for reasons I will grow to understand and spite. He argues that we should have headed towards Drass in our search for a mechanic instead of encircling the city. I try to reason that since conditions of our path to Drass were uncertain and the availability of a mechanic even more so, it is probably a safer alternative to remain within city limits until the steed is at appreciable performance. My reasoning does not appeal to his rationale and he stands his ground. As we ride further, he demands to know if I am certain that they have moved in that direction. I inform him that I am not, but given that they are unreachable on the phone due to network errors, moving upstream is probably the best option to consider. Another argument ensues. As we approach a barricade suggesting city limits, I'm beginning to reconsider my decision. Drizzles indicate that Mademoiselle Rain has a few more discourses she would like to impart. Running out of directional options, Aman and I decide to raid the ATM.

Fortune favours those who... well its extremely arbitrary if you ask me. Spiderweb has found a network and managed to call us. They had backtracked at the pump, but assumed, incorrectly, that we had our eye on them and knew where they were headed. Landmarks are rattled out for our convenience and Aman and I head in reverse. The Srinagar police are the first to witness the first of several heated arguments between Aman and I; for no sooner do we meet the duo, a snide remark from Aman trips my wires and I land up gunning for decibel death-match immortality. For the next several hours, silence will be the only safe verbal stance between Aman and I.

Spiderweb has managed to get a fix for his wheel and we are ready to rumble. But a directional query to one of the public transportation chauffeurs yields a warning that the path we propose to take is enveloped in hostile weather and that we might be wise to delay our approach. Aman tries to connect with the Puneris to get a semblance of the truth but fails; most cellular network providers have yet to penetrate the scapes we propose to explore. A brief discussion with military personnel and we are directed to the Tourism office for up-to-date information.







I do not know what information Spiderweb and Motorbreath glean about the weather from the Tourism Office for all they share is that the lady manning the query division is smoking hot, which apparently is good enough for me for I question no further. Discussions ensue and we decide to press on despite warnings. Hungry as a piranha on a vegetarian diet, all I can think of his food. Spiderweb knows just the place. I follow him blindly, thinking thoughts of chicken wings and kebab platters. In my hungered state, the Dal, my lonely love, appeals to me no more than a cheap thirst quencher.









I regain sanity as omlettes find their way into my system. The chickens will be spared today for lack of cooks without conscience. I decide to capture more of my liquid love within the confines of my lens for more flirtatious encounters in the future. Lacking a pod, I just hold the camera in one hand as I ride around Dal. The results are less than mediocre but a good experiment for I now recognize the urgency with which I need to possess a mountable camcorder.



Facebook update: Raining in Srinagar!! Enjoyed riding along Dal lake!!
04 June at 14:16 via Text message

Divya Misra and Tushar Jadhav like this.

Honey Misra i saw it only in shammi kapoor movies
04 June at 18:41

Tushar Jadhav imagine alankar in his place...lol
04 June at 18:43

Honey Misra ‎)
04 June at 19:11

Within moments of my return, the weather turns extremely hostile as dense clouds wrestle down visibility, the winds overpower linearity and Mademoiselle Rain breaks into a shrill and violent song. We reconsider our decision to press forward and consider spending the remainder of the day floating on a Shikara. Alcohol receives an honorary mention in the agenda. But as the Universe would have it, the Sun comes down upon its adversaries with ruthless aggression silencing both rain and wind and linearity returns to flexible shapes and clouds scurry for cosmic shelter. And as much as I would have loved to love Srinagar and Dal just a little bit more and a little bit longer, we agree to be on our way; but not without more captures along the way.














Somewhere along the road, we, Spiderweb and I get lost in transmission. We spend endless hours capturing the 360.







Motorbreath and Aman await us; the former wraps up a borrowed bidi while the latter answers queries from a curiously curious security officer. Motorbreath and Spiderweb have yet to consume their quota of fuel and that is precisely what they do a few furlongs away while Aman makes a few more inquiries. I do what I do best, capture moments, savouring and saving them so I may tell stories to a future, forgotten me.






