Disclaimer: these following rants are a not a work of fiction, it does not contain a long list of hyperboles. You could perhaps blame it on the person writing it, you see he isn't a wanderer, he is just a commuter. He commutes, with a purpose, and at times without one.

(PART I : Mumbai to Chennai)

Why do you ride? A question that everyone seems to be concerned about. A question that at times yield answers which are deep and profound, at times just..err shallow! The response to it is then followed by a quick categorisation of what they feel you are: Rider, Racer, Stunter, Biker, Tourist, Mad man, Rich brat, Business man, Terrorist the list just gets funnier. But No sir! Am just a commuter. I commute from Point A to Point B, and always with a reason. None of my travel are without reasons(Hang on before you rebel) So all of my bike rides are for one reason or other. Now considering that some wise man once said "Everything happens for a reason", it leads you to a very interesting conclusion. Everything happens for a reason, and this reason, more often than not is good enough to ride. So I honour the demands of these reasons, and commute.

Destination Chennai. Reason: It's the wedding of a very close friend. People classify him as a biker too, but I've never seen him calling himself one, and neither I have seen him donning that tee shirt.

If you've been following me on facebook, you perhaps know that there are always three distinct sections in my rides.

1. Original Plan 
2. The improvised Original Plan 
3. The Plan that was executed

The Original Plan:

Like I said before, the original plan is to head to Chennai. Which also means that you fire up your machine and just go straight on NH4. My arch nemesis, NH4. A part of the Golden quadilateral. The answer to all those who complain that India does not have good roads. You may wonder why 'Good roads' are branded as thy nemesis. Well! Its so good that it ends up being boring at times.

A road so boring shouldn't feature  in my plan. So obviously I have to take a slight detour. The plan is to reach Chennai, via Kanyakumari and Rameshwaram. Kanyakumari, also demands that I should perhaps touch Kerela, which suggests I should visit my home town Mangalore, which is a bit ahead of Goa, which is NH17! Now since am doing the coast line, might as well plan the return journey like that. See, reasons, one after another and the plan is made. I would ride the coast line of India, visit Chennai, visit Hyderabad and get back home. Orissa and NE would be a part of the other half of India ride.

The Machine:

The Kawasaki Ninja 650R or Spark as I call it (More on why, sometime else) My friends, the left cheek (LC) and the right cheek (RC) don't trust on reviews, they need to experience things first hand. So obviously, another reason to know how potent is this 'tourer' in Indian conditions. 

The Improvised Original Plan.

Since I have a deadline that I should be in chennai by 13th - 14th, the plan had to be weaved accordingly. There is one challenge though, the project that I've been working on which was scheduled to go live on 24th October has hit a major roadblock. From the looks of it, the project won't go live even by 14th November. So now I have to quickly decide on what the plan is. 14th is a Monday, so that leaves me a good weekend to reach Chennai, and a day or two to come back.

Uggh! Adjustments, the new plan. Head to Chennai on 11/11/2011, halt at Bangalore on 11th night and tag along with a fellow friend from Bangalore who would accompany me on another 650R to chennai.  This is probably the size zero version of the original plan. But don't lose hope, there's always the Part C. The Plan that actually happened.

11/11/11 - Too many ones. One after another. Such was the day. Woke up with a smile as I knew that a night before, my caring mom had washed my jacket. Perfect!

Sadly, things took an ugly turn,  as I realised that along with it, she also washed my iPod classic. It looked like the old school water games that we had. Darn! Even before the ride began, am handicapped. My trusted company in this solo journey decides to die on me even before the ride. You need to be an audio-holic to understand how it feels to lose your handpicked collection of choicest music and the device. Things can't get any worse from here.

Wrong.

I open my drawer, only to realize that my riding glasses are missing. These are uber gay aviators which house powered lenses to help me see a 6/6. Gay they might look, but they do their job, and that they do bloody well. So brilliant, some comfort lost on the hearing side, some comfort lost on the eyesight, I wonder what's next. Ah! Should be my mind!

And mind it is. My GPS that helps cuts down on the mental hassles of need for finding directions and other POIs in scary places is in my tail bag, which is with a friend who is away on a office trip. So I don't have my bag and my GPS either! Perhaps that's where my glasses are too. Atleast they are together, if not with me. Sigh!

