Love rain #01

Everything looked ideal at the launch of my ride from Allahabad to Mumbai. I had the leathers to comfort me in the hostile winters of the three states I will be riding through; the haversack was hanging happily on the left side and most importantly, Kartoos (my motorcycle) sounded gruesomely hungry, impatient to swallow 1400 km. I was excited and thrilled about the lonely ride. I always liked riding alone, because it gave me the freedom of halting anywhere, light a cigarette and look around.

The first day of my ride was customary, as I started at 1 in the afternoon, and expected to reach Jabalpur by 8 P.M and take refuge in a hotel. Covering 400 hundred kms in 8 hours wasn't easy. The road conditions and other motorists such as drunk and sleepy truck drivers make the passage very thorny.

After exiting from the borders of Allahabad, I entered the dreaded area of Reva, which I refer to as the Red Town. The flying red soil from the earth creates blinding layers of dust. The roads are completely disintegrated with innumerable 'dinoholes'. Certainly, the most treacherous road I have ever ridden on, in my 15 years of riding experience; it took me 3 hours to traverse 25 kms, whilst my knuckles cried out of pain managing the clutch of a 500 cc engine and balancing the meteoric 200kgs machine. Curiously, this town's red looks chillingly synonyms with its bloody track record. That's right; it is judged as one of the most violent in Uttar Pradesh. Anyway, I reached Jabalpur around 9 P.M. and took shelter in a hotel on the Russell Street, albeit no one knew who Russell is.

The second day started early and I left the hotel at around 5 in the morning, with the intention to chug the 250 kms between Jabalpur and Nagpur swiftly. The roads connecting the two cities and the two states can also be utilized as a runway for private jets, as its temptingly wide with no sign of human existence for as long as 25 kms at a stretch. Open went my throttle and I had some serious fun on this stretch.

Covering 250 km in 3 hours should validate that expression. But, soon all this was to come to an end like a bubble burst.

As I entered Maharashtra, the rain came pouring down leaving me surprised. Keeping me occupied expecting that the rain would cease in no time as it doesn't rain in the month of November, for the first few minutes I tried to remain calm and oblivious towards the frightening thought of riding in rains.

After seeing no let up in its determination to deprive me of my riding rights, I pulled over and lit a cigarette this time not to introspect or to open any imaginative window of my mind but to console my nerves, suffering from anxiety currently. I decided to have a cup of tea and contemplate the strategies to deal with the beautiful adversary. By now I was completely wet and the frosty rains had done what it's capable of; I had started to freeze. Sitting in a cot at a dhaba on the precincts Nagpur I started calculating the cons and cons of riding further; I reached some depressing conclusions.

Rains make the roads wet and slippery, which hinders the speed of a motorised bicycle and things get worse as the human body is directly exposed to the lashes. This meant I will be suffering from brutal body pain in the next couple of hours. Wet glasses make the vision murky and I didn't have vipers on my cosy goggles and had to get rid of them, which meant aching eyes. Besides all this rains create a deceitful milieu for riders and drivers alike.

Consequently, I suffered the first nervous breakdown after I reckoned the blitz of these nuisances that will be unleashed on me if the rains did not impede.

Finding no solutions for these intimidating problems, I got back in the saddle and started riding again. In the meantime, my endeavour to find a wind-cheater was on; astonishingly I didn't find one with the right dimensions till I reached Nasik (600 kms from Nagpur).

As expected the speed was reduced drastically due to the wet roads and vision spoiling rains. I kept riding with wet clothes and boots for another eight hours with frequent halts at highway dhabas. Invading dhabas every 50 km and almost melting my body whilst standing close to the tandoors had become a convention. Because of these tandoors my bones remained serviceable for the 12 hours of spiteful rain-riding.

I witnessed approximately 8 to 10 accidents between Nagpur and Mumbai involving vehicles of all shapes and sizes. Most of the accidents were caused due to the unforeseen rains and overwhelmed road conditions.

From Allahabad to Mumbai at least 50% of the highway is getting overhauled according to the Golden Quadrilateral plan commenced during Atal Bihari Vajpayee's tenure as the PM. The highway of Akola is a part of this renovation plan as well; hence the hard work to make these roads better is in progress. And the government employees were too busy to notice that the construction materials such as sand, tar, blue metal et al were scattered all over the motorway, which can lead to a catastrophe. The combination of water, pollution and dust had just been perfected with the tar and blue metal blended in it with the topping of innumerable potholes. Now, it was more difficult to see and ride.

At times, potholes look shallower than they actually are; I underestimated the depth of one such pothole. While trying to overtake a truck, I slammed into a real deep one, which gave me wings. When Kartoos's front suspension went into it, I felt the rear tyre lifted over the ground.

Despite the numbness that commands one's mind after crashing, I had developed a habit to always run to the beast and probe the injuries it sustained before examining mine. I tried to continue with my own unscripted convention in this crash as well. I ran to Kartoos, lifted it and hustled it to the side of the road, where I parked it on the centre stand. Then, I sat with my back resting on a tree and smoked a cigarette. I had suffered many minor cuts and bruises on my palm and knees, but my right calf was burnt a little too wide after coming in contact with Kartoos's exhaust pipe.