Facebook update: Now heading towards Drass. Drizzling. Beautiful ride! I think I'm gonna cry!!
04 June at 16:03 via Text message


Sagar Raikar, Kunal Ghogale, Priyank Mamtora, Adway Kudalkar, Shannon Dias, Winsey Varghese and Tushar Jadhav like this.

Divya Misra Wow. wow.
04 June at 19:04

Tushar Jadhav its just started. save ur tears when u will conquer highest motorable road in world- KHARDUNG LA
04 June at 19:12

Priyank Mamtora gr888..
04 June at 19:50

Sanjay Shukla Good going man! Have fun on the run! good luck running into some Kashmir ki kali.
06 June at 00:05

Sujan Shetty keep goin
06 June at 09:58

The road ahead will see a sea-change in group dynamics as Motorbreath bundles up with Aman and the two ride longer and harder. Spiderweb and I have drifted into touring mode. I stop to capture as much as I can within the realms of my lens. Spiderweb supports me in this endeavour as he keeps me in his rear view at all times. At every stop - and there are frighteningly many - I find him waiting patiently as I condense the surroundings into pixels. We manage to catch up with the leading duo for the first few times for the two of us can reach high speeds frequently and furiously. But as the seconds elapse, we tire of the rush and prefer instead to enjoy the joys the drizzling damsel has to offer. Often times we find the duo awaiting our arrival only to be left behind again in our quest to pixelate all.

The thing about dynamics though is that it is dynamic. The road to Drass will conspire to collude the many permutations the four of us have to offer. We will all be left behind, we will all gain on the others, we will all ride as one in the multitude of pathways. But our journey for the 4th day of June will end in Sonmarg, many miles away from our planned destination. We dare not attempt Drass for the mighty Zozilla pass offers challenges far beyond our humble capability. We will tackle the beast in the light of day...

Thanks Makky!

ROFLMAO!!


@Alankar: Man, you are just brilliant! This very trip log is the best I have ever read till date and I hope that it remains unbeatable forever.

Section 3: The Journey &gt; Chapter 17: Kasht-mir

June 3, 2010






Facebook update: 100km away from Srinagar. Getting colder now. Eating chicken curry n rice at da dhaba.
03 June at 20:43 via Text message

Satyen Makhija, Sagar Raikar and Honey Misra like this.

Tushar Jadhav wow thts a really good combo. hows a weather out there? ride safe guyz.
03 June at 20:47

Sagar Raikar are yaar that's mouth watering......
04 June at 00:59"If its not below, it must be above". "Nonsense!", I think to myself, even as I casually steal a glance at the skies above. And there they are... the most numerous, the most beautiful, the grandest, the shiniest stars I ever did see. I understand the scientific brainlessness of my prior statement; imagine me flashing you with my creative license. Booya!

T'is time to run again. The weather is turning on us. Lightning angers thunder; thunder responds with rain. All we experience for now is a light drizzle. The horizon, though, promises nothing short of hostility as lighting bolts electrocute a violent ether. The wind warns us of impending duress impeding, our progress by laying down a tree across the path we take. The fallen tree will take more than man to displace. We respect nature's message; but we need to be within the four walls that await us in Srinagar. And so, with the aid of companions in time, we haul our bikes over dead logs. It takes 4 for each one of our steeds but we make it.

The roads to come will present the remainder of nature's fury. For the rain comes down savagely and cross winds rattle our steeds furiously. I can only feel the forces, but Aman's steed in the distance gives me a visual attestation of how truly ****ed we are; for he is being pushed directly into the paths of oncoming trailers by remorseless gusts. At this point, it truly is each man for himself for the conditions make it near impossible for one to consider another. Time slows down to a trickle as we struggle to maintain momentum. Breaking barks present untold horrors as we snake through a force more powerful than the collective we.

