Kutch ko run kar diya – RoK – An epic ride, an epic experience

(Side note – I waited for over a year to publish this piece cause I wanted to give some of the actors in this story ample time to right some of the wrongs they did. But more than a year down the line – unfortunately – nothing. Hence…publishing now.)

Ch1 - The planning

The New year was fast approaching, and I was busy making plans to go to the Kumbh Mela.
The year is 2025.
And then BOBMC (Brotherhood of Bulleteers Motorcycling Consortium) goes and announces the venue for the Rider Mania (RM) – Rann of Kutch (RoK).
Now, almost every Indian biker has three dream destinations.
Sort of like a ‘rite to passage’ - Khardungla, RoK and Spiti (and now some newer destinations have been added thanks to road connectivity). So, when RoK is announced I have no option but to go. Here was a fantastic reason to ride to RoK (not that we need a reason – buuuuttt you know…).

I reach out to my “biking family” – the club I have been riding with for several years now. Close to 20 people from Bangalore have registered for the event and are planning to ride down.
That’s awesome. I should be able to join someone.
I call several. But disappointment awaits me.
I hear, “oh, we have already made plans”, “our rooms are booked” … “yada-yada” ….
Message received. I AM NOT WELCOME.
I can hazard several guesses, educated perhaps, but guesses, nevertheless. The fact though remains. In a club of more than 120 members in Bangalore alone, with over 20 going to this event I can find no one to ride with.
But then, I am made of more resilient stuff. Like several others my gender, I have not had red carpets rolled out anywhere. We fought and claimed every opportunity we could. We know how to forge our own paths. And we are quite accustomed to having the door shut in our face.
“Family” notwithstanding.

Now I know that there is a good possibility that there are other women riders who might also be facing the same issue. So, I reach out to a lady rider who I know to be a kick-ass rider (in hindsight, and you will read why, later on, a good rider doth not make a good riding mate or a decent human being even). She plans to go too. I then reach out to another 'All-women-biking-club'. And one more lady agrees to join in.

And thus, is formed the little group I am to ride with.
I knew I was taking my chances.
I had never ridden with one of them and with the other I did have some apprehensions. But then I am NOT a solo-rider – I abhor (strong word I know, but that is how I feel) riding solo…essentially, I had no other option being a “(beep)-non-solo riding woman”…

I then set to working out a plan, a route map and put the framework in place. The three of us then meet up to work out a plan and to get to know each other. ‘V’ had just done a solo trip to Rajasthan a few months back. She has a good idea of the actual road conditions. Using her know-how, she changes the entire plan. I am good with that. This is good info. The framework for the route plan is ready.

I then need to leave on a family vacation. I promise to flesh out the plan while on my travel. Meanwhile the two ladies meet and continue to work on the plan. They go into nuances and details, chart out stops, places to stay, number of kms to be covered every day, number of hours it will take to reach etc. Lot of work. and excellent work. The three of us then meet on a few video calls and put the final finishing touches to the plan.

Ch 2 – Get set GO 

Day 1- 24^th Jan’25 Solapur: The day finally dawns – 24^th January 2025. We were to meet at 4.15am and start riding at 4.30am. Buuuutttt… one of them is delayed (in hindsight, I should have read the signs!). And some technical glitches later we finally start at 5.30am. Our first stop - Solapur. We need to cover a distance of 620 kms.

We ride hard, we stick together throughout. We reach Solapur at 5.48 pm covering a distance of 614.5 km. As we turn into the place we are to spend the night at. I see V to the left of me. The two of us ahead wait at the turn. But V rides past us, oblivious to our indicators, hand gestures, even the map on her handle bar! We are perplexed. We call her. She says she didn’t see us (and I not only had my indicator on but kept flagging the right we were taking.). She says the lack of sleep is making her dazed, not to worry, she has got maps on and she will join us shortly…she needs to ride some distance to take a U because of the road divider.

A beautiful two BHK serviced apartment was booked. We arrive and check in. As I unsaddle the guard comes up to me…
Guard: “Aap teen ladkiyan Bangalore se ispe aye hain?”... (The three of you ladies have ridden by yourself on these vehicles all the way from Bangalore?).
Me: “Haan ji, hum teen saath mein.” (Yes, the 3 of us together).
Guard: “Yeh gaadi tho hum bhi nahi chala pathe hain. Aap log kaise challa lethein ho”. (How do you ladies ride these bikes. Even we men can’t ride these).
I smile sweetly at him and shrug…I have got reactions of this kind for all the 20+ years I have been riding, and I still do not quite know how to respond🙍

For the entire time I unsaddle he stands there unable to wipe off the look of awe and wonder on his face. I smile as sweetly as I possibly can at him and continue with what I need to do.

We then freshen up and treat ourselves to some much-needed R&R post a hearty meal at a really nice restaurant just adjacent to where we are staying and then it is lights out on an awesome day.

  

Ch 3 – Flying along

Day 2, 25^th January’25, Surat: Our plan was to start riding by 6am, but all three of us oversleep. We  rush, we saddle up and we somehow manage to start by 7am. Today we need to reach Surat. That is 715kms of riding. Google “mathe” (mother)😊 says we will need 13 hours. Factoring in breaks that are an absolute must, we know it will take a heck of a lot longer. Again, ride hard and minimal breaks. We don’t look for fancy restaurants and make do with some “authentic” street food, which actually turns out to be quite yum.

The roads are incredible. “Makhan” (butter) smooth like silk and straight as an arrow, for most of the way. My Triumph flies and the joy of that throttle, I cannot get enough of! A scorching sun that redefines “bright” and road temperatures of perhaps 45C+. We still make good time for the most part. 

At one point though my quick reflexes are put to the test and the grace of the angles watching over me – helps me avert a major disaster. So…I am taking a right, coming off a bad patch, entering the highway. V was behind me to the left. There is a car also taking the turn I was going into. V turns sharply into me and almost hits me from behind. I see this in my rear view. Just in time. (Like I said – those angels were really doing their bit to keep me protected!). I realize she is way too close. I rev and open throttle. (This is an unedited version of the video I had on at the time. That is D riding ahead of me and V is behind me. At 1.06 you will see me looking sharply to the left and you will see V's front tyre in the frame. I then rapidly pick pace at this moment). 

Thankfully the 900cc’s under me kick in and I get out of the turn a fraction of a second before she is in the same spot I was in. Had I not opened throttle and if my bike was any slower, I would have gone down real bad. Perhaps bringing the entire adventure to an end. But the universe is with me today. Today is not my day to go down. I don’t think she even realizes and rides along blissfully unaware. I let it go. I don’t bring it up a single time. I think it is better to keep the peace. 

We ride on. Several kms later, at one of the turns, there is this incredible experience waiting for me. 

I look up. 

There is this huge flock of birds and I am right under them. 

For just a moment I feel like I am one of them. 

Flying in formation. 

Riding the wind. 

The feeling is indescribable. “Freedom” in the truest sense of the word. 

Free, and only dancing to the wind with roaring engines that make the endless kms feel like a song and a dance. 

We finally enter Surat by 8.30 pm. Now the road entering Surat is beautifully lit and doesn't look the India I know. Jazzy, snazzy, neon lights. Beautifully lit quaint looking lamp posts…oh what a visual treat. I see a board, “Surat, the cleanest city in India”, and I am thinking to myself wow…this is so awesome. Then we take a turn and that turn unfolds into a very different reality. Rubble and filth strewn right parallel to this snazzy road! It looked like a scene out of a bombed city with men relieving themselves anywhere and rubble strewn everywhere! (Interesting fact - most men's bladder - 700ml, women's bladder - 500ml. But it is the men urinating everywhere...why?!) 

We roll up to our stay for the night. Another visual treat. Looks really fancy. Circular building, smartly dressed security guards et al. But the theme persisted – all smoke and mirrors – outside looking all fancy, inside a totally different story, with paan stained walls. In any case we needed to halt only for one night. We unsaddle (this saddling and unsaddling part must be the most cumbersome task of motorcycle touring!) make our way to the room, order food, shower and crash. Tomorrow, we have a ferry to catch, and we need to report at the loading dock by 8am. We are 30 minutes from the dock.

