BiKronicles 4: Lavasa Valley City

Happy Deepawali

This time Diwali was a scramble about town. When you are a couple you have much in common or rather end up having much in common. This is good. Then come those occasional uncompromised-able uncommon factors, which I think are fun cuz THAT makes us individuals. Diwali is lights, sweets and full stop at 10:30pm as per mister Abeer. Diwali is “woooow” “oh my god oh my god” *whaaaam* *BOOM* #nomnom “do I look fat” “haven’t I lost any weight” “where is your traditional avatar” and the likes as per et moi.

This time we played it slow and all loved up. I found a dress and wore it. There were no loud crackers and no severe abuse of the arteries. I decided to play it mellow too on the condition that we AT LEAST fuse up a few phuljhadis which we did :D These sparklers were also to cheer us up for the ridiculous struggle and failing to plan our Diwali weekend (or so we thought at the time). Every resort, beach property, hotel, home stay and everything that all websites and travelogues could offer had gone up fpr grabs like it was the last vacation on this god forsaken planet. Long weekend √ Family festival √ Firecrackers √ Mumbai √ Getaway options and offers √ - Who wouldn’t run outta town the 1^st blip they got. So we decided to stand our ground on the leave and take off.

We chose Lavasa valley city as our new exploration and decided to follow it up with Khadakwasla Lake the same day or the next. NH47 our standard route and an early start at near dawn i.e. 6am was the kickstart of the weekend. Not surprisingly, cracker echoes were still ringing into the pre-sunrise sky. We were glad to escape the heavyset smog and evident gunpowder pollution. Following the route and now covering it in lesser time than we used to, we took a turn at the Wakad circle and headed right. The road was pebble-like and had tons of gravel for a while. The locals and petrol station warned us of that. But after a few kms it was smooth as butter and absolutely scenic. By now we were used to scenic routes but when green valleys and plateau like visuals were replaced by reservoirs, unending and winding lakes and huge dams, we just had to pause for a break. What strikes at 1^st is the sustenance of the area. The locals look like they are well maintained, have ample job opportunities created by those who paved the Lavasa valley city and dams and have their own produce and resources tended to. The good thing is that there are still miles of untouched and un-hawked zones on the driveway to the valley city. That’s why it’s imperative to stock up on chai and water any chance one gets.

We noticed many bikers this particular weekend. Especially the Dukes and KTM riders (more like racers), a whole lot of Royal Enfield groups probably on one of their breakfast rides and also a stray few Harleys. All the key scenic points were stacked with bikers and each one was checking out the other. Abeer and I were the stray lone ones not part of any groups. However, the thrill of overtaking or riding along with one of the passing groups, even if briefly, is something I am always prepared for. We reached Lavasa valley after what seemed like an ascent, a descent followed by another steep ascent overlooking Temghar Lake. Temghar Lake starts with a humble scenic water body and quickly expands into a winding massive water body that provides resources (water, hydroelectricity, harvesting etc.) for 1000s of kms of land and forest area. Lavasa city is built on one of the banks of a hilly region overlooking Temghar lake and has its own Dasve Dam bridge that connects the waterfront from one end to the next. It’s a brilliant concept based on a European design and always draws a ‘mini EU in India’ comparison. There are ample places to eat and explore despite them being WIP. We lunched at the All American Diner where there was an offer for a few course meals at fixed price. We were starving and foodies that we are, offers always cheer us up. Therefore, we did indulged.

Temghar Lake Dam

A quick ride around the entire property across the riverfront, a bit of a walk and the day just sped by. Lavasa appears to have been made rather clean and ecofriendly. Again it was quiet and the crowd was scanty. The same cannot be guaranteed on a crowded day or event. The properties looked promising and rather inviting but I was clear I wasn’t looking for a community. I was looking for my own lone cabin by the lake. We left for Pune and had an eventful rest of the weekend by ourselves. It usually involves lovely meals, some real us time together and of course a good watering hole. This weekend we checked out a new joint and an old all-too-familiar brewery – Flambos and Irish Village. Khadakwasla was saved for another day given that we woke up rather late and didn’t quite feel like copping another long ride.

