What is Love?

What is Love?

This is the age old question that has been discussed, debated and done to death (sorry for the alliteration).  These are a few personal thoughts – consider this as more of a ramble of an idle mind travelling back home in a crowded local train.

Love is loving yourself enough first to be able to love someone else.

Love is in the sparkle in those eyes as they gaze at you (when they do).

Love is the grateful feeling on seeing the first rays of a rising sun.

Love is in the slow smile that exerts its power over you.

Love is being able to let go when needed.

Love is in the heartache you feel after an argument with someone special.

Love is in the blind trust you bestow upon those few people.

Love is when you see your sleeping child and knowing that she or he is your flesh and blood.

Love is something that cannot be controlled or guided, it just is.

Love can be calm or tempestuous.

Love is in the little things.

Love is in the small hand that slips into yours when scared or sad.

Love can make you restless or settled and sometimes even both at once.

Love usually shines through your actions and not your words.

Love is taking someone and making them part of you, for life and even beyond.

Love is a tight hug when you need it and just saying "I'm there for you."

Love starts slow but holds strong. True love does not fade.

Love is pure, undemanding and does not expect.

Love cannot be seen, it can only be felt.

Love is quick to forgive and does not hold grudges.

Love is not only romantic; there are different kinds and each one is beautiful.

Love is acceptance, of the good, the bad and the ugly.

Love can change you for the better, if you let it.

Love is always positive; it can make you kinder and nicer than you were.

Love is something larger than life, something bigger than you and me.

Am I even close to being someone who imbibes all of what I have listed above? Hell, no! Do I want to someday? Oh yes! 

Having said that, it's not easy to be objective in love for most of us, and least of all, me. We can only try and hope to get there, eventually.

Thoughts welcome….

Book Review: The Vikramaditya Veergatha

Book Review: The Vikramaditya Veergatha by Shatrujeet Nath (Book 1: The Guardians of the Halahala, Book 2: The Conspiracy at Meru, Book 3: The Vengeance of Indra)

The Game of Thrones TV series has gone on to become one of the largest runaway successes of our times with a viewership that could rival or maybe even beat any other series. Having said that, the series originated from the books written by George R. R. Martin and any book lover worth his or her salt would swear that the books are so much better!

And with that seemingly random fact, let me get to the topic on hand, my take on the Vikramaditya Veergatha by Shatrujeet Nath. Mythological fantasy fiction as a genre has evolved tremendously in India over the last few years and many authors have dabbled in it some to resounding success and others who were way in over their heads. When I first heard the name “The Guardians of Halahala”, I didn’t know what exactly to expect and while the genre is one of my favourites after pure fantasy, I did not pick it up until a chance found me in the possession of the first 3 books of the series.

Having read a large number of books of this genre, I am sure that making your presence felt and standing out is a herculean task for any author but Shatrujeet from the very first book has raised the bar and how. I had decided that I would review each book of the series as I finished it but the first book flowed into the second and the second into the third so seamlessly that I found myself reading through them at breakneck speed and I write this after having read all three. As an aside, my wife started with The Guardians of Halahala after I was done with it and overtook me while reading The Vengeance of Indra – having quietly taking it away when I was only a quarter through it!

The story starts with Lord Shiva entrusting the dagger of Veeshada to Samrat Vikramaditya for safekeeping knowing him to be an upholder of all that is right and a worthy opponent to the best of adversaries. This dagger contains the leftover of the deadly Halahala poison that was revealed as a by-product of the churning of the ocean by the Devas and Asuras, rivals collaborating to find the much sought after Amruta. Both parties have been striving to get hold of the dagger and Shiva thought that Vikrama would be the ideal candidate to keep it away and foil any attempts by them to wrest it away. The books take us through the numerous conflicts Vikrama and his trusted aides have to grapple with in carrying out Lord Shiva’s charge.