 

Ch 4 – Toot-toot the ferry, a fussed fuse and the cat-walking lioness (heart-in-mouth-moment)

Day3 - 26^th Jan’25, Gir: We wake up early, stuff our faces with some sandwich from the previous night, saddle up and rev it up to the dock. Thankfully we make it well in time. 

Now the is an experience all in itself. 

It is a huge ship that can carry people, bikes, tempos and even trucks. It is called ‘Roro Ferry’ from Hazira to Gogha (read more here). 

Like I said, the ladies have done a fab job at planning. Our tickets were bought well in advance and all we had to do was show up and ride our bikes onto the ferry. While waiting we meet and get chatting with other bikers who are also enroute BOBMC.

Once aboard we make our way quickly to the upper deck. It is a 4-hour ferry that leaves at 9am and arrives at 1pm at Gogha. Onboard we meet several people, our riding gear (we stay in it cause in four hours we continue with our ride...) piques a lot of interest. About 12ish we dock at Gogha. We make our way down to where our bikes are parked, gear up and roll out. My bike had developed a wobble the previous day. So while the ladies rode on ahead I stop to check my tyre pressure soon after disembarking. Once done I catch up with the ladies who were waiting just ahead.

Today the destination is Gir. We are booked there for 2 nights. The distance we need to cover is about 200 kms. We have about 6 hours of sunlight left. Our aim was is to reach the stay before
sundown, given that we had to cross thick forest areas enroute the stay.

With this intention we start. Enroute, however, as luck and road trips will have it - one of us have a breakdown. 

I have ridden ahead. I don't spot the two behind me. I stop and call V. A breakdown. So I ride back. Once there I get to know that when we had gone through a really bad patch where boulders existed instead of roads and while negotiating this patch D’s wired mobile holder had snapped and fallen. Post this she has ridden for about 10-20km when the bike stalled. 

Once again our guardian angels are showing up in full force, for this happens not too far from a dhaba and a motley collection of little shops – perhaps the only patch of populated stretch in a otherwise lonely stretch of road. While the ladies are hunched over the engine trying to figure what the issue is, I notice a closed workshop. We need to call the person. The number on the board though was written in Gujarati. So we request a neighboring shop to help and call him. Despite it being Republic Day and a Sunday to boot the kind man agrees to come and help. In the meantime, we had already taken off the saddle bags and are attempting a fix ourselves.

Now here is the funny part. We pull out the fuses. I have this nifty little Leatherman tool with which we accomplish the job. One of the fuses has blown. We replace it. But the bike doesn’t start. I then get on a video call with my mechanic bhai (most of us Bulletteers have a special bond/relationship with our mechanic 😊) who attempts to trouble shoot over video. 

The local mechanic is not familiar with these set of wheels and is unable to help much. (D's ride is a Himalayan 411). 

And so my mechanic bhai is giving us instructions on video and under his guidance the local mech and we pull out literally every wire. 

But still no luck. 

We are scratching our heads and really trying everything possible…but no luck…the bike refuses to budge. He then says, check the fuses again. We had already done this…but then we went ahead…and lo and behold. 

One of the fuses – which we had checked – was bust. To our untrained eyes we didn’t realize the fuse had blown since it was still connected inside. And now the conundrum. We don’t have any more fuses. And then we learn a “jugaad” from the local mech. He takes a piece of copper wire and connects the blown fuse and the machine roars to life. Jaan wapas aa gayi! We profusely thank the local mechanic, offer to pay him, he refuses. Imagine that. He opens his shop on a holiday, spends close to an hour with us and helps us fix the issue, but refuses to take money. We, however, force the money on him and profusely thank him. 

In the meanwhile, a family that was out for lunch at the dhaba (which is where all this tamasha is happening) see us and buys us chai. They then come up to us, chat for a bit. The man offers us his number and tells us no matter where we are in Gujarat, if we need any help, we only need to call. We then take a few pics with the kind and generous family and the people around and we start once again to Gir. By then it was already 5.40pm. And we still had to ride through dense forest area where the lion roams free.

Without wasting any more time we quickly start off and by about 6.30ish we enter dense forest area where the road is just about half a lane wide! Our speeds come down drastically cause not only are the roads really narrow but there is a speed breaker every 50 meters. At this point I am in the lead with D in the middle and V as sweep. We put D in the middle since she is unable to use her maps given that her mobile mount had broken. So with me in lead we ride along. Since the road is winding several times we don’t really see each other. 

It was during one of these stretches, I had just cleared a speed breaker and a lioness ‘catwalks’, or should I say ‘lion-walks’ across the road, right in front of me. She emerges from the forest on my left, crosses the road just ahead of me and disappears into the bushes on my right. At that point I go through this range of emotions, from awe, to wonder, to fear, to intense excitement (damn, I didn't have the camera rolling!). The moment she crosses, I look into the rear-view mirror, but the ladies were too far behind to have witnessed this incredible experience. I quickly try to call V, but there is no mobile network, so I continue, I know better than to stop in that area. I had covered about 100 meters and an owl in flight just about misses my headlight as it takes off from the right bottom up into the trees to the left.

By this point I am shaking with excitement or fear, I am not sure which. I then pull myself together concentrating on negotiating the many speed breakers and winding narrow roads. Our headlights are barely able to pierce the dense darkness, even with the additional LED lights I had installed on my bike, I was barely able to see a few paces ahead of me. The darkness was that thick. Once I had ridden for a while I again try V and finally am able to connect with her. I tell her what happened, and she goes “woah” to “wooooo” to a few other sounds to that effect. And she says “Don’t tell D, let’s just keep it to ourselves and ride through”, she is already riding under duress and we don’t want to add to her stress. I agree.

We finally reach our stay at 8.15 pm. Engines off, we quickly unsaddle, get out of riding gear and head for some fantastic Kathiyawadi food. The staff at the at the resort are very hospitable and attentive and while having our dinner we share our stories from the ride and bring D up to speed with what she had missed. It has been a long and eventful day with such a mix of emotions, hard riding, chance encounters and what not – that only a road trip will expose you to all-in-a-day! 

Tomorrow morning we are slated to go on a safari at the crack of dawn. Now this safari was made possible thanks to some incredible charm, negotiating skills, networking, follow-ups and several calls by V. the reason for all of that? The safari is supposed to be booked online. Swell isn’t it. But this is Indiyeaaahhhh my darling. Which means that whilst some slots are available online, most of them are booked by “agents” and then sold in black. Hence V’s charm in finding the right contact who tells us that it will cost us 10k/ jeep (Govt rates are 6k a jeep). Now we had come all this distance, and we were not going to balk at this number. So, we agree. Which means we need to be up by 5 and at the gate of Sasson Gir at 6am. So, with that, it was lights out.

 

Ch 5 – Slick spotted grace and the lighted show

Day 4 - 27^th Jan’25, Gir: We wake much before the sun says hello, get ready and ride to the gates of Sasson Gir. Now the three of us are a bit apprehensive given that we to meet this agent/dalaal and we are not sure we can trust him. What if he takes our money and runs. So, we plan to pay him an advance and pay the rest post the safari. He, however, meets us at about 6.30 am and asks to be paid in full. When he asks, we can’t really refuse him point blank for fear of offending him. We tell him we will Gpay him, and he says pay me laterit is ok. We heave a collective sigh of relief. This guy is not pulling a number on us! Post a bit of wait and another cup of road side walli chai (alag hi swaad hotha hain road ka chai!) we get a jeep all to ourselves. 

We drive ahead, pick up a guide and we are on our way into the world-famous Gir (quote from https://www.girnationalpark.in/): - “Gir National Park is the only place in the world outside Africa where a lion can be seen in its natural habitat. The lions of Gir are a majestic animal, averaging 2.75 metres in length, and with a bigger tail tassel, bushier elbow tufts and prominent belly folds than his African cousin which has larger mane. Gir is a home to 40 species of mammals and 425 species of birds. We all know, Gir is the only natural habitat of world popular Asiatic Lions.”

