A Traveler's Memoir

I told Abhi about the conditions in Varanasi and Lucknow. I was in Nainital, a beautiful mountain painted with buildings and artificial lights that glittered more than the stars at night.  On my ride to Varanasi, I was accepted as a guest on Couchsurfing by a guy. I also had a minor accident when I banged into a bike that rode suddenly to the middle of the highway, I had no choice and my brakes weren’t just enough. Fell with a bang on my head, saved by my helmet and escaped with just a sprained thumb. I picked my bike up and some cops who stood nearby pounced on me for negligence except for one who had seen what had happened.  The Bike was okay and the two men on the other bike were mad at me. The cops asked me to leave as fast as I could and I did. Didn't stop for another 20 kilometres before I stopped to check on myself and the bike properly. Both were doing just fine. I pushed myself to the maximum that day and reached Varanasi at around 7:30 PM. This guy shared his locatio...

I pushed myself to a 360-kilometre ride with unpredictable traffic when a Couchsurfer accepted to host. But upon reaching, he said since he lived in a joint family, my shabby appearance would be unacceptable to his family. I said that's okay and decided to take a capsule in the house of gipsies or HOG hostel that he recommended. I met some good people there, a biker from Bangalore on a 390 duke, A few people on business, a realtor from Delhi. Conversations on life and politics went on for a long time. Rajesh the biker from Bangalore was with his friend Arjun and we did a ride together to Ramnagar palace the next day. Varanasi, It's not a holy city anymore, except for the feeling of nothingness when walking on the banks of The Ganga. It could be because of so many souls who rest there every day. The moment we leave the ghats, we enter into chaos, a place overcrowded with, all kinds of people in a rush. Even walking is not easy on those roads, one just cannot walk freely, even th...

I was back in my country and soon started feeling pity and sad with all the crowd and the fast-paced life in my motherland. I knew that I had one of my homes at Siliguri and I started riding in that direction. I called Sanam but was not reachable, Samarpan wasn't audible on the phone either. So I just got there and stopped beside Sanam's house.  His father walked towards the road while I was parked. I asked, Sir pehechaana? He says "kyon nahi par aapka sathi nahi hai."  "Huh, kya Sanam nahi hai?"  ( I asked if he recognised me and he says why not and said, but your friend isn't here) He had gone to attend a wedding in Nepal with his mother. When I decided to move on, Samarpan walked in. I asked him what's up with his phone and he said his mike was screwed. We decided to meet the rest of the gang, Dewash, Antony and his brothers. Dumped my luggage in Samarpans house, where I met his mom, a wonderful woman who was wheelchair-bound for a few years due t...

I rode along the border of Bhutan and reached the town called Phuentsholing which was the entry point to the country. The office that was supposed to issue my permit was closed, so I decided to spend a night there. India was just a 5-minute walk away but I decided to stay at the border town itself. Found a room at 500Rs. A room on the 5th floor, neat and clean with a TV and a fan. Dropped my luggage and went out to grab some food. A piece of chicken leg cost Rs. 100 and that wouldn't fill me. So I went around to find a smaller shop where a plate of momos was 40 and chowmein was 60. Ordered both, ate and grabbing a beer on the way, I went back to my room.  On reaching the immigration office, I found out that they didn't issue a permit without prior hotel booking and to ride in Bhutan I had to take an escort along paying him Rs. 2500 a day and take care of his needs as well. For once I thought of dropping the idea and going towards the North of India. But then I really wanted to...

Manas had made arrangements for my stay at his friend, Joy Joseph’s room. Joy was a Gujarati man in his forties, lived most of his life in the United States, continued to live there without a visa, even after their rules changed. He married someone whom he had dated for years, got separated and dated a new lady. When he got deported they froze all his funds and left him empty-handed at the age of 40. His struggle to make himself a life in India looked frustrating. A lovely human being, an old monk man, thoughtful and full of life and experiences. He was trying his best to take things easy. His mother lived in Gujarat and he was working with Manas's brother in Guwahati. I stayed there for more than 2 weeks and I didn't feel uncomfortable even once. He used to leave in the morning without breakfast and come back to first make a drink for himself. We just drank, smoked, and cooked. I got my much-needed rest before riding ahead. In fact, I had stayed there as I was waiting for my v...

From Agartala, I moved up to Meghalaya and reached Shillong, riding in the mist-covered roads with a light drizzle of rain. The LED light from Aizawl was doing its best. I first reached the Bara bazaar market, the right place to find good weed in Shillong and tried looking for it in the night but with the people's reactions, I felt it was better to drop the idea. The nearby lodge had a room at 500, which wasn't even cleaned after the previous guests checked out. Blankets and used plates were lying around just as they had left. I had no other choice because it was a crowded city and nothing was available on a smaller budget.  As I packed up and started to the living root bridge, I saw a man rolling in the market area of the street. Assuming it was weed, I stopped and asked him. He said it was tobacco, and I asked if I could find weed somewhere and he hooked me up with a porter. He asks me " how much?" I said 200. He took me around the corner and asked me to wait.  I ha...