Delhi, otra vez

One flock returns while another takes off. bikers back in bangalore, all except Bansi Baba, who receives the hikers in Delhi with rum, beer and scotch.
By trains, planes and motorbike, the secret 7 meet in Delhi. Me, debski, himja, small, prats and bansi hang out at prats' place.

Qn. why are all our parents so sweet, hospitable etc?

Train journey uneventful and liberating- lost the cell phone.


Drinks at prats' place and some violin by debski. now its past midnight and time for dinner.




Tomorrow we start our 2 days of journeying by train and bus to Gangotri, from where we shall begin our walk up to the source of the river Ganga.

Walk in the park

Actually Vishiminy has joined the blog and is on his way up to the Himalayas at the moment, approaching from Uttaranchal and launching off on a two week trek in the mountains. I expect he'll be posting whenever he finds electricity. Looking forward to more transitory stories...

All's well that sends well

Well it all worked out eventually. The motorbike went on a not so paranoid truck service and I went on a train back to Bangalore - thank you Mr Ambu sah! Rewinding a few days, before we came back to Delhi we spent a couple of days in Amritsar. Included in our agenda was of course a visit to the Golden Temple, the holy epicentre of the Sikh religion - VERY beautiful - and also Bansi's spiritual centre, as he discovered when he visited last year. Gurbanis are sung at all gurudwars (Sikh temples) but at the Golden Temple, they sing 24/7. Forever. Superb concept no? Bansi disappeared into the music for a few hours and came out looking a little dazed. We also saw Jalianwala Bagh, the site of an indiscriminate massacre of hundreds of unarmed Indians by a British officer, General Dyer in 1919 - a landmark event in the Indian fight for independence. The gathering was a non-violent one in a large space but with only one entrance/exit which Dyer blocked before he opened fire on the crowd. The scene is depicted in the movie Gandhi and we thought we remembered them showing tanks entering Jalianwala Bagh (mistaken?) but there's no mention of any tanks anywhere in the site - come to think it did they even have tanks back then? A short ride to the Wagah border brought us as close to Pakistan as any of us had ever been and we stuck around to watch the circus they call the changing of the guards. Music blasting, gladiators marching around on both sides of the gate, jostling crowds screaming for their countries in a bursting cauldron of patriotism. All foriegn tourists were seated comfortably in the VIP section - so much for independence! We ate some super street food including the famed Amritsari fish - dad they get them from the rivers up north - and then nipped upstairs for a drink or two. Early one morning we packed up and started our last ride back to Delhi where the events of the last post unfolded themselves. Back in Bangalore now and wondering why.

Dash of lime...

One hop, skip and jump takes us over Amrtisar and into Delhi where an interesting twist promises to keep me in transit for a little longer. Got things to write about Amritsar but I'll do that later... I was supposed to load my motorbike onto a train this afternoon and catch the Nizamuddin Express back to Bangalore early tomorrow morning. Excellent plan, so far so good. So I went to the railway station. After recent bomb blasts around the countryside there's some paranoia in the air. The guy asked me for my bike documents. No problem. I gave him a photocopy. He asked for originals. Don't have 'em, they're in Bangalore. Problem. He asked if I was Mahesh Sharma (who's name is on the registration document). I said mmm no, but the bike is currently being transferred into my name. Problem. Then he noticed even Mahesh Sharma was scratched out on the document and it was being transferred to some Dharam Chand. Who's Dharam Chand, he rightly wanted to know. Good point. Even I've forgotten at this point what's going on with my documents. I fumbled around and gave him some unbelievable explanation. He dismissed everything and concluded that at the moment the bike was neither in the name of Mahesh Sharma nor Dharam Chand nor Abhijeet Tame, so I might as well sell it for scrap metal. Oh come on, I protested, surely we can work something out sah...? To which he sweetly suggested, "Aap ek kaam kar leejiye. Gaadi me tel dalo aur seedha Bangalore le jayiye" - "I tell you what. Put some gas in the bike and ride straight to Bangalore - it ain't going on this train!". Thank you sir - that's about two thousand four hundred kilometres and just a few days before I report for my first day at work with my new job. At the moment, pouring over maps and considering his suggestion...