We were cold, but we are super excited and charged up. We keep praying to the powers that be, that we should have some good sightings, given all the trouble we have gone to. And it seems like the Gods, they are listening. We are first treated to the sight of a lioness calmly strolling along the path, right ahead of our vehicle. A little ahead we see two young lioness frolic and play.  The sight is awe inspiring. Those huge paws, all that muscle, wrestling in the mud, kicking up a mini dust storm.

As we make our way through the winding paths of the forest, we hear a langur call. The guide calls the vehicle to a halt, and we wait with bated breathes. We don’t know really know what to expect, but excited nevertheless. The guide tells us – “langurs and sambars don’t an alarm call unless they have sighted a predator. Deer on the other hand are anxious and keep giving several false alarms. So, if you hear a langur or a Sambar’s alarm call, rest assured, that there is a predator in the immediate vicinity and they have actual sight of the animal”.  And so, we wait. The guide tells the driver to drive on a little ahead and to our absolute incredible lucky stars, or was it an answer to our prayers, we spot a leopard. Now anyone who has tried to spot this extremely shy cat knows that that is not easy. The video was shot on a very average Samsung mobile camera – which doesn’t do the sighting justice, but I need to make do, cause I am no expert on photography and have no fancy lens. The three of us are grinning ear-to-ear. Poora paisa wasool it has been and all that effort to wake up early has paid off rich dividends.

We continue to roll on, we spot peacocks, a horned eagle, an owl etc. and we finally conclude our safari, pay the agent, and get to our bikes.

Here there were scores of tourists. They see us getting on to our bikes. I can hear them talk in a loud whisper – “they are from Keral (they don’t say Kerala and I am really glad that India has now come far enough to know that everything down south is not “Madras”!). One of them drums up the courage to approach me and he says “aap log Keral se ho?” (are you people from Keral). I say “nahi, hum log Bangalore, Karnataka se hain” (no, we are from Bangalore, Karnataka). The guy on hearing this literally does a somersault, swivels and tells the others, “meine bola yeh log wahi se hain” (I told you these people are from there). I don’t wait around to hear more. Honestly after all these years of riding, I have heard a lot of this for it to still continue to evoke a reaction. On a side note – when I started riding, I was amongst four women in Bangalore and possibly a dozen women across India who owned and rode a bullet. So, the comments, glances, reactions, sometimes even disgust, for the most part, rolls off. And so, I start my bike and roll away.

Once back at the resort I decide to rest up a few hours and get some basic stuff done. I had already planned for it to be my laundry day. Post a hearty breakfast, I proceed to set up a “dhobi ghat”. I wash everything, including my riding pants and jacket cause I knew I had several hours of sunlight left and it would all be dry by nightfall. Once that was done, it was basic bike maintenance stuff. Clean, lube the chain, tighten some screws, change the TPMS battery, give my bike a once over etc. All done, and a shower later our cab comes to pick us up. Now while I was pottering around near my bike, I overhear some other bikers who were also staying at the same resort about places to see and I overhear “Junagarh fort”.

So once the cab was there I tell the ladies that perhaps we could go there if time permits. And we have enough time and so we go. “Junagarh fort”, which is colloquially called that, but is actually “Uparkot Fort”. Enroute we are treated to some Gujarati rocking music and a quick dabeli stop (that was sooo yum that we wolfed them down and washed it all down with some even more yummy lassi). Now this dabeli place possibly made the best dabeli’s I have ever tasted (I must confess though, I do not have too much experience in dabeli’s 😆).

Once we get to the fort, I realise just how incredible it is. It is a pleasant surprise since this wasn’t on our itinerary as a must-do place, which is really such a shame. India does a really shoddy job of marketing the incredible legacy we have strewn across this incredible country. The fort is huge, it is beautiful. The architecture is fantastic. And no history/architecture buff, should miss this. Now while researching this fort the three of us have no inkling of its grandeur or its scale. We thought an hour should about do to cover it. But once there we are stunned by the enormity of it. Inside are

Buddhist caves and intricately cut step wells and just so so much to see that if you are a history buff you will need an entire day to do it some level of justice. But given the paucity of time we had to make do with as much as possible. Once again V uses her charm (she has it by the spades and is able to get a lot done thanks to her superpower) and manages to get us a ‘toy train’ that takes visitors to each of the sites within this fort. Because of which we actually manage to cover a lot of the fort and the sights within it in about 90 minutes. We are ofcourse running and trying to cover as much as possible.

We then exit, treat ourselves to some fresh lime soda (the heat is ridiculous, and this is Jan mind you!) and then we set off to Somnath. On the ride here the driver goes, “madam aap jaanthe nahi hain ki hum kaun hain, sab log janthe hain hume yahan. Aapko VIP darshan karvaoonga, sab police log hume janthe hain. Bas humara gaadi andar taak chalega…” and so on and so forth (madam you don’t know who I am, everybody  knows me here, I will ensure you ladies get a VIP darshan, my vehicle will not be stopped and I can go right in). 

We want to be there in time for the 6.30pm aarti and we make it by about 7ish, and the aarti is still on.  We try our best to squeeze in, but the crowds are insane. Now the promised “VIP” entrance was nothing more than a side entrance – that anybody familiar with the temple would have known. But then who are we to bell the runaway ego of our “well connected and famous driver”! So, we jostle and try, but no go. We can’t really go in. D though musters the courage to go in. I extricate myself, I am unable to handle the jostling and wait outside till she is done with the darshan. Post this there is a light and sound show soon after the aarti. Now the “VIP darshan” was to include this too. However, by now the “VIP” tag was all but not there and the driver sheepishly tells us we need to get tickets for the show. We request him to get it for us. He runs off while we wait at the barricades. 

While we are standing here V’s incredible charm once again makes the impossible possible and there is this man who is waiting for his group to get there. He is holding tickets to the show. His group doesn’t get there in time and V’s charm propels him to give us those tickets. We saunter off and seat ourselves and we are treated to a light and sound show about the history of Somnath temple. It is a beautiful show, there are some nice effects. It is fun overall. Once done we skip a few barricades take a few pics and head back to our stay. Tired and done. Tomorrow is another early start (we bikers prefer early starts when the air is relatively cool and great for riding, before the sun pounds us). The plan for tomorrow is to ride to Porbander, to get D’s bike fixed and from there on to Dwarka. Lights out for today.

 

Ch 6 – Puncture biker bhaiya, pink faced mongoose and jyotrlings

Day 5 - 28^th Jan’25, Dwarka: We start the day early; post a round of chai and packed sandwiches we hit the road by 6.30 am. It is dark and a tad bit cold. I want to check my tyre pressure, the wobble has worsened and I am finding it difficult to take my hand away from the handlebar even to get a drink of water from my hydration bag. And so, we stop at a petrol pump just about 3kms from where we were staying. Nobody is at the petrol pump. It is way too early for these parts. I attempt to check the tyre pressure myself, I set the machine to the required tyre pressure, but then the pump is not on and the switch is locked in the cabin. Finally, we give up and decide to stop ahead. 

We find another bunk 8kms ahead. We roll in and wake up the attendant snoozing at the table in the office. He waddles over, starts the pump and checks the tyre pressure on all our bikes. He then declares D has a puncture. We fuel up and decide to find a puncture shop. About 10 kms ahead we find one. Request the person to check and he says there is no puncture. Finally we get started. By now we had taken off our gloves and helmets so many times that we are already exhausted! So we cross a bridge and pull up at a chai shop. We proceed to douse the fatigue with several cups of hot ginger chai and the sandwiches we had packed. Satiated and energized we start again. 

Enroute to Porbander my TPMS starts to ring the alarm. I know better than to ignore it. So, the first puncture shop I find, I stop and get it fixed. Thankfully I have tubeless tyres and in 15 minutes we are on our way. Though while we are at this tiny shack getting the puncture fixed just about the entire village gathers around us full of curious questions -  ranging from - where are we from, where are we going, who are going, who else is there, only three women riding alone yada yada. We satisfied their curiosity as best possible and hopefully inspired them a tad bit to look at women in a different light rather than as the “weaklings” we have been marketed to be (a lie told often enough becomes the truth – even to us – though somewhere at the back of our minds we know that we are not the dainty darlings patriarchy paints us to be).