Fortunately, we make it. The winds give way to a mild breeze. Rains refrain. I estimate we are in Srinagar. I know nothing for sure. But a word with a stationed military unit confirms my estimation. We've made it to Srinagar.

We must now find our restort, where the Puneris promise us shelter. After a widespread search, we hit home. We look for parking space; much to our dismay, there is none. We must park in mud and grime. We are to be greeted by one Puneri, Inder. The rest I am told, are asleep. We agree to compare notes in the morning. We've come a long way today to make good our word to Aman. We must rest our senses now or risk being forced into the unconscious.

June 4, 2010

A risen sun brings disheartening news; the hotelier informs us that the Puneris have departed leaving us behind for we failed to awaken at the scheduled hour of 6am or the whereabouts. I faintly recall a knock on the door; I certainly recall thinking - we've left no stone unturned to make it thus far the night prior; surely they'll understand. I was wrong. I want to be angry; but all my mind can come up with, and justifiably so is, "**** them. We do this our way, on our clock."...

And we do...

Section 3: The Journey &gt; Chapter 15: Sleeping is the enemy

June 2, 2010

We've just finished attacking dinner, a motley of starters and lassi. Nobody seems to be in a hurry to leave. But we must. If ever we have to reach Srinagar as scheduled, or should I say, re-scheduled, we must hit Madhopur tonight, a distance of roughly 150 kms; child's play on any single day, frightening if you consider the fact that we were in Delhi less than 24 hours ago.



We slip into our gear, mount our steeds and rev the throttle. The revs reveal that my tail bag is teetering. I spend some time re-working the bungee chords. Meanwhile, my band of brothers seem to have pulled out. They are well on their way. It takes me 5 minutes to re-fasten the chords, 15 to catch up with them. Sleep is overpowering me; I can barely think. At one juncture, Aman and I take a left only to see Spiderweb signaling us to turn right round and head straight ahead instead. Obstructed by dividers, Aman and I look for a U-turn. I miss one, Aman takes it. I get the second. By the time I reach the junction, they are all out of sight. All I can remember of Spiderweb's directions is head straight. But did he mean head straight instead of taking left or head straight after taking the U-turn. My muddled thinking ponders over the quandary, unsuccessfully at first, and unsuccessfully from thereon. A traffic policeman, sensing my confusing, asks me to pull over but his superior remarks "Tourist hai, jaane do" (He's a tourist, let him go) and gestures asking me to move along. I accept, except, I do not get far for I don't know which way to head. I dial Motorbreath. No response. With battery in the whereabouts of 8%, I wonder if this is going to end in disaster. All I can do is wait for them to notice my absence. Five minutes out, the phone buzzes. It's Motorbreath. I explain where I lost track of them - he explains how to find them assuring me that they await my arrival. Few minutes of riding in a straight line and I see the familiar glow of the Pulsar's tail light.

Spiderweb toys with Google Maps to ensure we're on the right path. Turns out, we are not. A few queries to passerbys, scanty at this time, and we find our way on to the NH-15, a one-lane, two way traffic museum of vehicular display. With dark added to the mix in copious proportions, we are closer to the bat brotherhood than we hoped for. High-beam glares from oncoming traffic kill my desire to see. An occasional approaching monster truck with LEDs reminding one of the Disco era crack me up good. One in particular with LEDs arranged in a circular order on its hood with radiating lighting patterns looks like it has escaped from the sets of Transformers. WICKED is the only word to describe it as it comes chugging down the unlit NH-15.

Not long into the ride, Motorbreath begins to honk furiously. Trouble. We halt as he declares his front tyre to be of the flat assortment and while he was aware of the said issue minutes earlier, he decided to wait until he spotted a mechanic. Sure enough, across from us, a mechanic sits ideally as he contemplates relativity. We are in possession of a puncture kit, all we need the mechanic to do is spot the leak. We hand over the vehicle to his capable hands and rest some more in a dhaba in the vicinity. It doesn't take long, and we resume the journey. The short rest has done us evil, for it has allowed slumber to weave itself deeper into our constitution. I now follow a non-linear path to my steed. Hopefully I'll do better on the tarmac.