The smell of saffron...

So we started the ride from Leh to Srinagar due west along the northern frontiers on a petulant morning, clouds hanging heavy and leaking drops every now and then. As usual it didn't have the guts to rain properly. Reached the lovely monastry at Lamayuru for one chai and got covered in dust by the time we reached our night halt at Kargil. Karigl is one stupid town real close to the line of control between India and Pakistan. Full on army presence starts here. Next morning we woke up with namaaz and saw these kinds of signs before we climed over Zojila pass to cross over into the Kashmir valley and in a flash the arid landscapes of Ladakh gave way to the meadows and coniferous trees of Kashmir. Bansi sang Shammi Kapoor songs all the way to Srinagar. Of course these kind of guys were all over the place so we just had to learn to erase them with one mental photoshop. In Srinagar we showed up at Mesha's place - Mesha our Kashmiri friend in Bangalore - her folks took such good care of us! We've had the most brilliant hosts on this trip starting with Ambu and Shalini in Delhi to Ajay's uncle and aunt in Chandigarh, then Dolma and Norboo in Ulley village and now Mesha parents in Srinagar. Full Kashmiri wazwan, we ate like pigs at every meal, put in a day trip to Gulmarg and one lovely morning shikara (boat ride) to the vegetable market on Dal lake. Srinagar is like a fortress though, soldiers with automatic weapons everywhere. In seperate incidents I got told I look like an Afghan terrorist and Bansi got told to chop off his sideburns while Ajay insisted his long hair was because he was brahmin. Eventually we left Srinagar yesterday and started heading south for the first time in this trip. Sigh... It also got hotter so we drank lots of beer. We eventually lost the soldiers and today we entered Punjab alon with the usual road side flora, fauna and signs. Tomorrow we'll check out Amritsar. I've heard great things about Amritsari fish but where does the fish come from?

I am the milkman

First we relaxed in Leh for a couple of days by order of one Mr Bansi who has incidentally retired his tie for a few days (he did make his meeting on time). When we'd eaten enough momos, we set out eastwards towards 'Pangong Tso' a salt water lake at about 15000 feet which forms a border between India and Tibet. It's really blue. Superb! And on our return journey, we had tea with some army boys from Belgaum, really sweet guys. So far all army encounters have been real nice although that might change in Srinagar... Then a few days ago we rode about 40kms west and 30 kms north to park our bikes at a little campsite in the mountains. A couple of hours hiking up the river brought us to a lovely little village called Ulley. What a supreme joint! We stayed a couple of days at the house of Norboo and Dolma, what a sweet couple they are! The village consists of about seven houses, they grow barley in bulk, have their own vegetable gardens, own sheep, yaks and cows, and are almost totally self sufficient. Almost all houses have small solar panels providing enough energy for powering a few light bulbs. When we got there, they'd just finished harvesting their barley and laid it down in big piles. So we helped with digging up the space where they would eventually thrash it and made the "chok"s which involves gathering the harvest into big bunches to dry. Sang Ladakhi songs and all and kicked myself 10 times for leaving the MD recorder in Leh. For each meal, vegetables were plucked fresh from the patch and Dolma would make some superest Ladakhi dishes. First night, Norboo started blasting Ladakhi music and brought out the "chang" one wine or beer kind of thing they make from barley and we ended up drinking 3 jugs and became like this. The weather threatened little bit and then backed off. There's something very special about places where tar roads haven't reached. The people are different. Existence is direct. You grow the food that comes to your table. You eat it to grow some more. Simple. And their natural tendency is to trust not to suspect. It was the wonderfullest time. And this morning before leaving I milked a yak. Back in Leh now and off towards Srinagar tomorrow. Incidentally the folks over at the Whisky Tango Foxtrot blog have a full set of the syko Ladakhi road signs we saw and more. And for those who'd like to see a map, check this and see if you can make any sense of it...