Onwards to Porbandar. Enroute, we pass Madhavpur beach and we stop to take pics. There
are these really cute camels with little topi’s (hats) being led by their masters and we just had to take pics. We park our bikes and head down to the beach. we then see two guys hopping on to D’s bike. Seeing this we to quickly make it back to our parked bikes and end the photo session. After admonishing them we get out. I am in the lead, the road is arrow straight, smooth like silk. I open throttle and feel the purr of my engine (the only issue – that wobble is still there, and I just cannot let go of the handle for even a second). I am in biking heaven, thoroughly enjoying myself on this six laner when I see something emerge from the village on the right and cross the road. I stand up to get a better look and I see that it is a really long mongoose with a very pink face. And it runs off into the village on the left. Whatte sighting…whatte fun.

Once we hit Porbander I go straight to another puncture shop and the two ladies ride to the RE service center which is 2kms from where I had to stop. The guy there checks and declares the valve is weak. As he is changing the valve I get talking to him. He offers me chai, I gratefully accept and we chat. He says he too is a biker and rides a Himalayan. Valve fixed, pic taken, I thank him and head on to catch up with the the ladies at the RE service center. The bikes are almost ready. I get my chain adjusted too. And they comply very sweetly though being an RE service center they cannot take my bike inside. That done, they tell us a short route to get back on the highway and we hit the road once again.

We then get to Miyani bridge which is really picturesque and offers stunning view of the Bay of Harshad. We quickly stop to take some more pics and a chikki snack later it is back in the saddle.

Some hard riding for about 2 hours and then a quick chaas stop later, we hit the high revs. The roads are spectacular, zero traffic, 4 to 6 six lanes in most places, zero stray cattle, humans, dogs et all. Aaaahhhhhhh biking heaven.  If I could ride these roads every day I would! And thanks to these incredible roads we do good speeds and pull into Dwarka by 3ish and head straight for a kings meal – nope queen’s meal. From there to the stay. We quickly unsaddle, change, wash up and head on over to Dwarkadish temple. As luck would have it we are right in time for the aarti. Phones are not permitted inside and so we leave it at a “phone locker”, a shop that puts all the stuff into a plastic bag, gives us token and keep it safe till we return.

Once all of this is done and after a lovely darshan we quickly negotiate hard with an auto guy to take us to Nageshwar Jytorling which is about 20 kms from there. One agrees and we have a spectacular ride with the sun setting on the right and painting the skies incredible hues of purple and red and orange and black and a myriad other shades in between.

We get to Nageshwar Jyotirlinga right in time for the aarti once again which means that we get to see the actual jyotirlinga which is otherwise covered by a silver cover. Post the aarti we sit ourselves down and just soak in the aura of the place. There is a little stall inside and we check it out and end up picking up a few gifts and things like that. A few pics later, the return auto ride and some superb street food waits for us. Essentially there are carts on the road, and they set up tables and chairs right on the road. 

The stall we patronize is run by an old man who deftly turns out dishes quicker than any industrial belt could have! They menu is long, and the old man had a hundred hands all working in unison, literally, cause we were several patrons at the stall and we didn't have to wait too long. The ladies then decide to head on out for some shopping, and I decide to get back to the stay and chill and do some packing and it is back to slumberland for me. Tomorrow we ride to Dholavira. I am super excited.

Ch 7 – It is a foggy salty affair and a calf that thought it was a pup!

Day 6 - 29^th Jan’25, Dholavira: We plan to start at 6.00am. We set alarms, wake up at 4am, get ready, saddle up, all of it and then V tells us that she has work to do and to ride-on ahead. She will catch up. But both D and I are not ok with this. We don’t leave a rider behind. No matter what the reason. Some of us long-time bikers live by a code and one of those codes is – we leave no biker behind (but most new age bikers are just as oblivious to this biking code as they are of basic courtesy these days!). We tell her to finish her work and we wait. 

She is finally ready to leave at 8 and we start. Barely 10 minutes into the ride we encounter extremely dense fog. Visibility is less than 100 meters. My eyes start to smart, my glasses fog up, my visor fogs up. I can barely comprehend shapes ahead of me. I take a wrong turn. I am unable to see the ladies ahead of me. So I stop and call. They say no turns get back on the same road I had just got off. I tell them I am having issues seeing. They wait for me and once I rejoin them they put me in the center with V taking the lead and D sweeping. We ride for about an hour. Barely making distance. Slowly the fog begins to lift. We need fuel. 

We find a gas station. But it is to our right and there is divider. To get to the petrol pump we need to ride ahead take a U turn at an underpass. So we do just that. We cannot risk ignoring the few petrol stations this place has. While fueling up we once again check our tyre pressure. While we are doing all of this two buses filled with tourists pull in. The people in the buses spot us and gather around us. We probably look like aliens to them…and maybe we are…three women…on bikes… really far away from home…we are abnormal…and abnormal needs to be gawked at. Curiosity is at a different level.

They have a zillion questions – the very same ones we have been answering for most of the way– where we are from, are we only 3 ladies, we are riding these bikes all of this distance and all of that. Meanwhile one of them notices the badge on my bike saying “900” and he realizes that my bike is 900 cc. Now my bike is very unassuming. It is small and tiny. Looks can ofcourse be deceiving. Nobody usually glances twice at my bike, which is exactly the way I like it. Only those who know will know. So once this gentleman has noticed that he goes “yeah tho nauso cc ka hain, car se bhi zyada…aap isko chalake aye ho…kaise…” (this is 900 cc even more powerful than a car, you have ridden this so far, how do you do it…”. So, I smile sweetly and shrug…cause I am not entirely sure what I am supposed to say. (Feel free to drop me a line in the comments if you have thoughts on how best to answer these question...😜) He then says “kithne ki hain” (how much is it). And I say “pandra” (15). His jaw more or less drops to the floor… “aare yeh tho gaadi se bhi mehenga hain…” (this is more expensive than a car). I smile again. And by this point almost 100-150 people are standing all around watching us and gawking at us.  We quickly pull on our helmets and gloves and get out of there.

Enroute to Dholavira we stop for a quick lunch, meet some bikers from Mysore. We chat for a bit, get lunch and leave. Now this road we need to take is full of very deep rut marks and our bikes do the jiggy on this surface (it is quite a challenge to keep the balance). These ruts are caused by the many thousands of lorries plying salt from all the salt factories around us. There are mounds, heaps, hills and mountains of salt around us. The place looks like a scene straight out of an animation movie with black trucks plying all around carrying mounds of white stuff. Google then tells us to turn and we get off this road only to be stopped at a railway crossing with two trains crossing, making us wait for a good 15-20 minutes. 

Once cleared we encounter extremely bad roads – all under construction and I am having a really tough time handling my bike given the bad roads and the wobble that already exists on my bike. My speed slows down drastically to a sedate 60kmph. My bike is a classic by design. It is meant for smooth tarmac (it is called “Street” duh!). Not these kinds of surfaces. There are terrible ruts and potholes on this road and speed is impossible. The Himalayans, being Adv’s, fly through and the ladies get far ahead of me. They call to check if I am ok. I say yes and they slow down to let me catch up. We then see the board that says “Welcome to Harappa”…wow…I am breathing in historical air. I get goose bumps. It is impossible for me not to feel this deep feeling of awe and wonder. People have existed on this very land right from 3300BCE!

The entire stretch is under construction. I slow down considerably. While on this stretch V calls me. There are a bunch of boys on two motorcycles. They seem like they can cause harm. We are on high alert (like most women are most of the time!). V says, “are those boys troubling you” and I say “no, they seem harmless.” She says, “they have been riding along with me and now they are going front and back, I am not sure if we should expect trouble.” It is really unfortunate that as women, our antennae have to be up at all times sensing for trouble. We cannot really chill and let loose. We always need to be on our guard. So, she says, “let’s just stay on call”. Then I notice that one of them has made a call and a bit further another bike with three guys joins them. Now all this might be purely coincidental, but as women, we’d rather err on the side of caution. So, I tell V this (we are still on call) and we keep a look out. But after about 20 kms or so they drop off and we heave a huge sigh of relief, our shoulders visibly sag. I can feel it in the nape of my neck. The relief.  And then we get off the call. We then decide to pull up for some chai at a teeny little shack.