The author starts weaving together a tight storyline from the first book itself and the plot, though complex, keeps you hooked from start to end. Samrat Vikramaditya (adapted from the Vikram Betaal story) of Avanti and his 9 councillors form the mainstay of this grand tale and every other sub-plot intermingles with the main story. The Samrat rules over Sindhuvarta, which comprises of many other nations, each with their individual ruler who is allied with Avanti, Vikrama’s own kingdom. Along with the humans which also include the Huna and Saka tribes, there are Devas, Asuras, Yakshas, Danavas, Pisachas, Garudas etc playing an equal and important role in the story. With so many characters, there is bound to be a lot of confusion and a general dilution of the plot. But this is where Shatrujeet surprises: each character in the books has been carefully etched and given enough background to ensure that their role in the proceedings is clear to the reader.

The level of detail amazes in many small but important ways; the Hunas and Sakas, both of which are imaginary races who are sworn enemies of the kingdoms of Sindhuvarta have been given their own language, which is as distinct from anything than I’ve ever read before. The physical descriptions of the multitude of characters are detailed so well that I could see each and every one of these in my mind’s eye with clarity. The same level of detail is also found in outlining the lives of different kinds of people described in the books including soldiers, tradesmen, palace attendants, merchants, nomadic tribes of the desert etc not forgetting the Devas, Asuras and Yakshas themselves.

There is a smooth intermingling of characters most of us are familiar with from our own knowledge of Indian mythology and our epics and while I have never observed any connection between them prior to reading these books, I found the interplay more acceptable and craftily executed to give us a masterpiece of a story, one that can hold its own against any of the other giants we have read and love. Many of the principal characters are ones that we know such as Samrat Vikaramaditya himself, the lord of the Devas – Indra, Hiranyaksha and Holika – the sibling consorts ruling the Asuras, Brihaspati, Narada, Shukracharya, Kubera the Yaksha, Betaala of the Underworld and a few others I might have missed out. These are ably supplemented by many other characters created by the author including the 9 councillors of Vikrama’s court, each of them with a definitive character that shapes the narrative ahead, the various kings who are allied with Avanti or in a few cases are against it and the Devas and Asuras who form part of the Indra’s and Hiranyaksha’s kingdoms respectively.

Shatrujeet has moved from the traditional definition of good and bad when it comes to the Devas and Asuras and given them both a common cause – getting the dagger of Veeshada for themselves so that they can defeat the other and are willing to go to any heights, right or wrong, to get hold of it. Given that nothing is truly black or white and there are a lot of varying shades of gray in between, this concept works really well in this day and world. The description of Indra, Holika and Hiranyaksha is a thing of beauty and challenges any other impressions you may have had of them previously. The same is true for many other characters but you will need to read the books to find out for yourselves.

As I have already mentioned before, the story is larger than life and each and every event in the book fits perfectly in place in this mammoth tapestry that Shatrujeet has woven. There was obviously a reason I’d mentioned the Game of Thrones books right at the start of my review and just like in it, the Veergatha too has many different strands running through it each having its own place and each coming back to seamlessly integrate into the main plot and hitting home hard. Not one place did I get the feeling of something being in excess or not required to keep the story going. I cannot fathom the amount of research and tracking that must have been required to make this happen. Ashok Banker’s Ramayana was another book series that I had loved and have re-read it multiple times – the Vikramaditya Veergatha is right up that alley and I am proud to acknowledge that there are Indian authors who can be compared with the best of them out there!

I could go on and on about these books and why you should read them but I guess I have almost written a chapter’s length and am in danger of not being read. To end with, a subtle hint for Shatrujeet: George R. R. Martin wrote the first 5 books in his series almost one after the other and hooked millions of readers worldwide to the Game of Thrones. He has still not released the ‘last’ book of the series and along with the bouquets has had many a brickbat thrown at him just for his tardiness in this matter. Enough said!

Rating: 4.5 / 5

Nostalgia

1. That 'near to run' walk from home to school in record time each morning that ensured we reached on time everyday inspite of starting late. The myriad teenage conversations along the way.

