Ride to Break Free- Part1

  It was the 10th of December 2011, about 3 weeks post my CA final exams. The herculean task of appearing for all 8 papers had left me blank and I was waiting for that perfect getaway to get back to my senses. It was this day that brought me back to my senses. The day started off with me waiting for a bunch of thumpers for nearly an hour. Then out of nowhere I heard a familiar sound of one of the most majestic machines created by man(Royal Enfield Bullet). Rajaram Chinakkan, one of the senior most riders called out to me and said I was too early. I said it was the excitement that drove me to come early. Soon a bunch of bulleteers followed and the total count was 9. Every passer by stared at us, for we were all padded up and raring to go after a glass of cutting chai. The start was sort of jinxed I suppose. With all of us raring to go with our engines roaring we heard a louder noise to our shock. The leader, Atul Vig's chromed Machismo 350 suffered a puncture. A quick run to the tyre shop and we were good to go.

  The journey kicked off from Kharghar. Destination- Bhandardara, one of Maharashtra's scenic jewels. After riding through a stretch of loose gravel and dust we soon joined NH3. We were riding flat out at about 110 Km/hr. A trail of Royal Enfields thumping along was a sight no one could resist. Every tourist bus we passed, we got a round of salutes and applause. Families out on a weekend drive were stunned to see us trail blazing and they were more than happy to take out their cameras and shoot us as much as possible. Not to mention, I was more than willing to slow down for quick flash. We had our 1st pit/pee stop after nearly 2 hours of riding. As the bikes rested, we emptied our bladders contributing for a greener tomorrow.

We then realized that only 6 of us had made it to this point. The remaining 3 were attending to our 1st mechanical failure of the ride. The oldest bike in our group a 1991 model was finding itself a little too tired. The troop marched on with them joining us. I also got a sound thrashing from Manish Sharma our tail guide for riding slow on rough patches. He said you ride a bullet, it relishes all kinds of abuse so better not slow down for a few inconspicuous craters.

  The cruise continued and we entered the ghat section. Traffic had slowed us down but the attention we got only multiplied. The thump was louder and echoing in the mountains as we tackled the twists and turns. I'm sure the Gods above would have heard the 'beat' of 9 riders. I was more worried whether the noise would cause a landslide. But anyway as we progressed through the meandering roads we all heard another growl. No, it wasn't another group of riders but our own stomachs. We halted at a roadside dhaba when we realized that our fellow rider with the oldest machine was way back limping forcefully. He had the support of Manish Sharma(Tail guide & Chief Mechanic) who guided the overheating machine to join us for breakfast. Typical village restaurant, we had the most authentic misal pav. Every drop of it was 100% Maharashtrian.

With our stomachs full, we proceeded further feeling the clean village air. Another short curvy stretch of roads and we realized we were getting nearer and nearer. Kids around the village greeted us with their biggest smiles. That's when I realized what it is to actually ride the oldest motorcycle brand in the world. Every kid, every adult knows the legendary marque BULLET. We were probably leaving lasting impressions in the minds of these kids. The chilly winds and the clear skies added to the feel of the ride and we soon reached our site. We were all hoping to pitch in tents to spend the night. After a few negotiations we were told that tents were available and we continued riding down to the river bank. The spot was a piece of heaven. Something none of us could have ever imagined. I guess this photo would speak more than anything.

The crystal clear waters was something I last saw in a Nat Geo magazine. Our jaws dropped in awe when we were told that the tents would be set up just 3 feet away from the river bank. I said to myself, this is what a weekend vacation meant. There was not a single sound around. Absolute peace and serenity. None of us spoke for a while for everyone of us city bred riders decided to enjoy the silence, surrender to the rustling of leaves and appreciate mother nature for her magnificent creation. But for me things were a little different. I could still hear the thumping beat of the 9 motorcycles ringing in my ears and my hands voluntarily vibrating as though I'm still riding. This could only mean one thing.

    I was surely getting back to my senses. How much of it I regained shall be revealed in the 2nd part. Till then, happy riding!!!