And then we hit this fantastic road. It is narrow. It is straight. And it is made of

silk! The sun is painting the sky this neon shade of orange and blue to our left as it calls it a day. While I am taking all of this in, we see a helmet on the road.

A helmet placed on the ground is an international, unofficial distress signal indicating the rider is in need of assistance. Mostly a medical emergency. It is meant to be visible to passing motorcyclists as a call for help. So we quickly pull to the right and get off and what do we see? These idiots have stopped to take in the sunset and get a bite to eat! Like really! And here I had all kinds of possible emergencies whizzing through my head! We heave a sigh of relief, exchange a few pleasantries, take a few pics and decide to carry on.

Dholavira. We are here. We stay here for 2 nights.

And then this really funny incident happens!

We have rolled in, taken off our riding gear and chilling when a little calf comes up to me with full curiosity. I pet the calf for a bit. Talk to it and all of that. And then I tell it to go away. The “shoo”, “shoo” is not helping “shoo” it away though! It just totally refuses to leave and keeps butting my hand to pet it. My doggie used to do this. I did not know calf’s too are little puppies in disguise! So, I get up and walk into my room. And this little fella climbs the stairs and comes right after me almost into the room. I quickly close the door. I do not want it to come in and “bless” the floor! I am pretty darn sure it is not “potty trained”! D is just outside on the phone. I call out to her and tell her can you please get rid of this fellow. She tries shooing it away too. But this fellow is obstinate. So this fellow is standing right outside the door and waiting. I cannot get out! And lo and behold it does bless our floor – but thankfully outside the room. D yells at the calf – but the calf cannot be bothered. I think this is really odd behavior for a calf. I wait inside the room and the calf waits outside the room. It is a standoff! 😂. I finally tell D to please call the resort guys. They come and the calf whose name we get to know now – Pintu - still refuses to leave. It takes 4 of them to shove, pull, carry and push the Pintu out of the gate. 20 minutes in and he comes right back in. This time the staff pushes Pintu out and closes the gates. With time to chill we eat a good dinner, the ladies go out to catch up with some of the bikers who were staying close by, but I call it a night.

Funny calf – but cute fellow. Like how can we look into their huge eyes and think anything else.

 

Ch 8 – Step back 5000 years, skating on a Triumph and the calf does a reappearance!

Day 7 - 30^th Jan’25, Dholavira: Today is my scheduled rest day. So I chill and wake up late. Our plan is to go to the Harappa Archeological site later in the day. The ladies, though, decide to go and do some off-roading. (Most Adv riders cannot have enough of “off-roading” 😊). I decide to stay back given that my bike is not built for such escapades. I resourcefully spend my time washing all my dirty laundry and put it out to dry under the piercing sun.

They get late, breakfast is almost closing, so I pack some for them. Once back, they get a quick bite and we leave for the Harappa site by about 11ish. Now this site is barely 2.5kms away from our resort and it is barely a 10-minute ride. So, we decide not to wear any gear and decide to enjoy the ride sans helmet, gloves boot et all. We need to traverse some narrow rural roads with little to no traffic. All this protective gear is good, no doubts, but it is very restrictive, that feeling of being unbridled, free, unfettered is fully lost with all the gear we don.

The sun is shining bright and we have no connectivity. We need to follow maps. I start my maps at the resort with the wi-fi there. The ladies tell me to lead since my map is working. Enroute little kids on the way back from school are waving at us. We wave back. There is a stream of students. Looks like school just closed for the day. I can see both V and D waving at the kids through my rear-view mirror.

The sun is beating down on us. The screen of the phone on my handle bar is barely visible. I need to pull to the side to shield the screen to get a better look at the maps. The kids are still there. The waving is still happening. We have covered about 1 km. Before pulling aside I put on my indicator, a turn is coming up. I gesture with my hand trying to tell the women following me that I need to stop because there is an upcoming turn. I slow down and I get to the extreme left. My leg is down; my right hand is shielding the display of my phone.

And then I lose time. 

The next thing I know I am astride on my fallen bike and the bike is skidding along on its side. When I get my senses back, I am unable to figure what is happening. I can see the bike is on its side. I try to figure how to stop the bike. The bike is on its side, the tyres are not in contact with the road, the brakes will not function. I don’t know how I am sitting on the side of my fallen bike. The velocity of the bike is still high. I have no gloves, no boots. (The thoughts are whizzing through my head. All of this is happening in fraction of seconds). Something inside my head screams at me - hold your hands and legs up. I do that. The road is village roads with very pronounced jelly stones sticking out. Rough. If I place any of my limbs down all the flesh will be shaved off to the bone, perhaps some bone too, without doubt. Finally, the momentum loses steam. My bike comes to a halt. I jump off. I look down. I don’t know what happened. I have covered about 10-15 meters from the place I had stopped. I look back. I see V fallen. And then I get it. She has hit me from the back. The force of the impact was so strong that my bike on its side – weighing in at 200+ kgs and me astride it was propelled for 10-15 meters.

V has taken a hit to the side of her head. She has fallen exactly at the place of impact. All that force was transferred to me. We are ofcourse shaken. D helps both of us pick up our bikes. She gets us water. We catch our breath. We are dazed. We are confused. While V has a bit of a concussion on the side of her head, I don’t have a single scratch on me – despite taking the entire impact. A little crowd gathers, all those schools kids and some adults from nearby homes. But no one steps forward to help, only gawk.

Recall my guardian angels – the ones who have been following me every second of this journey. These are some heavy-duty guys. They were not going to allow me to be hurt. Someone’s stupidity, arrogance, show-offing notwithstanding. Come what may. It literally is like a giant hand swooped down, picked me up and placed me in the center of my fallen bike. I am not kidding. I wish there was video footage of this. There was. But I never go to see it. Explanation will follow later.  The reason this happened was because V was distracted with all the waving. She missed my brake light, she missed my indicator, she missed my waving hand, she missed me pulling to the side of the road, she missed my leg down on the road. She was revving to show off in front of those little kids like several “newer” bikers often do. The price though is paid by someone else. 

We pick up the bikes. My bike shows me the tool sign. Means something is wrong. I hit the starter button; it springs to life. The light though does not go away. We, however, decide to continue with the plan. For my part I was too dazed and was functioning almost on auto-pilot. We continue to Harappa.

There we catch up with some of the other bikers from my club. We collectively engage the services of a guide. He takes us through the ancient ruins. I find it in me to compartmentalize. Like I often do. It is part of my work and my training. Now a deeply embedded skill.

Imagine stepping back 5000 years (umm do the math, just how many decades/centuries is that!). There are still shards of the original pottery around. The guide explains that this is the only site where they have found 3 towns – the upper, middle and lower town. There was a clear segregation of the gentry, the traders/middle class and the working class.

The planning of the city is absolutely stunning and an extremely humbling experience. Here we are with our fancy everything running out of water and 5000 years ago the intelligence with which they conserved water, the meticulous planning, the incredible attention to detail and I am forced to wonder…how did we regress? We are fancy no doubt, but simple intelligence, plain common sense is missing in the vast majority of us. How and where did we get the plot wrong? The Harappa civilization was built seventimes after being washed over six previous times till they abandoned it. 

Only 20% of the site has been dug up. 80% still remains to be excavated, understood and the mysteries unraveled. Apparently in 2005 ASI stopped with the excavation since they ran out of funds (we have no issues with funds for political rallies though). Since then, UNESCO has taken over the site as recently as 2021. Think about it. For 16 years ASI / India didn’t think it was necessary or important to continue excavations here. Nah, why be proud of our heritage, why be proud of who we are and where we have descended from. When the majority of the world were yet to discover fire – here we were building houses with attached baths and toilets! Such advancement. And today’s Indian still defecates in the open, spits and urinates anywhere. How did we go from that to this? 