2. Rushing down to play cricket or spend time with building friends, true friendships for life. Everyone now spread all around getting together once in a long while and laughing uproariously at the same jokes all over again.

3. Being lucky enough to grow up with my paternal grandmother and feeling the love she had for us; the way it manifested itself in her actions.

4. Spending hours browsing / rummaging through the multitude of books at Kings Library and then selecting the 2 or 3 most wanted to rent for reading. Running through them at breakneck speed and then repeating the above process all over again.

5. Being to able to bowl overarm for hours on end at a reasonably fast clip in the building compound. Playing tennis ball 'seal' matches with neighboring apartment building teams where the losing team forfeited the tennis ball got by them.

6. The feeling of anticipation while walking for Maths / Science or Hindi / Marathi tuitions depending on what was going to happen that day. As an aside, being the only boy in a batch full of girls at Hindi / Marathi tuitions; feeling very uncomfortable about that.

7. Travelling to Lamington Road with Dad to his place of work and getting special treatment from all his colleagues and friends. And a great lunch to follow with Dad.

8. That delicious tangyness of mom's dry aloo preparation (called batatya wagh in Konkani) and the explosion of flavours in the aftertaste. And so many other such dishes of her and my grandmother's making.

9. Walking into Bhavan's College on the first day for FYJC as part of a large group of over 25 Franciscans believing safety is in numbers from the 'ragging' phenomenon and gratified knowing the belief was correct. Enjoying the freedom that a college provides. Experiences of bunking, also physics and biology practicals, hanging around in the college campus.

10. Navratri nights in our building complex learning, enjoying and mastering the Garba steps; something we looked forward to every year. Dancing away till the wee hours with the same gusto as we had begun.

11. Getting a rick (alone) from college to Uncle's Kitchen (a small but well known local Chinese joint) and splurging on delicious Chinese food! Yes, really!

12. Going to NIIT Borivali three days a week for the GNIIT course and discovering that I did have a head for computer programming after all. The thrill of writing hundreds of lines of code and running it without any errors.

13. Hours spent discussing all and sundry with my friends in the college campus and dreaming about the future.

14. Having the capacity to devour surprising quantities of food with no apparent ill effects; being a welcome guest at my best friend's house and eating the most delicious non-vegetarian food.

15. Sunday mornings spent going through NCC drills in college; loving and hating it at the same time for the extremes of joy and pain it brought me.

16. The butterflies in my tummy as I first walked into a room for my first ever Group Discussion as part of the MBA program selection process and seeing other candidates and their aggression. Wondering if I would ever make the cut.

17. The days (and sometimes nights) spent on campus working hard towards earning that MBA degree; learning life lessons along the way and making lifelong friends inadvertently.

18. The first job and going through the shock of learning everything afresh and unlearning some of what I'd learnt through my school and college years. Late nights spent at work that went by in a flash in the company of some exceptional colleagues the likes of whom that it is still difficult to match.

Nostalgia is a strange mix of reliving happy memories of the past and missing them in the present. These and many others like them live on in my mind and from time to time bring on a wave of remembrances looked upon fondly and with wistfulness of those days never to come back.

What Will I Be Remembered For?

Sometimes life throws you into certain situations which make you realize the futility of the rat race that we are all part of, willingly or unwillingly, and how little the achievement of our materialistic goals mean. You begin to question what really matters to you and whether everything you wanted till now is really what makes you happy.

Thinking about death or talking about it is never easy for most of us. However, we all know that it is a certainty. A recent event in my life that shook me to my very core and got me thinking along those lines also made me think if my life has been one worth being remembered either by my or those who know me. Other than the familial ties which one obviously cannot shirk off, at least IMHO, am I someone who would be remembered by others? And if so, then what would I be remembered for? And what would I want to be remembered for?

If there could be a list for this kind, then the following would more or less be it for me.

1.    First things first, would my family remember me as having been a good son, a good husband, a good father, a good brother and so on? Not just because they are family but because they mean it?