Beer samplers at Irish Village

All in all it was a gorgeous weekend. Lovely sights with simplicity being the order of the weekend. In addition, our bebe and beauty –RoyalEnfield Classic Tan 500cc series (I call her Limited Edition) <3.

For a top-of-the-hill view of Lavasa Valley visit the following clips I shot on Instagram: http://instagram.com/p/ujwkWivrWa/?modal=true and another video taken from the middle of Dasve Dam http://instagram.com/p/uhpcYFPrVn/?modal=true

 

 

BiKronicles 3: Nashik-Daman and Diu (Wining and Dining)

It’s been > a week since our epic trip to Nashik and Daman and Diu. A complete tangent ball game from our otherwise smooth rides. I was prepared and then not-so-prepared for this trip.

The ironic Monday after the week came with an anchoring feeling. Sinking would mean I could swim back up. This was heavy and leaded. The feeling was slightly eased by changing my shift from 6am-2pm and celebrating Eid-al-adha with my truly. I was glad I worked my ass off prior to the long weekend cuz that meant no anxiety attacks this workweek.

The trip was perfect until the evening before when an evil and honestly useless custom plagued me. Dry day on 02 Oct when we had planned to visit vineyards and thrive under vino-isk magic. Abeer eased my nerves; said, “Let’s just go and see what we can do!” to which I added “Lets buy wine and go to vine country!” Both extremely wise and useful decisions. Having gotten a steal at our choice hotel IBIS, I was pinched about paying more than double the difference to change our dates of travel. Glad I was talked out of it and lured with spirit (literally speaking). After having packed off the cats to foster care, which was a huge adventure in itself, I took off on the bike – this time new and revised gear and better prepared. Riding in the morning has a serene ‘leave this world behind’ sort of theme. There is literally nothing to interrupt you. Even if you need breakfast, you are seriously lucky if you find something of choice in the same route of travel at 6:30am. Starbucks, Powai it was. This was also the 1^st trip where the much coveted, hunted and finally acquired Cramster saddle bags made its debut on our bebe’s booty. The bags just slide over the seat, do not interfere with the pillion footing or support and have easy to reach into pockets for quick bites and water bottles. The 48ltr capacity was perfect for packing in 3 days’ worth of whatever we needed and it had room. Abeer joked that I could use 1.5 parts of the bag. I was good and used only 1. J 

Abeer's idea of a flattering pic of me!

The road was relatively smooth with the occasional ‘excavations’ caused by cargo wielding transport. The potholes and speed breakers were the kind that can send you straight up before you even realize what hit you or vice versa. Road condition is something that prompts me to be Abeer’s absolutely 100% fail-safe vision. Even if he is busy sightseeing whilst hitting the 100 speed mark, I ensure that I’m watching the road. There is also the selfish motive that prompts me to watch out for me more cuz the rider will be safer than the pillion who might slip off, fly or just fall off due to obstacle+speed making merry. We tried hard to ignore the near 40°C weather and rode on. The route was scenic and divine and we stopped to get a few clicks inspired by the scores of Instagram handles that glorified biking in all its panache and had us hooked. Maharashtra is truly scenic and beautiful. There is untouched rawness, which I believe is maintained partially by the locals who aren’t plagued by greed and destruction.

Once at Nashik, we reached IBIS, made a smooth check in and were met by the most ergonomically designed hotel room. Perfect use of space with comfort and no short-change on any aspect. I never tend to believe any and every ‘review’ posted on multitude travel sites. People are fussy and imagine the presidential suite at the 4 seasons in regular hotels at meagre shillings. Take a hike buddy. People forget that the room is to rest, shower, and get out of… not LIVE IN. Aaaaaaaarrrrgh. Moving on. We doused ourselves in AC coolness, showered and moved to Sula Vineyards. FYI all other vineyards were shut even for basic dine in or tours. Sula remained faithfully open and that’s where I felt comfort revisit me; that I didn’t cancel/change the travel plans. There was no wine serving or tasting. But there were wine infused dishes on the property’s French kitchen aptly named ‘Soleil’. Although named after its ingredients it was the likeness of coq au vin and lovely prawn bisque followed by fish steak and salsa.