There is a little museum which is not much by the International standards found in some of the other sites around the world. But the AV does a decent job of taking us through some of the associated history.

This done we head back. The ladies have plans to catch up later with the other bikers. Finding and consuming alcohol in a place where it is banned is considered “flex” and they are flexing. We ride back to our resort. Once there though my body starts to hurt. And I was beginning to get a headache. I tell them to carry on and I am going to sleep it off as best possible. With a little sleep I was hoping that I would be better.

I go in for a shower and my hands and legs begin to shake. Uncontrollably. I am alone at the resort. I cannot call out for help. I sit down. Take several deep breaths. Try and calm myself. Delayed onset of shock. The shower helps. I finish the shower and just sit and drink a lot of water, chaas and tea. The sugar helps calm me down. I get lunch and decide to let my body rest. I sleep it out. When I wake up the body pain is worse. I tell D and she gives me a Combiflam. I take that and then some more members of my club arrive.

I catch up with them and tell them what had happened. They come and take a look at my bike and one of them tells me, “I hope you thanked God. If it hadn’t happened the way it happened, you would have had a very high price to pay for somebody else’s lack of alertness. You were hit, no matter what, the mistake is always of the person who has hit and not the person who has got hit and you have been hit with such force, just looking at the scratch marks on this bike I can tell how severe the impact must have been. For a Triumph brake lever, crash gaud, sump guard and exhaust to be shaved off this much what must have been the impact! The force sent the bike skidding for such a long distance. And you are walking here without a scratch except for some body aches. Your God is not just looking over you. He carried you and placed you on top of that bike. It is nothing short of miracle. You shouldn’t have been alive and if you were you would’ve been in extreme pain had it not happened this way.” The incident is slowly sinking in. The enormity of it. We bikers do not wear protective gear thinking that it will protect our bones. We know it won't. We wear it to protect us from abrasion or road-rash as it is called. It is far more painful than broken bones and that is the one thing we fear the most. Had I not fallen the way I did, had my bike not taken the entire impact, had I been on a lesser “quality” of a bike I would have been history, if not in an extremely painful hell.

I have not had the forethought to take pictures of the incident. I didn’t think I needed to file an FIR. I was riding with “friends”. I was just extremely shaken but grateful for having walked out of it scathed. I wasn’t considering the costs of the repairs or what it will cost me. I expected to be treated with the decency we would expect out of even strangers, and then these were “friends”. So I try and put the incident out of my mind, as best possible. I will get back to Bangalore and figure things out as best possible.

The rest of the evening I mingle with my “biking family”. Almost all 20 of them are there. And then Pintu ji makes a reappearance! This time the fella has taken a shine to my bike – out of all the other 20+ bikes standing there! This time he is head-butting my bike. I quickly run to him and try to shoo him away. But once again he is being his stubborn self. So I drag him and put him out of the gate and close the gate.

Later into the evening the resort has arranged for a musical evening. A decently talented troupe is regaling us with some lovely folk songs.  I turn and once again Pintu-ji is back. This time he is just standing and staring at me, like he is waiting for me or like he is standing guard. I don’t know which or why (where is Dr. Do-little when you need him!). Several people go to him and pet him, but he refuses to budge or avert his gaze. It is pinned on me. I too go  upto him and pet him, bid him a good night. and retire. Tomorrow I get to ride on the very famous “Road-to-Heaven”.  The plan is to start at a very decent 8am.

 

Ch 9 – The "Road-To-Heaven" and a bike that did not let me down

Day 8 - 31^st Jan’25 Dhordo: I wake up by 6. Adequate time to freshen up, saddle up, get breakfast and be ready to roll without rushing it. The clock strikes 8. But both the ladies show no signs stirring. I hang around, doing nothing much, I am unsure of what the plan is. I go out and chat with the rest of the club members. They were like, “weren’t you guys supposed to leave by 8?’…I splay my hands…I don’t know what to tell…cause I don’t know. The rest of the “biking family” were to leave by 9. They do. We were to leave an hour before them. The other two ladies are still sleeping. I am still geared up, in my boots, riding pants et all (my frustration is building up. If I know the f***ing plan I too can chill). Over my riding years I have learnt to respect the biking code. Don’t leave anybody behind. But I am seriously contemplating breaking it and leaving.

By 10-11 I am really losing my cool. D too has geared up. We are sweltering in our gear, but the entire group (of 3!) is still not ready to leave. I am doing my best to keep my temper in check and relax. From 8 am I have been waiting, fully geared. 3 cups of chai, several deep breathing exercises later we are finally ready to roll at 12.15pm. I have been kept waiting for four hours. Today I learnt of my capacity for patience, I learnt of my maturity that helped me keep calm and a collected composure. Under the scorching blazing sun, I am forced to ride. I have no option. I had made a choice and I needed to see it through. I tell myself to stay calm and not let it interfere with enjoying what lies ahead. Compartmentalize.

Just a few kms from where we were staying we enter the “Road to heaven”. And God. Breathtaking vistas. White all around for as far as the eyes can see. The wind is cool, but the sun is blazing. The road is “makan” (butter smooth) and arrow straight. I bring down my pace. For four reasons – 1. The wobble was not making handling my bike easy, it is afterall a 900 cc monster; 2. The road was narrow and had quite a bit of traffic; 3. I was running low on fuel and I had to ride conservatively till I could find the next bunk; 4. Most of all, to soak it in. I didn’t want to rush through it. I wanted to enjoy every minute of it, I wanted to take it all in. This was the famous ‘road to heaven’. This was a rite-of-passage. Their tardiness wasn’t going to rob me of this experience. I ride slow. I wasn’t in a hurry to keep pace.

The experience I can tell you is beyond of surreal. If you just look into the horizon it is literally like you are riding straight into heaven. The road just goes on and on and there are these white plains as far as you can see. I ride for 30 kms at a slow sedate pace of 60kmph. And I find myself tearing up. I give my God praise for bringing me here, for allowing the opportunity and ability to do this. I can feel the love of my family and a few real friends envelop me, I know I am blessed beyond of perhaps what I am worthy. Many can only dream of doing what I am doing today. And I know enough to know that it is not me and my ability, but the love, prayers and my ever-present divine presence that guides me, that holds me, that suffuses my soul with love and very deep gratitude. I tear up for most of the way.

Once I exit this road I am now starting to really get hassled. There are no fuel pumps for kms on end.

The ladies have ridden way ahead. I catch no sight for them for this entire stretch. After almost an hour, V calls and tells me, “There is a fuel pump ahead and we have stopped here”, I said “no sweat I will see you there”. Finally, I find the pump and catch up with the ladies. We have another 30 odd kms to go to the venue of the BOBMC RM at Dhordo. And we are at Khavda where the fuel station is.

Enroute my “biking family” club mod calls asking where I am and they are ready to make a club entry and they will wait for me. I say I am just about 2 minutes away.

Side note: For such biking events every club makes a “grand entry”. Several clubs go to great lengths to do this often times dressing up in some very fancy costumes and riding. Clubs are also awarded for the best entry.

I reach the venue and join the club for the grand entry. V and D are not part of this club so they have parked to the side waiting for the club to make their entry. I don’t see them till I enter the gates and I wave them in, but they refuse. We make the entry. We ride around the main stage and then we ride to the tents. 

A short wait later I am assigned a tent, I take my bike and ride there. In about 5 minutes the Mod comes and says not this tent, and I need to get to another tent. I say ok and I get back into the saddle. And then my bike refuses to start. The electricals are functioning, it even sparks, but the engine doesn’t catch life. I get off, push my bike to the side. I get to my tent, tell two other club members about my predicament and they kindly help push my bike to my tent which is about 40-50 meters away. Once there I unsaddle, de-gear deciding that I will handle this later once I have had a chance to get some food and freshen up. Which is exactly what I proceed to do.