2.    Have I been a good friend? Do my friends think so? Have I let time and distance take them away from me? Have I been there for them in their happy times and even more so, in their trying and sad times? How many close friends do I have?

3.  Will my colleagues think of me as someone who made a mark at work and whose contribution to their profiles and the team and organization at large would be missed? Will I only be remembered for my work or have some of my human qualities had an effect with people at work?

4. Am I a generous person? Did my generosity remain only within me or was I able to reach out with it and make a difference by sharing not only my worldly possessions but also of my heart?

5.    Did I follow my passions and make the most of what they had to offer? I am a voracious reader and love books. Did that make me a better person?

6.    Did my education and limited knowledge of the world at large show up when it was needed the most?

7. Was I a compassionate person? But for a few people, compassion is a quality that needs to be inculcated over your entire lifetime because it needs one to empathize with other people who may not be related to you but leaves the receiver full of your love and joy.

8. Was I open-minded or judgemental in my outlook? Did I hurt people knowingly or unknowingly? Are there some people who I would want to apologise to or mend rifts with?

9.    Was I the kind of person who placed money above people and relationships? Did I burn bridges with some people in this manner?

10. Lastly, would I be remembered as a nice person, someone who could bring happiness and joy to people, someone who could be depended on come what may, someone they could look back and think about with a smile? Would I be missed?

Too many thoughts crowding my mind at present, haphazardly at best. I can only hope that with some time, these will resolve into something that helps me become a better person and someone who leaves behind memories worthy of being remembered with love.

A Life Worth Celebrating

Some people enter your lives by chance and change it completely by virtue of their presence. He was one such guy. My connection to him originated only because he was the older cousin brother to S – older and certainly one of the most protective as well. My earliest memory of him is meeting him for coffee at the Borivali MacDonald’s in early 2004; this meeting happened because he told S he wanted to meet this guy she had chosen to marry. I went there scared expecting a thorough grilling from the over protective paranoid brother just like in the many Bollywood movies I’d seen over the years. But as it turned out, I met this broad-shouldered, genial and always smiling guy who even then seemed amused at how uncomfortable I seemed. It looked like he did approve of me considering S and I did eventually marry and from then on, he instantly became one of the people I could always look up to, both as a role model and as someone who would always firmly be on my side.

A highly talented plastic surgeon, he was a rising star in his professional circle, one highly recommended by senior doctors all across Mumbai. Those of his patients who I’ve come across over the years have always given rave reviews about him and his work. While he held impeccable credentials professionally, he also had the ability to connect with everyone who crossed his path, be it a senior citizen, a nervous college student, people from different social strata etc and make them feel at ease with his natural charm. In his capacity as a medical professional he was able to do good and touch the lives of many people who will never forget him.

For his loving family, he was like the rock of Gibraltar; always present and involved in any major decision that needed taking and we all knew that if he was entrusted with something, you could be rest assured that it would be taken care of. A son any parents would be proud of, a husband any woman would give anything for, a indulgent and loving father to his two lovely children and a brother in the truest sense, not only to his sisters but brothers as well. I say brothers in the plural as I include those who were connected to him only by virtue of marital ties not that it ever mattered to him or anyone else.

Getting to know him was a revelation of sorts, mainly from the viewpoint as to how one person could be so versatile both in his knowledge and his own personal hobbies / interests. While he never openly professed his affection, it always reflected in his behaviour towards you and it was pretty easy to know if he liked you. Conversations with him, both in person or on WhatsApp were always stimulating and there hasn’t been one single conversation in which I have not been able to take away something new. While there would be periods where we would both be caught up in our respective lives, but suddenly he would message me some day about something random or vice versa and a long conversation would then ensue. We connected immediately over our mutual love for food and books and I fondly remember our exchanges about great food joints which left us both salivating for the next time we went there. Similarly, book recommendations flowed freely between the both of us and given the diverse range of genres he liked, my appetite for reading different kinds of books also increased in the bargain.