So its with these mixed thoughts of anger and disgust that I start the ride... I know for a fact that if there is something that can erase all that pain and suffering then it is this thing that I love most. Biking.

My blackberry doubles up as the mp3 player, the cheap dell xcd 35 running on a hacked android version doubles up as my GPS navigator. The rugged backpack double up as my tail bag, and a bungee here, a bungee there and the bungee net on top and am set to roll.

I leave home and am already 4 hours delayed. So much for sticking to the improvised plan. Worry not, my friends LC and RC have the close company of the 650 cubic centimeters, and I should be able to catch up (or so I thought). 70KMs away from home, the pit-stop, Panvel Mc'Donalds. It perhaps is some kind of ritual to stop there every time anyone ventures into that part of the world. I decide to pull over too, like I've always done. It is here that I learn my first Ninja lesson. Lesson#1 - If you can't see it, you are in trouble. I get in, see a LOT of people, and avoid ordering anything,. You see, I am paranoid about the bike, and so I now have to sacrifice the lovely air conditioning and the lovely vistas of the flora and fauna, and the occasional eyesore who thinks she is hot, but she is not. So I step out, with a rumbling stomach, disinterested, only to ensure that I have my eyes on the bike. I could see that Ronald Mc'Donalds frowning that day, nobody wanted to sit with him. They were more interested in having a closer look at the green machine. Some brave men showed signs of wanting to have rest their rear on to the saddle. They were obviously shooed away using some polite gestures and excercising some vocal 'chords'.  A countless questions answered, and after allowing kids who wanted a pic with the bike, and some other people who behaved like kids, it was time to move on. Interestingly, some people perhaps don't\can't trust what they see, and hence want to touch and feel everything. I hope they soon get to meet Pamela Anderson or Sunny Leone and her fleet of body guards.

So anyway, I shop for a few Five stars (how else can you get a quick boost of burnable calories), a couple of bottles of water, and also fill fuel for the first time. Lesson#2 - Doing the same thing repetitively, not only makes you efficient, but also makes your wallet go lighter. In this context, filling fuel was the task.

Considering that it's a Friday morning, the roads should be empty, but something somewhere was wrong. There was traffic everywhere, my iPod deprived ears couldn't distinguish between the growls of my tummy and the growls of the bike, and the buzz of the other vehicles. About 250KMs in the trip, and the hunger takes over all the senses, and I stopped to grab a bite. Am now near Shirval, and so far my average speed has been just over 60kmph. Traffic rocks. Actually it does, considering that the bike is still 100KM short of the factory recommended running in procedure (1600KMs of riding sane). A snack, a cup of tea, and lots of water later, my mind is now sane to crunch some numbers. Lucky me I grin to myself. For those who know this stretch, at around 100KMs from this place, you will see the magnificent Kolhapur-Belgaum/Bangalore stretch. A stretch so straight and wonderful, that its boring. But then this is what the situation demands, a stretch where I can make up for lost time. And so I grin. From here on it would get better. I fill up the tank again and resume riding. 90 KMS later, I see the traffic getting uglier.

With the phone which was doubling up as the mp3 player and belting out some real kick arse numbers, who worries about the traffic. The 650 with its 200KGs might not be the most nimble, but its one of the most comfortable in such situation. Having rehearsed for this situation during my office trips, am well used to the adequate power coming early in the torque band. Navigating isn't really a problem. A left here, a right there, a tight squeeze here and there and am surprising many.  About 8 more kilometres ahead,  I see smoke! Well not from the bike but from the road ahead. "May be its a crash" Sigh! This isn't a sight you would want to see especially given the fact that the sight would haunt you for the rest of the journey, and in this journey am anyway a bit stressed. Darn! I know I don't have the luxury of seeing a GPS navigator guiding me through the treacherous bangalore traffic prone routes and the blood spill, the mutilated bodies and sight of mangled metal cages are the last things I want to allow haunt myself with.

As I continue to navigate the machine through this clutter and closer to the source of smoke, I see a horizon of cars. That's it free road! Err, not really!

You see the cars had stopped there as 'people' had not allowed them to go beyond. A few meters ahead there was a huge pile up of burning tyres and tree trunks and a huge mob shouting, ranting on the roads with sugarcanes in their hands.