Some food later, feeling more rested, but anxious as hell about my bike (I need to ride back to Bangalore in two days – atleast that is the plan) I go the Motul store onsite. I tell them there is an issue with my bike. They say they should be able to help me. They tow the bike away promising to get started on it the first thing in the morning. That done, I then go and chill with the rest of the club members and crash for a good nights sleep. More than anything else the worry of my bike, the thought of will I be able to ride my bike back 2500 kms, will she be fixed in time exhausts me and I am out. It is freezing and I have trouble getting to sleep in the tent. I pull on every warm piece of clothing I have and mange to knock off.

 

Ch 10 – Mechs all the way

Day 9 - 1^st Feb’25, Dhordo: I wake up peacefully, get my coffee (I have a travel kettle, and I am able to make some good coffee), lounge around, get breakfast, chit-chat with the club members and then decide to head to the Motul stall. By now it is almost 12.30 pm and my bike has been left there completely unattended and untouched. So I decide to stay put till it gets done. Cause if it cannot be fixed then I need to figure how to get back home.

And so, I stay there at the stall, I only allow myself to go and get food and visit the rest room, but stay there the entire day. I am here to attend a biking events. There are events happening all around me. But I cannot witness any of it. The mechs keep working on my bike in bits and pieces. First they say they don’t have the tools with which to work on my bike and they have sent for it to be brought from Bhuj. 

Once the tools arrive, they have tons of other bikes coming in for small jobs like chain lubing, cleaning etc., and so they work on my bike intermittently. All along I keep waiting in the hot sun and bellowing dust. By nightfall they have opened the fuel filter, cleaned the fuel injectors etc. and my bike starts and they say I should not have a problem riding back. I take my bike and I am really happy I can ride back. Whew cannot explain the relief. Yay, yay, yay, I can ride back home.

I catch up with a fellow club member. He has plans to start the next morning at 9 am. I say great, I will ride with you and I start to pack to saddle up. I then have to move my bike and once again she refuses to start. I call the mech again he comes and takes my bike and gets it back by bout 10.30pm. Says she is fine now and you should not have an issue. I start and stop and start and stop my bike several times and everything seems to be fine. In the meanwhile a fellow club member tells me to take the bike out for a test ride, cover some good distance and if she fares well then she should be ok. I say great, I am humming a tune. I attend the rock concert that is underway and then call it a night. Before sleeping I have decided to take it out the next morning for a test ride.

 

Ch 11 – ‘Test it good’ and "Wander" along

Day 10 - 2^nd Feb’25, Dhordo: The day dawns and there is a dust storm underway. Everything gets covered with a

layer of sand in a matter of minutes. I get my breakfast and decide to leave to test my bike. The plan is to go to the nearest fuel station, which is about 30 kms away in Khavda (the same one we had fueled up on our way in) , fuel up and return.

I tell everyone, get geared and leave. The bike is doing fantastically well. I take her through the paces. I hold 60kmph for a few kms, then I open throttle and hold at 150 kmph and do everything else in the middle. The bike is doing beautifully. I am smiling to myself, enjoying the ride, my bike, the astounding vistas all around me. I fill up fuel and start back. On the way back I tell myself, I should stop and start it a few times, let’s test that too.

The road is really narrow, so I pull up at a slightly wider part of the road. Stop my bike, take my phone, take some pics and just chill for a bit. And then I start my bike and lo and behold, she refuses to start again. I tap the bike, the tank, I try a few other things, but no go. She refuses again. 

Now I know beyond doubt that the ride back is impossible, and I am left with no option but to figure how to get her and myself back to Bangalore. So I call my club members and one of them says that he will come. I call another club member and request him to please register my bike for shipping it from RM. He asks for details, I send him all of this while on the side of the road and in the middle of the sandstorm and under a blazing sun. I call the Motul mech and he says he is busy with another breakdown but will come in a bit and asks me to stay put.

In the meantime, a biker sees me and pulls. He asks what is wrong. I say “bike is refusing to start”. He tell me, “I have a puncture, so I can’t help, but don’t worry, I will call some of my club members who are behind me taking some pics.” And he proceeds to call someone, tells them that there is a lady biker stalled just ahead and that I need help. He says he needs to get back because of his puncture, before the tyre gets fully deflated. He tells me, “Sorry, I can’t wait with you, but they will be along soon”. I tell him. “Please don’t worry, thanks a ton for showing up” and he leaves. The biking code - When we see a biker stalled, we stop. We check if we can help. If there is anything we can do. We don’t just ride on and ignore a biker.

About 5 minutes post this conversation a huge Sardarji with a red turban, and the red flag of the “Wanderers” (Wanderers is another biking club) and “Captain” emblazoned on his bike rolls up, pulls up and asks me what is wrong. I tell him my bike is not starting. The only thing he says is “tow”, “tow”. No more words are exchanged. Soon three other Sardarji’s all with the “Wanderers” flag pull up. One of them says lets go. So I get astride and one of them gets to my right places his foot on my foot peddle and we are on the way. Two other Wanderers tail us.

This, like I said is a really narrow road with just about enough space for one truck. And the road is extremely busy with truckers. Some of them are dangerous since they don’t get off the road nor give  you way. So, every time a truck comes, one of the bikers goes ahead and starts to wave the truck aside and flashes his light. Some truckers give way and the person pushing my bike is able to stay on my right. Some truckers don’t and when they don’t the person pushing my bike falls to the back, I continue to coast, and get to the edge of the road as best possible. Once the truck passes he again comes back to push my bike whilst the biker ahead falls behind. So basically we ride in this formation with two bikes behind me. It is like this well coordinated dance. It must’ve been quite a sight to see the five of us. Four really huge Sardaji’s with their turbans and red flags waving in the wind, accompanying one not so large woman on a bright red bike in the middle of it all.

Once again, I was overwhelmed with emotions. Cause I know that the Universe was watching out for me. How else did these bikers just happen to be there and they were so adept at towing the bike (to the uninitiated, towing or being towed on a bike, is not easy. It takes skill to do either. Thankfully I had had an experience of being towed earlier, so knew what to do.)

We did this graceful dance for a good 15-20 kms. I felt the power and the protection of my higher power every second of the way. Whilst being towed, I was doing 50-60kmph. Like wow!

Once we arrive at the venue, I profusely thank these incredibly amazing bikers who God sent my way and they leave. Just another day for them! In the meanwhile, two of the members from my club had also ridden out to find me and they too accompany my towing party. Some members of my club then get started with helping me get back. ‘W’ checks train tickets, while ‘S’ checks flight tickets. All trains were waitlisted. But we manage to get flight tickets. S goes ahead and books my flight for me. This flight was from Ahmedabad. Now I knew how I was going to get back from Ahmedabad to Bangalore. But from Dhrodo to Ahmedabad? I had to solve this problem before the day was out since this was the last day of RM.

I head back, talk to a few guys, some of them are taking a cab from Dhordo to Ahmedabad. I request if I can join them and they say sure. So that is done. Next my bike. I speak to Safexpress and they say come in the evening and we will get it sorted. Nothing more to do now, but to get lunch and rest up a bit. Which is what I proceed to do.

Come about 5pm I go to the Safexpress counter, they charge 2k for packing. I say ok, pay up and wait there till my bike is packed, as best possible, given the conditions, before which I donate all the fuel
from my full tank (I had ridden barely 10 kms post topping the tank).

All done and now finally I can relax for a bit and enjoy the few hours left of the RM. Which is what I do (though the bands playing that night weren’t exactly what I would write home about!)  before calling it a night.

  

Ch 12 – Rolling vistas, rescue, waterfalling chai and unwelcome roommates!

Day 11 - 3^rd Feb’25, Ahmedabad: The cab is to arrive at 7.30 am. I packed everything the previous night. I am good to go. Hot coffee, some yum poha and packed jam sandwiches (which I lifted off the counter into a polythene bag for the ride for all four of us), later, I shuffle into a SUV that we had booked. I am traveling with bikers I just met. I don’t really know any of them. I only know that they ride with the Hyderabad chapter of the club I ride with.

We get talking, introduce ourselves and get along just fine. About 30 minutes into the ride the cabbie pulls up near a bunch of shops and says “you guys must try the mewa here”. We do. It is yum. We pack some to take back with us.

