Friday, 6 November 2015

Where'd I pick the bug?

Share it Please
Over the length of the ride I have been asked two very repetitive questions.                                                                        
1) Yezdi!!!!! Kitna deti hai ??  (Its an all India favourite to ask when enquiring about vehicles)
I'd reply with random figures depending on my mood, but mostly I would shoot figures of 50 km/ltr, watch the man's jaw open in disbelief and then just ride off leaving him in his state of bewilderment. 

2) Kyun kar rahe ho? daar nahi lagta? gharwale ne rukaya nahi?
These are 3 questions rolled into one so they don't look like they are being overly inquisitive. But shamelessly are being anyway.

Answers to this were very hard to give frankly. I myself am left looking for an appropriate answer till date. Id explain to them that I have been riding long distance through India for almost 5 years and I aim and dream of riding across borders. I say I needed a break from the city. But all these answers never addressed their inquiry. They had more questions ready with them and the whole thing would turn into some form of interrogation.
                                     
No harm done, just some nice friendly company for chai and I was on my way to the next question booth 100 km away.

But these questions overtime kept ringing in my head. I wanted to find an answer to this. 
The deep rooted answers as to what lead me to this juncture in my life.


Its my 2 travel ladies, Mum (Meher) and her mum (Dolly Mummy). 
In school, before the 2 weeks Diwali off, Meher would come and apply to the principal's office for an extension of 7 -10 days. Year on year I'd travel thru India with family. From 36 hr train rides to Kolkatta, to sitting in the back of a 4x4 Range Rover from the 1960 and climbing to unheard of places in Sikkim near the Nepal border.

                                

In the 2 month long summer vacations, Dolly mummy would drive her 1989 Fiat Padmini all the way up to Panchgani through the infamous Poladpur Ghat. The Mumbai Pune express-way wasn't even on paper at those times. Id tie down my cycle on the roof carrier and live in a sanatorium for 60 days cycling the slopes.


I grew up taking long off, I grew up roughing it out in the outdoors, I grew up seeking my yearly dose of adventure, I grew up falling and getting dirty, I grew up in the hills, with the wind in my face and the sun charring my skin. 

I may have figured out the answer to the questions while doing vipasana in my helmet. I even used these answers at one of the question booths over chai, It wasn't enough of an answer for the investigating officer. With my head tucked back into the helmet, the mind was back a the drawing board finding a better reason. but my heart knew why I do, what I do.

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