Sleepless in Sarchu

The idea was conceived in Manali probably over ginger tea. How 'bout a business executive ripping across Ladakh trying to make his meeting in time? We volunteered Bansi for the job and he refused of course - until we presented him with a shiny new red tie! The next three days saw executive Bansi waking up early, adjusting his tie, staring his RX100 and sending it from Manali to Leh! Day one was sweet, climbed over Rohtang pass, which at 14000 feet is still a baby compared to the ones to come. The sun shone bright and wild flowers and horses roamed freely. We reached Keylang chased by a thunderstorm which never materialised. Day two was also a breeze, we made it over the dreaded Baralacha pass without any issues other than a few sore bums. Cruised downwards and made it to Sarchu which is nothing more than a bunch of tents and an army base. By sunset it got real cold and we were in a tent sending soup and coversations with some army boy from Karnataka (our license plates attract much attention in these parts). One peg was good for me but Bansi really started bonding with the boys and while I covered myself with razais and tried to sleep he continued sending in the outdoors. Then headache came. Then nausea came. Classic symptoms, I remembered reading, of altitude sickness. By morning I was sleepless and fully headached. Brushed ice off the seat of my bike and realised the battery was dead. Aaaaa! A couple of wires and a jumpstart did it, a disprin and a paratha later we were off. The headache persisted though and just before lunch I had a beautiful crash as I was oversped over unfriendly terrain. No damage done except my headache became a little worse. After luch we climed up up up and suddenly with one spectacular view we hit the magnificent morai plains at about 15000 feet and I got the photo I'd been waiting for, for three days! Further up took us over Tanglang pass at 17000 feet and simultaneously my head began to split while the sky started snowing on us. What??? That was a painful descent, I didn't see anything and I didn't think of anything except losing altitude, the only real cure for altitude sickness. A little lower down at Rumtse, Dr Bansi provided some tablets, Maitreyi a head massage and I was soon feeling a whole lot better. Reached Leh in one piece. Really tired. And really happy!

Ginger lemon

Chandigarh is bit scary da. I strain my brain looking for a break in the parallel lines. Navigation within the city is so easy that I soon begin to lose interest. Malls. Restaurants. Residential quarters. Order. Planning. Design. Dhaad. The only break from all this was bribing a cop 50 bucks cos I wasn't wearing a helmet, phew, at least some things don't change... The tank gets fixed thanks to Mr Rana in sector 48, yet another sweet bullet mechanic on the India map - we argue about the bill, he's charging me pittance and I want to give more. By 6pm on Saturday, the bike is ready and by sunset we're out. A three hour night ride brings us to Anandpur Sahib, the second holiest Sikh city at the bottom of the Himalayan foothills. Super place. We wake up at 5 the next morning and go to the gurudwar - beautiful. Manage to surreptitously record music on my surreptitous MD player. Then we start riding. It's Sunday and inspite of early warnings the weather is beautiful and sunshine all the way to Manali. Lovely ride, great weather and ginger honey tea at the end of the day. A day's rest today and tomorrow dark and early we start the three day ride through Ladakh to reach Leh. Or so we hope. Apparently the weather is crap.

Warmest hug caringest kiss...

... and we're off from Delhi! City of djins and it's got me kind of twisted, wrapped in my own threads I suppose... Bansi admits that there's something different about this trip into the mountains - his third and my second - why're we not "feeling it" yet? I finally get injected with one shot of excitingness while packing our motorbike toolkits the night before we leave, last night, and this morning we wake up early and take off from Delhi before 7. The ride is good, we don't end up lost and confused as usual and make a quit exit from Delhi, the more distance I put behind me the better I feel. Pretty soon we're cruising along, the sun's up and everyone's happy. ParanTHas for breakfast and a couple of hours later I unexpectedly run out gas. Hmm... Well it turns out that my petrol tank has a leak in it! Not the tubes, it's the bottom of the tank - rust and things... We spend a pointless couple of hours somewhere before Ambala trying to plug it with m-seal and drinking lassi. It works for a while and then goes back to leaking its head off. Better not take this situation into the mountains. Ajay's got an uncle in Chandigarh so we stop there and decide to spend the night while I try and get the tank fixed. Chandigarh is nuts, it has two angles - zero degrees and ninety degrees. And it doesn't look like Paris, it looks like Dallas. We meet mechanic tomorrow morning for a welding job. Let's hope it works.