Time for the phone to switch from the "I love music mode" to "I need help mode" no more music, no more catalysts to aid adrenaline.

I park the bike to a safe spot, walk about to the mob. I have my helmet on, and all the contraption that's supposed to save me if I spill.  Am not sure if these are mob proof though! I try to find what the problem is, and chalk and action plan.

The problem is the lack of good prices for the sugarcane produce in maharashtra by the maharshtra government. Am told that in Karnataka, the farmers get 3200rs as against 2400rs offered here. So apart from politics, power, Powar, money and whole list of other things that they can hate, they hate Karnataka too!

The risk assessor in me sees that there are too many variables that could go wrong. So I head back. I go back 10KMs to find the alternate route that connects me to Sangli via Islampur imagining on how with another bike I would have rode through the fire, shot the missiles on the crowd, in short just rode right through them.  But this is a bigger bike, I need to take care, and so the slight detour. No problem. A slight de tour. Wrong!

The internal roads are also blocked out. Am told that the only roads that are open are the roads that go back to Mumbai from here! "There's no way am going back"

I speak to this smaller mob, tell them my problem (That am a delivery boy, and I need to reach Chennai which is far far away with this bike or I'd have to say goodbye to my job!) They move out a tyre and warn me that there are more such villages which have blocked the roads ahead. Blessed with this story, I ride ahead. Confident. Next encounter, same story, more convincing, reference to the past blockade and am allowed. Next turn, again some more burning tyres, angry rants and mob. Am wondering if I am riding in circles! Given my sense of direction, it could be true. So I flip out the other phone, use this opportunity to update people back at home and find my whereabouts and the route ahead. Sadly, I am on the 'right' route.

I wait for a while, talk to the localites and I realize that the more I go ahead, the more I would get stuck. So I head back to NH4. This time with a new plan. Proceed to NH17. Another detour, and some more lies to tell to the same people. I ride back to NH4, take the diversion for Malkapur, from there either head to Kolhapur or head to NH17. The later would mean a HUGE detour which is made even tougher by  a tempting lazy place called Goa.

A few KMs later, and I see the same episode. Luckily the same stories still work. Exactly the same stories. I cross 3 road blocks and people warn that there are many more ahead and I go back to NH4.

Luckily I have bypassed the mob at the start as I've rode around them and am now at Yelur. I am told by the not so fortunate cage drivers that I have been able to bypass 2 of the big bandhs on the main NH4. They say "This is the last one now".

I take stock of the situation, and ride close to the mob, tell them my story, but unlike the ones at the internal routes, these have many leaders! I can't convince all of them.

So I park the bike catch up with the other unfortunate ones, update my folks my whereabouts and in the process dilute the whole episode into a safer version. Safer for all three of us. Them, me and the next ride whenever it happens. I try finding an alternate off roading route (which I still think on a smaller bike I could have pulled off) but alas Lesson#3 Big Bikes are BIG.

After an hour or so, some kind chaps whom I tried explaining earlier walk up to me and ask me about my plans. I load the story with a lot of drama, tell them on how it is important for me to reach to Chennai, and from whatever money I am making from this assignment, I cannot afford the delay to stay back at a hotel here. They apologize for the inconvenience but that's all they can do. They go back and join the mob. After some time, the mob allows all the bikes to go ahead. Lesson#3 repeat, in a good way though. Am fortunate that I am still technically on a bike. I wave good bye to the chaps who probably influenced for this favorable decision. I speed up. All this has meant that I am now on a huge backlog. I can't reach Bangalore before 1 AM. I message my friend from Bangalore about the same. Alas! I was perhaps too early. There's another bandh ahead. Unfortunately, the same story might not work here as this is also a big bandh. Stuck again.

I wait for some more time, I have another problem. All this detouring, has made me lose enough fuel. I ride closer to the mob, this one is not half as bit friendly. They assume I am trying to run through and make a huge barricade. I take the bike back and tell them my story. This time with a slight twist. You see, I am a student, and am doing this 'risky' job for my education in Mumbai. Doesn't work.

