A Trip To Remember - Part III

I’ve always been a person of limited sensibilities, which is just another way of saying that I understand very few things.

There are some things in life that make complete sense to me and need no rationale behind their existence, like a parent’s unquestionable love for his child, A R Rahman’s music, Sachin Tendulkar shattering every record possible, Elvis Presley, Manchester United, The Beatles, Bryan Adams, Priyanka Chopra and so on.

At the same time, I just cannot figure out certain things or the reason behind them, like Windows Vista, the I-Pad, the success of movies featuring Akshay Kumar, Size Zero, Rahul/Rakhi ka Swayamvar, Barrack Obama getting a Nobel Prize, Abhishek Bacchan getting married to Aishwarya Rai, Abhishek Bacchan getting an award, Abhishek Bacchan being called an actor and so on.

It may not work for everyone but this is how it has always worked for me. Simply put, I’ve always been able to categorize the events, happenings or relationships in my life into one of these categories – Those that make sense or those which don’t. This trip, at the very outset, fell somewhere in between. I was never sure where this belonged, and five years down the line, I still don’t know.

As planned, we hit the road by 5 PM and set out on the craziest thing either one of us had ever done.

I think it’s fair to introduce the most important and active character in the story- My Bike. My parents were nice and gullible enough to give me one when I went to Kota. Their rationale was that unlike most of the other children who had cycles; I’d spend less time travelling and more studying. I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong THAT went. I like to feel less guilty by telling myself that since I’ve never been much of a listener, I probably got it mixed up as I spent ALL my time travelling and hardly any..you know..studying. Common mistake. Aal eez well.

I got a shining, new silver Hero Honda Passion, which was a BIG deal, back in the day, for a tenth standard kid. I was given the liberty to splurge on my bike and I did, by installing a Sports-bike handlebar, alloy wheels and wider tyres.

Like most guys, I was dreamily in love with my bike. To the extent that if, like Spiderman, I was asked to choose

between my girlfriend or my bike, I wouldn’t even blink before choosing the latter. It was just perfect- the right look, low maintenance, completely in my control and was equally nice to all my friends as well as my mom. I think I have my reasons quite clear. For some reason, I can sense all the guys in the world, reading this, are nodding their heads in agreement.

The first hour of the trip was pretty relaxed and we covered around 80 KM. Dusk was upon us and the light was fading rapidly. From this point onwards, the villages started and things got a little tedious as the road, sometimes, went through the middle of the village.

I don’t think it would be fair to say that there were potholes in the road; rather a more accurate description would be that there was some road between the potholes. And absolutely no lights. None. Zilch. Nada. Zero. Animals, children and other villagers wouldn’t really care if a bike or a car’s coming at 70-80 KMPH. When they’ve got to cross the road, they’ve got to cross the road. Period. I almost crashed into a couple of villagers and said a silent prayer every time we had a close shave.

Meanwhile, Mr. Devansh was happily chattering away, sitting behind. He was in very good spirits- singing, joking and extremely proud of the fact that he came up with this ‘brilliant’ idea. “Imagine, years down the line, when you think about our friendship, you’d look back at how awesome and fun this trip was.”

Awesome. Check.

Fun. Check.

Big trouble. Double Check.

We were cruising along fine until we had the first ‘incident’ of the trip. As we were leaving one of the village roads and approaching the main highway, due to bad/no lights, I couldn’t sense a HUGE pit dug in the middle of the road. We were riding at around 60 KMPH and went right through it- Me holding on to the bike and Devansh holding on to me, for dear life. We were plain lucky that I could manage to handle the bike and we came out of it, without any major damage to us, or the bike. Or so we thought.

Nevertheless, we continued our quest for the Holy Grail, that elusive McVeggie. The rest of the journey was pretty much uneventful, barring a petrol pump selling ONLY vegetables and a creepy lady, completely in white, asking for a lift.

After travelling non-stop for about 5 hours, we managed to enter the city of Jaipur by 9:30 PM and after expert guidance by Devansh, reached McDonalds by 10:00 PM.

Only to find it closed.

On asking around, we were told that due to "reported terrorist threats", the city police ensured that all shops shut shop early that day. Score. Lord Murphy One. We Zero.

Devansh looked like someone who’d lost all his life’s savings in one shot. I turned around to tell him, “So, I guess you aren’t really LOVIN' IT now, are you?”, only to be almost thrown off the bike.

I learnt one of life’s most important lessons that day:

Never fuck around with a guy who’s been denied his McVeggie. Never.

A Trip To Remember - Part II

“So, if we leave now, we might hit the highway by 5 PM. That way we can make the 250 Km journey in almost 4 hours, as we’d obviously ride at around 60-70 Kmph and we should be able to reach Jaipur by 9 PM max. Perfect time for dinner. I know where exactly McDonalds is.” Devansh said, in one breath.

I kept looking at him, clueless. Not that the idea didn’t appeal to me at some level; it seemed fun and exciting but at the same time I’d heard about so many accidents on the same highway. Besides the bad road conditions, the highway was known for bad/no lights, stray animals as well as human beings casually strolling on it as it passed though a number of villages. Also, thinking about how my parents would react to this idea, that is if they ever got to know about is, wasn’t a very comforting feeling.