A much later love that we both shared was that of riding, him a lot more intensely than me. He got his RE TB 500 first and after some months of hard riding cross country finally managed to convince S to let me get my RE as well. My first ride out of Mumbai, though it was only to Uttan, was with him. Still remember the early morning ride we had and the beautiful point we rode to where we got to see the sunrise light up a spectacular vista of an open beach and a calm sea with no one around but us. Subsequently we went on 2-3 other rides together, slightly longer this time and each of these also had the added attraction of some yummy breakfast at a place along the way. We planned to do a proper long ride spread over multiple days in the future but that did not materialize due to various reasons but he covered most of the well known routes including Leh-Ladakh, Spiti and even the treacherous Sarchu Pass in Kashmir with his riding group.

Another endearing aspect of his character was to be able to surprise you with something out of the blue. I remember returning home from work one evening and a random stranger riding my bike into my building compound even as I got off the autorickshaw and I watched open-mouthed as I realized that the silencer of my RE had been replaced with one that gave out a much deeper thump than the original. He had taken my bike away even while I was at work and had this done as a surprise to me for my birthday! This was just once example of what he could do. He was always ready to get up to something fun and going out with family and his close friends was a way of life for him. He had the ability to find humour in any situation and this meant that laughter followed him wherever he went. His trademark slow smile and the lazy laughter always stay with me as an indelible memory.

I have still not come to terms with the fact that he is not in the physical plane anymore and that such a freak accident would take him away from us. I find myself reading and re-reading our entire WhatsApp chat history in my weak moments and wanting to send a message asking him when we could meet next and it seems almost impossible that he isn’t around to reply. Whenever I find myself in certain situations in life, I think about what he would have done in those circumstances. I know for a fact that I carry a part of him within me, now and forever, one that will make me realize is life is to be lived well and holding back is not the way to be. A couple of months before his passing, he had mentioned to me that he was going to do the Everest Base Camp trek in 2018, a first for him. Knowing him, he would be attempting the EBC version of whichever happy place he now occupies. Over the last few months, I realize that I am part of a much larger group of people to whom he was larger than life itself and that his life has been a reason for celebration. And that is exactly what he himself would want, that he is always thought of with a smile for what he means to us. Today, May 13^th, is his birthday and I take this chance to say: Cheers, Bijoy! Love you, bhai!

My Favourite Authors

My first ever friend (guess we were so small, we may not even remember when we first set eyes upon each other) Kavita put me up to this. Seeing our mutual love for books and reading, it is no wonder that I am feeling excited even before I start writing this. Ahem…let us forget that fact that it has been over 2 years that K tagged me. Given the early start I got into the world of reading, it is no easy task to pick and choose a list of favourite authors out of the entire host I have read. Having gone through K’s list, I can safely say I am going to be repeating many of those and I am glad there is no number limit on this. ☺

While I don’t remember the very first books I must have read, I do remember that my earliest fond memories include books. Like all kids of my generation, I went through a regular diet of Enid Blyton and while her name has lately been tainted by people finding racial overtones in her books, she will always be responsible for introducing me to reading and making me love it – be it the Famous Five, Secret Seven, The Ragamuffin series or the slightly more grown up Five Find-outers and Dog series. And even now I am leaving out many others of the magical worlds she created for want of space!

Another series that comes to mind of another “author” is The Three Investigators. Always with an introduction from the famed Alfred Hitchcock, the concept of these teenage boys running their amateur detective agency was legend. Throw in the brains of Jupiter Jones, the brawns of Pete Crenshaw, the organization of Bob Andrews, a few fast chases, narrow escapes from the bad guys and last minute brainwaves and many afternoons went by very happily in their presence.

Now I come to the books that literally ruled my early and childhood years and changed the way I looked at mystery and adventure books forever – The Hardy Boys! The first Hardy Boys gifted to me by a older cousin sister made me seek them out as soon as I was done with that one and I felt as one with the Hardy brothers, Chet, Biff, Phil, Jerry and of course Callie and Iola when they went on their super excited adventures. The small fact that the brothers did not get a year older (till they aged by a whole year when the Case Files started) didn’t bother me in the least. I remember my neighbour in my Khar apartment building who owned the entire original hardbound Hardy Boys series and how he very kindly indulged this 8-year old who would devour one book in about 2-3 days and be back for the next! When the Case Files came out in my early teens, it made the atmosphere in the books much more grimmer with people actually getting killed and not just kidnapped but the tight storyline always had me glued.