They are enraged to think rationally\emotionally. They began chanting slangs and beating the cane on the road. I push the bike back, turn the keys off and keep it in my pocket. Strangely, even the so called angry men were interested in knowing the FAQs that came when I bought the bike. What's the price, what's the mileage, what do I do, what's the top speed and so on. I answer them, hoping they could influence the mob to allow me to pass through.  After waiting patiently and answering perhaps a million questions, err, I mean answer the same questions for a million times, some of them allow me to proceed. They advise me to hurry up. I acknowledge, I fire the bike, and as they allow a small passage, the others rebel. They fight amongst themselves, one of them hits me on the head with the Sugar Cane, the other tries to pull my bungied bag off. But I had more friends than the ones angry and somehow I cross the barricade.  I zoom a bit ahead, stop the bike, inspect the damage, thankfully there's none except for a bungee net being slit. I zoom ahead.

Thankfully no more blocades, no more bandh. Except for the petrol bunks which were bandh. "How would the get their supplies" I ponder, am slowly in that sulking mode where I am beginning to assume that this ride itself is jinxed. Luckily I see a bunk which is open and ensure that the Ninja is now full. Full to take me a few more hundred KMs ahead. This has been one of the most eventful rides so far. A few KMs and a few more, and before I realize I see the grand Welcome to Karnataka toll booth with the setting sun. I stop over to catch a cup of tea and some biscuits, and ofcourse the back up five stars. Update my whereabouts to my family, and soon proceed for Hubli. The stretch is almost a cake walk. I reach Hubli in no time but its turning dark. Having missed my meal, I think I should rather take a break for my eyes to be able to adjust to this new aperture. Lesson#4 A big bike doesn't necessarily mean Big Lights!

I halt at a Dhaaba.Why? Because it symbolizes the values of National Integrity of our great nation. While Punjab might be in one corner of India, Punjab-da-dhaaba clearly isn't. Go to the farthest road connected boundaries of India, and if not a cellphone tower, you would atleast find one Punjab-da-dhaaba! 

I use the break to replenish me of much needed Carbohydrates, and ofcourse the loads of artery lubing ghee and butter. A glass of lassi quickly disappeared, but questions didn't. I answered the (same set of) questions again, and now it was time to go. 

The Ninja Headlights are very similar to 'Punjab-da-dhaaba' they are everywhere. They illuminate the road ahead well, but it has a weird beam type. Scientifically termed as the 'Non Existent' type.

So you are good to go as long as there is no oncoming glare. With the glare, you are as equipped as a certain Kapoor with acting. Rest assured the progressive braking won't let you take a lot of risks, unless ofcourse intelligence to you is what dialogues is to that Kapoor. But I've been smart , I've practised this a lot. Both with this bike and the Yamaha R15. The later though challenged in the lighting department, makes up for it in its braking prowess. Unfortunately (like it has been all day along) I would soon hit the patch where NH4 becomes a bit tricky and worse, it becomes single lane route. 

The night grows darker, but the bike keeps going. Well it won't for long as Spark is thirsty. I enter a fuel bunk, but its closed, as I try to get out I see another man pushing the bike to this pump. He says that the next pump is 60KMs ahead which am not sure if my bike could do. This leaves me with no option but to help this man in waking up the pump attendants. What follows is the barbaric amount of honks, lot of banging the door, windows and anything that can make a ruckus

Then finally went to the extreme by flashing the headlamps into the office where the attendants were peacefully sleeping. The combination of all this physiological warfare pays off. The attendant wakes up. The usually polite me practise my excuses in my mind, just in case he is angry. Didn't need them though. You see the other chap told him that am an inspector. An inspector with a Ninja. Right! 

Sadly the new found authority doesn't entitle me for free fuel, and so I pay him and proceed. The night grows darker, but the bike keeps going. Well it won't for long as Spark is thirsty. I enter a fuel bunk... What you think you've read this line before? Imagine me! Touring on this bike is like a grand visit from one fuel pump to another. At this rate I could have reviewed fuel pumps as well! Am now nearing Bangalore. The sleepy me has ensured that I won't notice the bypass for Nice, but lucky for me I see a fuel pump, and though I don't need fuel (atleast not yet) I stop there. The attendants here are enjoying some local radio channel and hence awake. I grab this opportunity to strike a conversation, clean my face and politely ask for a quick power nap here. They oblige. The vitals: the bike keys, camera, papers, wallet, a small screwdriver, and level 6 Karate Lessons by my side I take a nap..... Ok I lied! No karate lessons yet except for may be 'Wax on - Wax off' if that counts. 