I asked him if he knew anyone who’d ever done something like this. “People do it all the time”, like all his friends were truck drivers, he said. “I know of people who go all the way to Jaipur from Kota, on a bike, just to have tea.” Clearly, Devansh wasn’t one to stick to facts as they were. He liked to exaggerate things when he was on a roll and it wasn’t nice to interrupt him when he did so. I once did that, interrupting him when he launched into a story about one of his uncle’s ability to eat humongous portions of food meant for dozens, alone. I ended up spending the next two hours being given exact details of his family’s food habits, historical roots and gastronomic details. Clearly information I could have done without, but then I learnt my lesson that day.

In retrospect, the story about how people go to Jaipur to just have tea and come back seems so stupid that I feel like a certified idiot for believing that. But, that was the thing about Devansh. I think he would have done much better as a salesman, going door to door, selling hair-dryers and encyclopedias. There was a unique manner in which he pitched things. I can’t put a finger to what it exactly was– his confidence, optimism or something else but he would wrap you up in his enthusiasm. You could start by vehemently opposing what he had to say, but before you’d realize, you’d find yourself nodding in agreement with him. I’m telling you, he could have made a fortune selling those encyclopedias.

So, I got up, picked up the heavy Organic Chemistry by I L Finar in one hand and Concepts of Physics by H C Verma in the other, and banged them both on his head, with the intent of knocking those ridiculous ideas once and for all, and walked out of the room.

Ok, I didn’t really do any of that, but I wish I would have. I ended up doing what any normal 18 year old guy would do at that point; picked up my keys and said “Let’s go!”

We tucked two shirts- one for him and one for me, toothbrushes, a deodorant, sunglasses, an ATM card, cell phones and their respective chargers in a bag, which Devansh hung around his shoulder and we were ready to roll! As an afterthought, I grabbed my helmet and gave it to him to hold on to.

I clearly remember that my last words to Devansh before leaving the house were “I swear to God, if ANYTHING goes wrong on this trip, YOU are to be blamed!”. That ever-optimistic idiot grinned and said “There’s nothing in the world that we can’t handle together.” And I smiled back.

If only we knew what we were getting ourselves into. 

A Trip To Remember - Part I

Disclaimer: All characters and events in the story- even those based on real people- are entirely fictional.

“You’re joking, right? Tell me that you are!” I said, sitting cross-legged on the bed, smoothening the creases on my bed sheet instinctively. I tend to do that – call it eccentricity, an obsessive compulsive disorder – whatever it is, I seem to suffer from an extreme case of it. I’ve been like this ever since I can remember and I like it this way. For some reason, a clean cupboard or a neatly arranged table turns me on more than Megan Fox in a chocolate tub.

Anyway, he carried on, paying little heed to what I just said, as if I didn’t exist. Story of my life. More often than not, nobody actually cares to listen to what I have to say. If they somehow do, they almost inadvertently laugh- be it talking about the global economic downturn, the fate of koala bears or Indian politics, like I’m Charlie Chaplin on crack. Ok, I’ve to admit even I can’t keep a straight face talking about Indian politics, but still.

“It’s 3:30 PM right now. We can make it.” He said calmly.

“Wait a second. Are you serious? Are you out of your mind?” I almost shouted out. “Yes, for the first question. As for the second part, let’s break it down” said the great one. I hated it when he said “Let’s break it down”. It always got us into trouble. Always.

I think a little character introduction is required here. “I” am Aatish, your narrator,friend, guide, philosopher and God for the rest of the story. Ok, maybe not the last bit. We all know there’s only One God and as he himself said, which can be loosely translated as, “Once I make a commitment, then I don’t even listen to myself.” and later went on to take off his shirt in a flash.

“He” is Devansh.

Well, if you’re looking for more character details, you’ll find yourself being a little disappointed. Thing is that there is nothing extraordinary about either one of us to point out. We were smart, hardworking and intelligent guys, on our way to a bright future, when it struck us and brought us down to the ground. Honestly, we’re both still trying to come to terms with it, five years and counting. Yes, you guessed it right, we went to Kota. That vast melting pot of talent, known for producing future engineers and doctors on an assembly line. Getting more into this would require another post of its own, so I’m gonna leave it for another day.

As you might have figured by now, I’m not a very good writer. My English teacher in third grade gave me a “Somewhat satisfactory, but a lot of scope for development” in my term paper, which has been a benchmark of sorts for me till date. I tend to get completely off-track every now and then. In that case, please feel free to skip lines, sometimes even paragraphs altogether and continue reading.

“So, let me get this straight. You want us to take an almost 250 Km ride from Kota to Jaipur, on one of the most accident-prone and ill-managed highways in the country with fading light, on a bike? For what joy?!” I asked, exasperated.

He looked me in the eye and said with utmost seriousness “Dude, I wanna have dinner at McDonalds.”

How could I argue with that?