As the kilometers fly by, Spiderweb leads the pack. Somewhere down the line though, he begins trailing. The Karizma's headlamps are ebbing which is troubling in a scheme where the slightest error could find you on the hood of an LED inspired motoristic beast. As the NH-15 flows through a settlement, I notice pot-holes, decelerating instinctively. Up ahead, I see Spiderweb hit a pothole at full speed. A thunderous sound ensues as darkness embraces Spiderweb in its uncomfortable embrace. He vanishes from view as if devoured by the Universe.

Worried, I speed up to get to where he was. My headlamps hit his steed, parked along the sidelines. Spiderweb looks grim as the mighty Karizma revs in silence, darkness and despair.

"Fuse?", I ask.
"Yeah", he replies.

This wouldn't be the last time Spiderweb's steed would blow its fuse. Unknown to us, a mis-wiring by the genius in Delhi is creating electrical ripples the fuse cannot handle. He gets off his seat, unhooks it swaps the fuse with a spare and sure enough the head lamps come alive, a ritual that will be repeated several times over as we navigate the NH-One-Five.

We've lost Aman and Motorbreath to speed once more. A 15 minute wait takes a lot longer to compensate for. Spiderweb pushes the throttle to its extreme. Its easier to maintain high speeds with two as opposed to four. I can only assume that the two before have achieved similar results. Spiderweb and I tail fast cars relying on them to shed more light on our path. It works as we cover ground quickly.

As we approach another settlement, we find the duo, parked to the side, signaling us to stop. Motorbreath is irate as he informs us that a couple of local bikers with pillion antagonized our two by cutting them off time and again, preventing them from over-taking them and barricading them against the sidelines in a startling display of brain deficient bravado all at high speeds. Slowing down did not get rid of them. Given the riding conditions, coupled with our fatigue, the locals had willingly put themselves and our mates in jeopardy. The only logical thing to do then was to find a safe settlement and stop, which is exactly what the duo did.

Aman's situation is worse than the collective, for he has had a sum total of 30 minutes of sleep on a chair in the past 48 hours. It is now his turn to trail. I stick with him, often times trying to lead in tricky overtakes for I worry about his conscious state, which judging by mine, would be frighteningly close to the un-conscious. When his headlamps turn to two, I slow down only to realize that a lone rider, separate from us, is following our lead as a safety measure. We let him. We lose him when Spiderweb halts to devour roadside kulfi and we follow suit. If you haven't already guessed, Spiderweb has a kulfi fetish. He could be on the precipice of an invention that could change the course of human history one day, but the mere sight of kulfi would be reason enough for him to abandon such a course, or at least break for two large helpings.

Weariness has completely over-shadowed our senses, destroyed our spirit. We decide to call it a night, regardless of current geographical bearing. All we need is shelter. We will realize soon that finding a sanctuary will itself pose many problems as over-populated lodges deny us room. Many moments later, we stop outside a flamboyant lodge. I've lost the ride in me, for I cannot ride no more. It is my resolve to pass out in the sprawling garden, should they refuse us accommodation. Fortunately, they grant us space.

I'm dismayed to learn that hunger will fight tooth and nail with slumber to gain my attention. We must eat. Dismay turns to horror as we are told that food will not be delivered to the room - we will have to haul ourselves to the adjacent hotel. Lack of options often lead to brave strides. We make it to the restaurant in one piece.

15 minutes out, I open my eyes to smiling faces as I realize, quite embarrassingly, that I've fallen asleep with a spoon held up to my face. All I have to return is a weary smile myself. We decide to call it a night. As I drift off into deep sleep, Aman's voice echoes in my auditory canal as he updates his loved ones "We are in Madhopur"...

Thanks Winzee! Didn't know you were reading this thread!!

Awesome taglines alankar ..
Keep Writing

Thanks drifter!

Hmm nicely done

Thank you thank you