All it takes is a little push...

As I sit back and think of what happened over the last few months, I can't help but notice that I have gone out of my way to do something which I thought would never happen. Taking a stride into a zone outside of my comfort has given me an experience of a lifetime, which in deed would not have been possible if not for Srinivas, who is responsible to get the seed of thought in our minds, and also do a lot of research to make it a success; and Chaitanya, a brute enthusiast, for his positive energy towards the certainty with regards to happening of this trip encouraged me to dive into the idea without thinking of too many consequences. Consequences, yes, there were quite a few, the biggest on of those being a big hole in the pocket. And then there is a huge risk if you ride into the Himalayas without having been riding a bike, let alone a bullet, for more than an year.

It all started way too casual. When Srinivas had told me the final plan and asked me to come over to his house to book tickets, I went that night with a thought that I can cancel them later anyway. We were to travel in exactly two months' time from the date of booking. As the days passed by, the discussions for the trip started. I joked around about going on the trip with some of my close friends still unsure of the certainty. Then there was only a month left when I started going to the gym, suddenly feeling the need to boost my stamina which had taken a beating in the last couple of years. I considered seriously about going on the trip by then and had started shopping for it already. In no time, the day had come and we were on our way. The excitement had started but I still had serious doubts about the success, for there wasn't enough confidence. All those doubts, however, were put to rest within the first fifty kilometers of the ride, which I recall to be the most memorable, ironically also, the last fifty.

The first day of the ride was all about excitement, gradually being taken over by a rush of adrenaline. Amazing is a word loosely used these days, but when I looked back at the day, amazing is an understatement. Also, I doubt if I can ever repeat what I did that day. I've always had a fear of heights, but I was rising by the minute, the sweet sound of the bike giving me enough adrenaline to carry on unmindful of the heights that scared me all my life. Manali to Rohtang pass was the most challenging. When Stone, our guide, said we'd take a lot of time to reach Rohtang pass due to tourist movement, I thought there would be reasonable traffic. To my utter disbelief I see at least a thousand vehicles lined up on the ghat road, which would hardly accommodate two four wheelers side-by-side. We had the bikes though - easy to sneak in; and we were doing exactly that until I saw the road ahead turning into a pool of mud. We were riding uphill, I was closely following Stone concentrating my best to maneuver exactly as he was doing, when suddenly there was one point where we could not sneak through the left side of the four wheeler ahead, which we had been doing since it was safer. To our left was the hill and to the right was the valley. Stone saw that there was no space to go through the left. He took a surprising step, trying to overtake the SUV from the right side, where the road was half a feet deep in mud, and a free fall of easily over three thousand meters just about twelve inches to his right. Stone did it with absolute ease, the brilliant rider that he is. I stopped contemplating what to do next, then I took the bold decision to follow his lead, mainly because there were five more riders behind me. I moved towards the right and accelerated as slowly as possible when I was on the pile of mud. Out of sheer nervousness and to over-take as quickly as possible, I tried to accelerate a little more, but noticed that the rear tyre was slipping towards the valley if I sped. I concentrated hard, looked at the people around hoping someone would reach out in case I was falling, but also realised that I would already be a thousand meters down, if I happen to fall, before anyone even moved. I  rode slowly, praying to God, prayers basically made when you think you're about to die. I was terrified, I don't remember how I felt or what happened in the next few seconds, but then suddenly, I had crossed it, still breathing alright. I looked back towards the way I came from with a wry smile which took my gaze into the valley when my legs started trembling. It humbled me just enough as I got down from the bike, looked heavenwards, closed my eyes and breathed in slowly to absorb the most wonderful experience of my life yet. I still shiver at the thought of making that maneuver, but that gave me a huge amount of confidence going further and I rode like there's nothing else I can do in life except riding. We passed by a lot of muddy roads and rode uphill until we reached the Rohtang pass where we had our breakfast - maggi, which would become our staple food in the days to come, and bread-omelette. Rohtang pass was an inexplicable natural beauty full of tourists. Masses of people were enjoying the beauty of snow-capped mountains. I remember the sounds of joy of tourists on the snow rides - Yaks, motorboats and many more, kids' laughter while they were hurled at with snowballs, the chattering of older men and women around, and amongst all that, what I remember the most is the voice in my head which wanted me to get on to that riding machine and ride until eternity.

After we'd pass the traffic en-route the Rohtang Pass

Thirteen hundred kilometers and ten wonderful days later, we were all set to return to Manali. We had almost reached back to the Rohtang Pass when the roads were being gulped by monstrous clouds all around. It was a blind sight anywhere beyond ten meters ahead of us. I had dreaded rains all through the ride, for I never liked riding in it, while everyone else wanted to experience riding in the rain or snow-fall, which fortunately we hadn't seen until then. Snow-fall meant we couldn't ride due to the slippery roads, but rains were not an excuse, and there it was, slowly making its way. It had started raining when we reached the Rohtang Pass. It was a Tuesday, a day off for the tourist visits to the Rohtang Pass, hence traffic was negligible. Surprisingly, I had started enjoying the rain. The blind vision on the road made it even more exciting. It was like playing hide-and-seek with Stone and Akash, who were ahead of me. Every time I slowed down a little bit, they disappeared in the clouds and then I sped along to keep them within the sight. I was laughing to myself, shouting with joy, a sense of happiness had taken over. Into the last few minutes of the ride, I thought about how this trip happened, about the doubts I cast on myself, about the uncertainties that would mar the happening of the most wonderful days of my life, and yet I was there, feeling blessed to have taken the plunge.

As I look back to those days, I wonder what I did different from all those things that I really wanted to do, but couldn't. The trip has changed the way I think about myself, the way I can do things that I think I can not. Things I thought were impossible to do, now seem very much within the grasp. After much contemplation, I realised that it were the little things that changed the decision. The little things that made this happen, the little seed of thought, the little encouragement from my mother, who said this will be once in a lifetime chance, the little thought of taking the risk to see if it's worthwhile. At the end of all those things put together, I earned myself eleven days of Nirvana and a realisation telling me that if I ever wanted to do something I think I can not, do not back down for all it takes is a little push...

..... and just in case you might be interested, here's the link for a few of those wonderful memories: - 

https://picasaweb.google.com/103611057628977904138/ElevenDaysOfNirvana?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCIvYpIC7wvWRugE&feat=directlink