A few hours later, we see a bike without the front tyre and one biker standing near the bike. Biker’s code kicks in – always stop and help a fellow biker. We stop. We figure that 3 bikers had started – all 3 being from the Hyderabad chapter of my club. One of them had a puncture. Two of them have gone to get the puncture fixed whilst one waits near the bike. The sun is blazing. I know everybody will be hungry by now. So, I pull out the jam sandwiches I had the foresight to pack and helped assuage a modicum of hunger that had begun to build up for all of us.

We chill on the road talking and exchanging more biking stories. Almost half an hour later the two bikers return with a fixed tyre. It now needs to only be put back on the bike. 

Murphy’s law strikes – everything that goes wrong will go wrong. The nut does not go into the axle. We are unable to fix it. we need a workshop. The threads of the nut are worn down. And so ‘Vi’ (from the car) says he will ride the bike to the nearest puncture shop. The owner of the bike hops into the cab with us. The axle rod is just inserted – it is not secure. But Vi chances it. Enroute he overshoots the puncture guy on the left of the road. And now we have the 3^rd biker going after him! (What’s a story without some twists, except for the fact that we are living all of these twists LOL!!!!). Finally, Vi comes back with the “nutless axled bike” (:P). in this puncture shop we go “treasure hunting” to search for a nut that can fit. There is no way to re-thread it. the shop is small and lack the requisite tools. It has been to two hours here. We need to make it back in time since thee of them have flights in the evening back to Hyderabad from Ahmedabad. Mine is comfortably the next day.

So ‘Vi’ says let’s leave. And we do. We are hoping that the three of them can figure it from here. Enroute we stop for lunch which is worthy of a king. Kathiyawadi cuisine. The last meal we will have, this trip, in this part of India, and this particular cuisine. Once done and a few hours later, we pull up for chai. Now this chai is something else. You must watch the video to understand. I have seen parottas (in Kerala and Velankani) being thrown across streets, I have seen my fair share of experts in chai decanting…but this little guy was a different level.

We pull into Ahmedabad airport by 7ish. The entire way we have shared ride stories, laughed and had a great time. We bid adieu to each other. I now need to take another cab to meet the rest of my club members who have booked a room for me in the same facility they had booked for themselves.

So I get a cab. And I start talking to this cab guy. What strikes me is that this man didn’t have the ever omnipresent “google maps” on. This to me is strange, because apart from weird ancient me, most “New Gen” cannot operate without “Google maps” and refuse to use their grey matter instead! So when I see this, I quiz him on it. And, he says he is a “bank loan salesman” by day and in the nights he drives his cab. Stories like this are dime a dozen in India. It is both inspiring and saddening at the same time. When will we start penalizing people for having kids they cannot take care of like other countries where there is something called social service who will take away the child from the parents if they are unable to take care of them. When will this country evolve to a place where human life is respected and every child has a fair chance at life. This guy is clearly a hard worker – if he had a better start in life would he still need to do this? Would he still have to work literally 24 hours and sneak in a few hours of sleep to make ends meet?

He drives me through what little I get to see of Ahmedabad and it is beautiful. We drive by the road that says “Riverfront road”, and quiet honestly the place looks like some International city. It is fancy, well lit, park benches by the river…nice…really nice. The omnipresent filth, rubble, street hawkers, and milling crowds seem to be missing. It is beautiful with all the fancy lights lighting up buildings across the river. And I tell the cabbie, “bhaiya, yeh tho bahut sundar road hain.” (Brother, this is a very beautiful road). He says “madam, yeh sab jo aap dekh rahe ho, yeh sab naya city hain. Nadi ke iss paar amir log rehthe hain, aur yahan pe aap ko badde rasthe, badiya buildings, bade dukane, aur amir log mil jayega. Aur nadi ke uss taraf lower class ke log milenege. Wahan, chote ghar, chote sadake aise aap ko asani se patha chaljayega ki yahan jo log rehthen hain who utna ameer nahin hain.” (All of this is the new city. On this side of the river you will find the big broad roads, the fancy buildings, the big glitzy shops, and rich people. On the other side of the river you will find the lower classes of people. Small houses, small congested roads, and you will know  easily that the people who live here aren’t the well to do or wealthy folk.) I chat a little more to him about real estate and stuff before arriving at the place I am booked in for the night.

Once there I need to go up a very rickety lift (that looks like it will drop at any point in time). I get to the reception area. Some of my club members are there. I quickly poke my head into their room say a hi and make my way to my room. Being the only woman, the guys have booked me into a room by myself. 

I get there dump my stuff, take a quick shower, greet some more of my club members and call in for dinner. Which is when I realize that I am not alone in my room! I have to share my room, and foot the entire bill (the unfairness of it all!) with quite a lot of little roaches that were there long before me and will be there long after me! And so I had to leave the lights on through the night – to dissuade them from enjoying too much of my space. But must be something about Ahmedabad or perhaps it was just this place…they had no such compunction with or without lights, they established their complete dominion over this space that I was paying for and crawled everywhere…so as you can imagine…my sleep wasn’t the best!

 

Ch 13 – Touch down and it is home run.

Day 12 - 4^th Feb’25, Home💓💝: I wake up early and decide to head out for a spot of breakfast. None of the others seem to be up as yet. So I pack and head out. I find a quaint place and order something I hadn’t tried before. It is some puri with some dahi and sorta like a chat. It was yum and filling. I decide, heck I am in Ahmedabad, paan tho bantha hain. And so right next door I treat myself to some meetha paan. (The joys of being on a vacation! :D).

That done, I head back to the room. We need to check out by 12, our flight out is only at 4pm. We have tons of time to kill, so we hang around, post checking out, for a chai and then cab it to the Airport. We are obviously super early. We spend the time exploring the airport and the lounge. It I small airport but decently appointed. And for our luck the flight is delayed by about 40 minutes…so some more lounging around on rather uncomfortable chairs. (Seriously airports are missing out on some incredible revenue. They need to create sleep pods, maintain it well and people like me will for sure use their services. Wonder why they haven’t started this most obvious service so far, given the number of flights that are delayed!).

Finally we board the flight. The flight is quite empty and so post take off I get to a row that is vacant and get comfortable for the two hour flight back home. It is an uneventful flight. Touch down at Bangalore drawing the curtains on an Epic trip and even more epic ride.

With tons of memories, loads of learnings and experiences, soul happier, body aching, fingers chapping, face sun burned, several shades darker, sand still in my hair and an experience of a life time. I do regret the fact that I couldn’t complete the ride as originally intended – where I was I ride back to Bangalore. But I am extremely grateful to my protector and my Universe for giving me for not just giving me this incredible opportunity to do things that a lot of people – be it men or women balk at, but for having brought me back home without so much a scratch. For giving me the ability, the guts, the gumption, the physical fitness, the mental acuity, the company, to do all of this.

It is sign off time till my next adventure that moves me enough to want to pen it down.

(Footnote – once I was back in Bangalore my bike spent close to a month at the Mech’s. V’s bike was equipped with a dash cam. Most new-age dash cams “freeze” the video on impact. Unless this video is deleted manually this video stays. I was told this video wasn’t available. I didn't receive so much as even a genuine apology till the date of this publishing. My bike still bears the scars. I made a conscious decision to leave it there. To remind me that people, even if we thought they are our "friends" will show their true colours only when push comes to shove. My bike and I continue to fly. We continue to explore.)

P.S: Drop me a line on possible responses to questions such as "aap ne yeh gaadi chalaya" (you ride this bike), "ladki hoke kaise karthe ho..." (how do you ride being a woman..." etc etc 😂...let's have some fun here!

Acknowledgments: 

• Most pics (not taken on my action camera or my phone) were courtesy D. Grateful for these captures and memories. 
• The fantastic planning and attention to detail in terms of routes and stays were courtesy both D and V. Grateful for their time and making this such an epic ride. 
• Thank you to the guys who helped me in a zillion different ways (you know who you are) right from my mech bhai, Wanderers, the guys who helped me with flight/hotel bookings, the guys who were ok to share the cab with me (the list is way too long). Grateful for your kindness and your generosity of spirit. It is men like you that make it easier for us to achieve some of the things we do. We need more like you to make this world a better place.