Day 1: A little prologue and Mumbai to Lanja

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Mumbai roads don't look like Mumbai roads early morning at 5. The cool sea breeze laps you as you glide from one flyover to another.

I had left early morning on my bike towards Goa for first solo motor-bike ride. The plan was to drive over the south Indian peninsula for 50 days. A rough itinerary open to all sorts of improvisations. Mumbai streets looked unfamiliar with no crowds and a slight hint of its past glory. I dont carry an i-pod or any other music device. Two reasons: I get a headache within 15 mins of earphone music. The music of the road, the machine is good enough for me. I always keep on humming some song in a repeat mode. And I am lucky i can go on with the same song for hours. Otherwise some thoughts creep in and then the in-built 'linked list' kicks in with one thought pointing to other. Most of the links spread out dynamically over the time frame that I am driving. Some are just circular. So I was humming a recently released song Dil toh Baccha hai ji...trying to rememeber what the lyrics were. I got bored and turned to the events of the past week.

Coming back from the fascinating and very comfortable trip to Andamans with family, I spent the week in planning for the bike ride. Apart from the usual getting the repairs done on the bike, packing the necessary stuff, reading LP, two funny incidents occurred. One of my cousins recommended me to meet this guy who had covered almost all of India on his bicycle. I had a severe cold with running nose and a pounding headache. But I went to meet him anyway.
He had recorded all the trips with photographs, receipts and diary entries. He had a huge sarkari looking file of all the newspaper clippings on his adventure, his awards and similar stuff. We started talking. Well.. he started talking and then he lost control. He glowed as he recounted his adventures. Although fit, he was now old and confined to his apartment apart from the daily neighborhood walk and maybe be occasional out of town visits. The first hour was exciting . But then as he started opening files after files of his history, I started getting restless. I was wiping away my nose feverishly. But that did not deter him. Three hours of torture even for a travel freak like me. I cannot imagine what this would have done to a relative of mine who went to Niagara along with family and stayed in the indian stall near the parking lot saying "dhabdhabaa baghayale kay jaayche (Its just a waterfall. Whats the point?). The ordeal reminded me of that Chicago movie song Cellophane. Cellophane ..Should be my name.. Coz you can look right through me .. walk right by me and never know I am there. Of all that he said in those three hours, the only thing that stuck to me was staying in the police stations. He used to carry a letter from a local police station recommending him of his behaviour and asking for all the help that he may require.

The idea seemed crazy. But I thought i might give it a shot. It had a potential for tremendous adventure. So I went to the local police station that I remembered i saw one two years ago. But the small station wasnt there. I asked around and i was told that it was built illegaly on an un-authorised land and hence was razed ! No kidding ! A police station built illegaly ! Welcome to India. So I went to the main station. And it was a scene straight out of a typical hindi movie. There was a TV with some India cricket match reached in its exciting phase. No one bothered to give me a look. I identified a guy who looked as the senior most. I approached him and before I could open my mouth, he pointed to his sub-ordinate. with a 'whatever you want to talk does not merit my attention' look. So I turned to his sub-ordinate and his look made it amply clear that if if had any little hope of getting my work done, he is going to trash it. I told him my situation. I tried to explain what i was trying to do and how I wanted to travel over india. But his attention span was two sentences. Amhi kay karu ? I kind of realized what a fool I had been. I did not have one document that proved that I was a resident of that locality. My passport, driving license and pan-card all have different addresses. That guy did this stuff some 30 years ago. Now with the terror context, it was impossible for a police station to give me a character certificate. I tried to throw some weight around, my sister who is an IAS officer knew the Assistant Police commissioner of some division. But either I dont know the art of throwing weight around or the officer was super confident that whatever I was asking out of the ACP's league, he showed me the door. Quite an experience.

Cut ! Time for the first stop. A tea to warm up. Even the mumbai weather early morning at 70-80 kmph can numb your hands through your gloves. The rest of the journey was un-eventful on NH-17 Mumbai-goa highway. Except for one of my favourite tea-break spots. Its just before Chiplun near the Taj River-side. A small tapari with chairs facing the valley below. A winding road on your right that takes you down to the valley floor where a mighty vashisti river flows in no apparent hurry as does the life in this part of the world. You just seep the tea (saturated with sugar) and calm down your nerves ruffled up by the deadly "volvo" bus driver that nearly ran you over on the last turn.

My stop for the day was a distant relative staying in a small town called Lanja. Place where you dont need an address. You just ask where this guy lives. I had never met them before. But they were at hospitable best. They said they see a number of crazy backpackers (mostly foreigners with their huge backpacks). They actually said chakram without realizing I was that too. They asked me the purpose of doing this crazy stuff. I just mumbled something. I was too tired and crashed on the bed.

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Comments

[Joshua]

hey!
Geat articles buddy.. I love the tea shop too..especially their chairs...it is always and everytime a half an hour break there... was in fact scrounging for some info on Vijaydurg for my website (puneritraveller - planning to add a page on Vijaydurg beach) when i came across your article... by the way i also did a Bhutan trip on my bike!!!