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Published: September 8th 2013
Bright the Hawk's Flight on Empty Sky I was again a little reluctant to actually take off (leave Varanasi) but on the other hand it was getting far too flooded for comfort due to the still rising Ganga, and I was itching to get to the mountains. The weather forecast seemed good but once I hit the road, it rained on and off for about 3 hours. Many little stops on the way.
The memorable one was pulling into a small father and son carpentry shop (me and Gladys taking up most of their covered work-area – at their invitation) to get out of a heavy downpour. It was a cosy little scene – and within a space as big as the back of stamp was their shop next to a small grocery shop on their right, and another place (see below) on their left. There were perhaps 8 people in all just hanging around (carpenters, grocery shop wallah and family, and 'others'😉, all chatting away and of course very interested in their new arrival. We shared small talk in our broken English and Hindi, sharing basic information about
where I was from etc.. And of course the inevitable arrival of chai.
So …. on the other side of the carpentry shop sits this middle aged man astride an old weathered bench hunched over paperwork and an official looking stamp. I inquire as to what he is about – some kind of legal stuff or what? “He is the Post Office” comes the reply. Yep, there in front of me was the village Royal Mail Service (well, no longer royal in this republic of India) lock stock and barrel contained on that bench with that guy!
Just short of Lucknow, the National Highway (or did I miss something) turns into a motorcross derby dodging trees on a makeshift track alongside a major 'flyover' construction. It never ceases to amaze me how at one moment you are on a double carriage-way highway and the next on a goat track.
Lucknow was eventful in that the hotel had a 'secure' parking lot where I parked Gladys for the night. Next morning I discover she has been moved slightly AND her handle bar is bent out of shape (obviously dropped with some force against something). I am quick to
get angry and indignant (a worrying pattern I have been watching in myself of late – reactive and for who?). Only this time I really go to town and demand that the guy behind the desk (who dismissively makes a wave of the arm to say 'the manager will come later'😉 stop watching the bloody TV and get the manager now! Its only 7.30 am and India does not wake up till at least 9 or 10. I want to leave. I grab the remote control and turn the TV off and demand "NOW!". I go to my room to pack and tell him he has 30 minutes to get the manager. When I get back 20 minutes later he has the manager on the phone who says he is sleeping – I demand he come NOW! He says he will and he does (amazingly!). We have arguments around the damage being pre-existing and my demand for compensation (as I am sure I need to buy new handle bars). He of course says I can wait until the market opens at 10 and he will arrange a mechanic to fix it. I KNOW that such an idea will mean HOURS
of searching and waiting and justified reasons why it won't happen fast and that I would have to stay an extra night in Lucknow. I tell him I want my 450 rupees back for the cost of my room and that while it won't cover the repair I will accept it. He argues but eventually agrees (amazingly – I am on a roll – I should have asked for more as a quick sms to my friend back in Bhubaneswar has established that replacing the bar will cost at least 700 rupees).
I take my money, shake his hand (how magnanimous of me) and leave. About 30 kms down the road I see a small bike mechanic shop and pull in. A very competent owner knows exactly what to do - pulls off the grip and gizmos and uses a hollow metal rod to bend the bar back into near perfect shape. I give him 20 rupees and he is very happy, and so am I. Hm.... thinks 'Paul, did you over-react back in Lucknow or what?'
I had aimed to make it to Bareilly but also remembered it as a real hole. To my delight
I got there is plenty of time so pushed on, despite one guy at a rail crossing telling me the road towards Uttrachand was horrible. As I started off I thought 'when an Indian tells you the road is horrible, better you pay attention'. Its all relative – and often a local opinion of an OK road equals my version of a horrible road. So you can imagine! It was just disgusting – damaged from the monsoons of course and no chance (or no motivation) to fix it until all rains had ceased. There were mud holes and so many pot holes – it took me about 2 hours to do 50 kms. Things got better and I made it to Rudrapur for the night.
I wandered out of my hotel at about 8 pm for a bite to eat. I was in the Moslem end of town. As I looked up at the sign which read 'Chicken Restaurant – veg and non-veg' I asked myself 'do I want the veg chicken or non-veg chicken and what would the former be like?'. In the end I chose a biryani dhaba next door and asked the guy in his non-sunday
best attire (I mean his shirt was just black with filth) if they had veg biryani. He said yes and when the plate arrived I noted about 4 pieces of mutton. This became a huge joke (and I still don't know if he understood anything of my English or my protestations about the veg/ non-veg deal) right up to me leaving next morning and on the way past shouting from the bike “Veg? Or non-veg?”, I did get huge smiles from him. And the mutton was OK!
Apart from a long line of at least 3,000 trucks (I kid you not) all at a standstill because of a damaged road (with only bikes and small cars able to get through), the road beyond Radrapur was otherwise OK (which to a local must mean excellent, right!).
I had figured a long haul to Haridwar – but I got there in plenty of time. The way in took me through some eucalypt forests that would do justice to many places on the east coast of Australia. It amazes me how gum trees have been planted all over India (and other parts of the world) as quick growing bank stabilisers, water
absorbers, and I guess as firewood and building timber.
Haridwar ghats awaited me – and of course I took my mandatory bath in the Ganges. The place is pure colour and delight with its long market lanes and carnival feel (in a Hindu kind of way). I visited the small temple under the bridge that I had discovered back in 2009. It was a ruin now – due to some grand design to build a big temple which subsequently fell down. At the top of the stairs was still a quaint shrine with a baba who nodded when I pointed to the destruction and he said “four years before” alluding to how beautiful it used to be down by the Ganga. His face read 'stupid bastards and their big plans'.