7 minutes of nice power nap. Strangely my phone showed to be of some 45 minutes. Weird. 

I refuel the bike to whatever little it needs, and honour their request to click themselves with the bike. 

The night grows darker, but the bike keeps going. Well it won't for long. Hey! Its just the sleep! Having not slept the earlier day, my body clock is forcing a full shut down. Lesson#5 A small mistake on a small bike could be lethal, I small mistake on a big bike IS lethal. Not wanting to take chances, I try and sleep for a bit near a junction. The whizzing trucks sings its sweet lullaby. I proceed, whizz past them almost like giving payback! A few miles more and am in Bangalore. All this while another friend from Pune who recently shifted to Bangalore is constantly keeping a tab on my whereabouts, and now wants me to come to the other end of this confusing city to his home. To make it worse, Bangalore is on it foggy worst, I don't have the GPS, I can't make it. Atleast not with this sleep. I scout for a breakfast point, but almost everything is closed. Luckily just as I convince myself that I will give up and proceed to chennai, my friend calls. He asks me if that spec he sees on Google Latitude is indeed me. "Yes" I reply, he asks me to navigate to some railway station. I do. And a few minutes later, so does he. We meet up. He guides me to his home. I dump the luggage there, and we proceed for some much needed breakfast. 

Time to sleep for another 6hours. This too my phone would wrongly calculate as 12 hours. You see I had my phones timer set to 6 hours, but under the pillow its voice is as audible as our honourable PM! 

I finally wake up after 12 hours of slumber. This time though am fully charged up! Enough to ride back to home too! But I am a commuter, I have a delivery to make. My friend warns me of potential rain enroute, and so I wrap everything important in the improvised water proofing solution of Garbage bags. I finally leave Bangalore at 8PM. Thoroughly warned about the very strict speeding rules and expensive fuel. I keep my speed at 80 which is cruising on second gear for the 650 and join the huge chain of metal cages and bikes riding in that constant speed. A few KMs of that assembly line kind of constant speed ends at a toll booth. 

A toll booth which probably symbolises that window into another reality. Another dimension. Another parallel universe. Remember the old cartoons which always mentioned this parallel world, at times loony, at times scary. Well its here. Right near Hospet. Its the toll booth that separates Karnataka from Tamil Nadu. You see, right upto this side of the toll booth you have everything in order, people driving sensibly, maintain lanes, maintain speed, but as soon as they cross over they behave as if they've been possessed. The very sane people go insane. You see, Tamil Nadu does not have speed limits. I am sorry, it does not have the infrastructure to impose stringent checks on speed limits like Bengaluru has. Ironically it has some of the best tarmac stretches in India. No wonder the transformation. Genetically am susceptible to this risk too. But I was under an antidote of sorts. Hunger. I've been told that somewhere here are the good eateries. I cannot miss them am told. Not that they are too good, but then enroute to Chennai I won't find a lot of options. Atleast not by the time I would reach.

So I pull over the familiar sight of McDonalds. Another Ronald who would envy the Green machine. I have some 'healthy' breakfast, err dinner. The best part of the halt here is that people just assume that you are heading to the racetrack. You see, the place is close to Sriperembudur. One of the rare places in India which has the aberrations called as 'race tracks'

Explaining them is futile, you see they have their own national language and dialects. Tamindi and Taminglish. Both of which I wouldn't understand. 

So I behave like ones with special needs, gesture, words with some success. I head to Chennai, I have to meet up Anup who flew to Chennai. 10KMs away from the place, I stop for some tea. Never in my life have I offended anyone as much as the Kaapee (Coffee) stall owner. He was outright furious when I enquired if he had tea. Wonly Kaapee, he said shaking his head in disgust. Thankfully his attention shifted to the Ninja, and he cooled down in a jiffy.

Coffee is what you need in a cold evening like that, I battle the bad patches of Chennai roads and finally reach the guesthouse......

.....TO BE CONTINUED in Part 2 (The Return trip)