The first “adult” book I read at the tender age of 13 was Kane & Abel by Jeffrey Archer. Took me a while but Lord Archer became one of my favourite authors over time and I can profess to have read all of his books over the years though some of his recent efforts seemed to lack the punch his earlier books had. In the similar genre, covering a lot of ground in terms of world history and seamlessly merging it into fiction was Ken Follett, another writer who I count amongst my faves. Sidney Sheldon while considered low grade by many also ruled the roost for me for some time.

Talking about merging history with fiction, I discovered James Michener a few years back on the recommendation of a blogger who has become a friend (you know who you are). Michener is unique in his storytelling in that while his books are really long and detailed, they are literally unputdownable and you are swept away in life and times of the rich world he creates in each of his masterpieces with intricate detail and research. Some of my favourites by him areThe Source (history of Israel), Poland andCentennial. If you like books with a lot of information, details and history then these are the books for you.

Two authors that give me my fix of high adrenalin action with fast paced action with all the bells and whistles of modern firepower and military gadgets are Mathew Reilly and Lee Child. Reilly’s Shane Schofield and Jack West Jr. and Child’s Jack Reacher are men you look up to at multiple levels and aspire for some of their qualities in the face of insurmountable odds. The best books for a short flight or a day you want to spend with a quick read.

Now I come to a genre that while I took my own time to warm up to it, has turned into my most liked genre ever – fantasy fiction! Obviously, this list has to start with JK Rowling and her Harry Potter series and how badly I wished that I had got a shot at living in that parallel world for a while. It was heartbreaking when the 7^th book finally got over and I had to return to a world sans Harry Potter. While it is much older book and had been in existence since the early 1900s, it shot to the limelight when the first movie of the trilogy released and many fantasy fans from my generation were treated to the magic of The Lord of the Rings. I remember buying a copy of the 3 books merged into a single volume immediately and proceeding to devour it from cover to cover. Since then, I have re-read this book about 4 times (yes, call me crazy) and also gone out on a limb and bought all other books by this king amongst authors includingThe Hobbit, Unfinished Tales, The Silmarillion, The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun and not once have I regretted the purchases. A more recent but just as strong pull has been towards George R R Martin and his famed Game of Thrones series. Needless to say, these 3 authors were enough to start a lifelong love affair with the genre and all the fare it afforded me.

While I am no medical person, but just like K, Robin Cook has had me hooked to his writing and hanging on to every word! Medical thrillers like his brings to mind another fabulous author Patricia Cornwellwith her trademark forensic investigations mixed with crime – can’t but not love them!

A few authors / books have been more recent discoveries – Murakami (abstract but blindingly beautiful), The Millenium Series (3 by Steig Larsson, 2 as yet by David Lagercrantz – Lisbeth Salander always leaves you wanting more and then even more), Keigo Hagashino (one of the best crime / mystery writers I have read, even translated from Japanese). Keigo’s The Devotion of Suspect X was spine tingling not only with its intricate plot but the revelation at the end! Many would have already read and loved The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak but I read it very recently.

This post would not be complete without mentioning some of my most favourite classics, the likes of Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility (Jane Austen), Arthur Conan Doyle (creator of arguably my most favourite literary character of all time –  can go on and on about him but maybe in a fresh post), the grand dame of mystery and crime, Agatha Christieand... ahem...let us stay with these for now.

Eric Segal with his Love Story and Doctors! Clive Cussler with Dirk Pitt! Khaled Hosseini who changed Afghanistan and made it more humane and warm for me forever!