I spent the next day (rest day) in Rishikesh – mainly to get Gladys looked at once again – this time by trusted Ranjeet (a whiz Bullet mechanic who is so nice – he once made a house call to where I was staying to get me out of trouble when my battery had been stolen). Well.... more work required this time – clutch plate, disc
pads, new chain and back sprocket, and again a full service. 7,000 rupees later and Gladys was this time a new gal. She was now perfect – just like off the showroom floor except better due to her maturity.
While waiting for the work to be done, I wandered up to the touristic end of Rishikesh and noted that the beach on the Ganga (yes, real beach) between the bridges was completely washed away by the swollen river. This is were Toko and I spent hours back in 2009 just chatting away – I take a pic and email it to her (this smart phone stuff is too much). Within minutes (presumably from Birmingham) she mails back and says “wow” and tells me she will have her baby any moment now. I reflect on how she (like other young friends) are only just beginning that part of their lives. It makes me feel a tad old and reflective of time gone.
I headed for Sushile's chai stall – he wasn't there – his trolley was all packed and locked. As I spread my trusted (borrowed) Quantas rug under his peepal tree for a nap in the
shade I think (affectionatley) 'lazy fellow – not coming to open the shop today' and proceed to sleep!
There are several quite decent looking dogs lying around also having naps in the shade and I remember that Sushile looks after them when he is there. Nice. Then another dog approaches and they all start growling and carrying on. I say “come on guys, we can all share” and then “hm.... talking to dogs now are we? Interesting”.
Then another quick dip in the Ganga and several chais at a rival stall. There is a brahmin guy there apparently on R&R recovering from some illness – and he has this fantastic music (Indian bhajans) playing over his mobile phone. I ask and he tells me its Anoop Jalota – a name I note down for future reference.
On the way back, an old bloke straight out of Monty Python's Holy Grail accosts me and asks if he can ask me some questions. I was in a playful mood and said “knock yourself out mate”.
First question: Where are you from?
My answer: Australia
His answer: from heaven
OK
fair enough – that's the game then! I'll play with you.
Second question: Who is rich and who is poor?
My answer (learned sounding accent): He who has found god within is rich.
His answer: the man who has friends is rich, and he who has none is poor.
OK – got me there – although I think I deserve some points at least!
Third question: Give me something?
My answer: No
His answer: you are a selfish man
And off I walk thinking 'well constructed questions and to the point, not a bad effort at engagement. I'll give you 8 out of 10 for trying'.
Making my way back to the bike shop, I needed change for a chai wallah and went to a restaurant to asked the proprietor. He was talking to a 45 year old English guy (Jay - Iranian descent) and we got talking. He was an interesting enough person who was trying to write a novel, but had this thing about some ancient prophecy predicting the American dollar was going to completely collapse (within
the next month) throwing the world into total financial chaos, and then (within the year) a calamitous flood meaning only one spot high in the Peruvian mountains (oh... and maybe in Nepal but he saw that option as not as well appointed) would be safe. The trick was, according to Jay, to get to Peru before the monetary collapse because after that it would be almost impossible to get anywhere (all airlines would be in disarray). What to do?, he asked. I said “Look Jay, we are all going to die anyway right? And worrying about this is a waste of (empty) space. So just relax a little – if it happens then it happens”. He was not convinced and has started sending me daily accounts of the prophecy in detailed emails. If this is my last blog, you'll know why (but then again – you will be in total disarray yourselves and won't be bothered about some mad traveler's blog).
Before I pick up the bike, I stroll down the lazy streets of old Rishikesh to Pappu's Lassi where I have one for Toko (as instructed in the earlier email). One of the best.
The bike is not quite ready. Ranjeet invites me to accompany him to see his new Royal Enfield showroom and workshop being constructed about 3 km up the road. I am honoured that he would do that. We have been in infrequent email contact when I was in Australia and maybe he sees me as a friend (whatever that means). But I do like this guy – he is a professional with a certain nobility about him. He proudly shows me the layout of the new premises and we chat about 'the company' (Royal Enfield) and their new modernisation and marketing requirements and pressures placed on 'dealerships' for them to remain in operation (like the lay out for this new showroom that has to meet certain specs – happening all over India now).
By the time I leave Rishikesh on a sparkling Gladys (she has been washed and polished) its already dark and starts to rain heavily – just for 20 minutes – I get a bit wet but then dry off as I approach Haridwar where it has not rained at all and the air is warm. I stop at a dhaba for a bite, and head on to bed and sleep.
Next day I get going by 7am – and again make much better time than expected. When I reach the fresh canal that marks the beginning of the climb into the mountains, its the middle of the day and hot – I stop and take a dip in the fast flowing and cold water. Just great! I get all the way to Balispur in the mountains – just hours from my mountain retreat. I can taste it!
I arrive in Jibhi by mid -morning the next day. Rana prepares a cottage for me and tells me this is my home. As I walk in I smell that familiar Deodar cedar that the place is constructed from – and I know I am home. Its empty (I am alone here this time) but it's my place. I have the best sleep since arriving in India – no noise, no whirring fan. Just stillness. And a comfy bed with a doona – bliss. I wake with a smile on my face. I am home.
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Carolina
non-member comment
You look great, as usual! This shirt sounds familiar to me!! xx