How can I forget our very own Indian authors in this already lengthy list? Vikram Seth won me over with his mammoth masterpiece A Suitable Boy; can’t wait to read it again! Arundhati Roy with her haunting and beautiful The God of Small Things. Amitava Ghosh with The Hungry Tide; this book made me marvel how words could be used so beautifully to describe life in the Sunderbans and the tragic end made me gasp at the futility of it all. One of the few Indian authors who went and wrote a series and rocked at it, Ashok Banker (his Ramayana and Mahabharata series both changed how I felt about these epics). Amish, who picked up the mythology trail and gave it his own twist with the Vayuputra trilogy and now is 2 books into his own version of the Ramayana.

Given the number of books I now own and have not read as yet (yes yes, I know!) and the number of authors I’ve had the privilege to read and love, this post could go on and on and on if you know what I mean. So I’d rather end here, wallow in this warm happy feeling I’m in the throes of when thinking of and writing about so many prized authors and books and let this post (which my dear friend, K tagged me to do at least 2 years ago) see the light of day! Happy reading. ☺

Sir

I stopped in my tracks! Was this really G sir? Since I was still some distance from the grocery shop, I still wasn’t sure.

Those were days when parents believed that schools were just too crowded to really understand what was being taught and teachers were too caught up managing the class to do justice to teaching. So Sir as we called G sir was the ideal solution in these so-called crucial years of our education.

Sir was a veteran teacher and had a piercing gaze behind thick glasses that could literally burn into an errant student. He never raised his voice; its timbre was enough to command our attention, fear and grudgingly our respect too. His teaching methodology was more logic-oriented than our school’s “by rote” teaching. Sir would make sure the concepts behind the subject matter were made clear and help figure out the rest for ourselves. His notes, tests and assignments were exhaustive and written in his own hand before being photocopied and passed on to us. The tension in the air during each of his tests was palpable. He would sit at the head of the table and look around while we literally and figuratively sweated with our answer sheets.

I remember the comfortable trackpants and t-shirts he used to wear always. I remember him scanning school report cards after exams and the shiver down my spine then. I remember his agitation at what he termed incorrect concepts taught us by school teachers and threatening to castigate the said teacher. I also remember the kindly twinkle in those gray-brown eyes, the thick moustache and large slurpy noise made while sipping on his customary mug of tea. I remember him taking us out for a picnic to a nearby beach during 10th grade, the last time we met as a batch.

Whenever I run into any old batchmates or even other students lucky enough to be tutored by Sir, we realize we actually revered and loved him for what he had been to us - a great teacher! Funnily, none of us had really kept in regular touch with him after school.

I’d reached the shop; it WAS sir. The glasses were still thick, the moustache white but still thick. I smiled and he smiled back, “How are you, Sachin?”. I looked fondly at the frail but still great man and said “I’m well, Sir! And you?”

A Road Less Travelled

Biking lore has it that there is no greater joy than bombing down a long road with a strong wind whistling in your ears, trees and open countryside flashing by and the strong steady beat of your machine keeping time to your heartbeat. I had read about it, heard about it and also watched versions of it in films and on TV. But it is rightly said that till you do it yourself, you can’t understand what the big deal is all about.

I’ve owned a RE Thunderbird 350 for just over 3 years now and have ridden it in and around town quite a bit. This also included 3 “short” rides of about 70-80 km (2 with my bhai - S’s brother to Manor and Vashind respectively and a few rides with the Enfielder’s riding group and friends). These rides gave me a taste of what it was to really get out there and ride hard. This post was written about one such ride with the Enfielder’s in Dec 2016. Yes, it is a late post but people who know me also know how I can be with finishing posts that I start.

At that point, I jumped at the chance of a much longer ride (as compared to other rides I had been on till then), again with the Enfielder’s, to Jawhar / Mokhada; this one would roughly be about 120-130 kms each way so in effect more than double the distance as compared to any of my previous rides.

The ride was to happen on Dec 24^th 2016, the day before Christmas and hence a lesser turnout was expected. I reached the meeting point at 5.15 am and over the next hour and a half, more and more riders joined in taking the count of bikes to 19. Since this was to be an “open” ride, there were a few non-RE bikes including a Harley, a KTM, a Honda and another Honda Unicorn. While waiting for everyone, most of us were giving each other’s bikes the usual once over, checking out the modifications made as well as aesthetic changes that made each RE so unique in character and if I may use the word, personality. A riding group is great example of homogeneity in diversity and the Enfielder’s are no exception; caste, creed, gender, age, profession and background all take the backseat and all riders come together with a single-minded love for riding. The camaraderie is simply amazing to experience and I feel privileged to be part of this band of brothers and sisters.

The ride began post a briefing by the group lead where he laid down the ground rules while riding. On longer rides with a large group of bikers, it is essential that everyone is in sync. This is not only to ensure the safety of each and every rider but also to maintain the high standards and the spirit of teamwork embodied by the group. At 7 am, we set out along NH – 8 towards Virar in single file with the leader leading the pack. The speed picked up once we crossed the China Creek bridge as the rising sun made its presence felt from our right. It was a cold morning and none of the protective gear we had on including riding jackets, gloves, balaclavas and helmets could keep the chill from creeping into our arms and legs. Not that this dampened our enthusiasm in any way!

The sight of all the bikes in a perfect single file thundering their way along a good road is poetry in motion and only experiencing it can make one understand the thrill that a biker feels when on one such ride. Along the way, we passed many small towns on both sides of the highway and without fail, heads turned in unison to see us ride past, wistful smiles on the faces of the teenaged boys and the younger men. Before long we were approaching the Toll naka after Virar and there was a massive traffic snarl on the opposite side with huge trucks and buses blocking the entire entry towards Mumbai. This had led to traffic also spilling over to the wrong side (our side) and the right most lane was a long line of trucks and left most a long line of cars coming from the wrong side. The overall effect was a choke up so bad that it was difficult to even manoeuvre our bikes through. After a while, using the small gaps in between the larger vehicles, the bikes managed their way out of the mess onto a relatively clear area. In the process, I had my right side rear-view mirror cracked when a truck brushed past it.

After a short break on clearing the obstacle, we resumed our ride and very soon we were crossing the Manor flyover and taking a right off the highway. The road we were on now was good and undulating with lot of sharp curves and ascending continuously. Both sides we could only see well tended fields stretching away and bordered by mountains on one side. Riding here was extremely enjoyable but at the same time we had to keep both eyes on the road given the sudden twists and turns and the quick moving occasional traffic from the opposite side.

Biking, like many other pursuits that involve concentration, grows on you gradually until it finally becomes muscle memory. Your bike becomes an extension of your body and responds immediately to the smallest of actions on your part, reflexively or otherwise. This is when your mind is clear and there no idle thoughts to distract you from your primary objective of riding. Your responses are instant and come without any conscious effort from your side. It is this state that every rider worth his ilk craves for and when in it, lives a truly transcendental moment.

After a lovely ride of about 60 km on this road, we reached a small eatery on the outskirts on Jawhar village. We downed breakfast ravenously (nothing like a long ride to whet appeties). Hunger pangs satisfied, we rode through Jawhar village and then onto a narrow winding road leading downhill. This road was pretty much broken down and the loose gravel and stones made the going even tougher. Having said that, the view in places was spectacular though we had to keep our eyes on the road for the most part. A ride of about 20-25 minutes brought us to our destination, a tiny hamlet.

After spending some time there, we set out for the journey back home, again in single file just as we came. We stopped at Jawhar while a few of us went to replenish their fuel tanks and then rode back the way we had come. Luckily, by then the traffic had cleared up and the ride back was smooth all the way upto China Creek with us being able to ride at a consistent speed of 80-90 km all the way. I reached home for a late lunch with my heart full of what I had seen and experienced during the ride. Given my experience of the rides that followed this one, I can safely say that riding is here to stay!! Maybe someday I will ride in the Himalayas after all.... mid life crisis or not....