My love and his love (Nexus 5)
in a frame at Sula!

Lazed and passed out like 2 tabbys under heavy quilts and loaded on wine from mid noon to the next morning. We were THAT tired. Well rested, hungry as hell (read pestering front desk for when breakfast service will start); we sauntered down ready for our next pit stop. THIS was something we weren’t prepared for. The route from Nashik to Daman was a dirt road that touches NH8 – calculated at a decent 2.5-3hrs at constant speed. We took >6hrs, thanks to long winding inner roads and near missable exits. I was on GPS and even diverted us once to what was understood as a ‘shortcut’ to NH8. Boy was I wrong. It was riddled with gravel, stones, and sticky clay like mud that made the bike skid. Add to that the heat and high cliffs and no human soul in sight. This was ideally asking for trouble and we wasted 30mins in diverting and then backtracking. After this, the tempers and the heat took turns to soar. Abeer was of course the diffuser for both. He calmed me down and occasionally gave me a sound hearing, which involved a verbal dismissal or a nice speedy dash over a rough breaker (the latter I did not appreciate).

Absolute slices of heaven enroute to Daman via interior roads

I kept reminding myself to focus on the route and the scene because THIS was something we would not get to see too often. There was absolute pastel color beauty everywhere. The kind you see in nature paintings capturing ideal settings: a brook or stream, lakes and ponds, sunrise and sunsets, shades of brown from the tree trunk to the surrounding soil, a quaint lil poetry bridge (very romantic), water flowing musically over rocks and shiny pebbles, valleys of colorful flowers in patches… I may sound like I’m losing it but it sincerely was such. Interior Maharashtra is likened to an uncorrupted virgin in mind, body and soul. We periodically whizzed past tiny near insignificant villages and then the occasional large village townships as I would call it. The latter if cemented and founded with bricks to define housing and living structures. Everybody walked. Vehicles were a rarity and 2 wheelers a probable life saver here. The locals were friendly and always appeared blank on conversing as the Marathi dialect I belted out was nowhere close to what they spoke. Surprisingly Gujarati was a winner when all else failed. I constantly wondered what this place would be like in the rains and the answer will be visually astounding if I ever do return for an encore. There were structured and manmade roads but no light installations or provisions that made me realize that unless you know the terrain like the back of your hand, DO NOT travel or explore post sunset. It is indeed asking for trouble as there were many detours and routes; the main road itself a narrow 2-way for traffic which whooshed by and rattled you for a few seconds.

A good 3hrs into the ride and I was tired and hurting all over. The heat wasn’t helping and distractions were few to none. We barely communicated and used music to calm the nerves – EDM. Locals were helpful in pointing out the route but it was all guesswork. One said NH was 5kms away and in typical Indian fashion, “Haan haan seedha jaao mill jayega” (yes yes keep going straight and you’ll get it). Another said the same except he calculated 10-11kms and made it sound like it was around the next bend. India… Lol. Ultimately, after all the riding we touched NH8 and it felt exactly like Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) meeting Ellis "Red" Redding (Morgan Freeman) in Zihuatanejo. There on the roads and highways could put Maharashtra to shame. We cruised an easy and smooth 120 without so much as a break or a glitch. The speed breakers also break speed but without the risk of hitting and turtling if not caught in time.

The Daman Fort that encapsulates all Govt. buildings
and heritage sites.

Daman is THAT part of Gujarat that is no longer a part of Gujarat. It is quaint and little and has a stark contrast to architecture and crowd across the Daman Ganga river. We stayed put on the Devka beach part of town and explored it on the bike. Point to note was that we stuck out from the crowd and that drew a lot of attention. When we stepped out of the hotel we were followed with barely a foot’s worth of distance. Abeer didn’t want to compromise our safety and I didn’t think that in worse situations he would be able to defend us against half the drunken population of Maharashtra and Gujarat who had driven down here for the long weekend (read dry days). So we took the bike around, ate seafood and drank beer in a few upscale places, stayed away from dimly lit and isolated spots and returned back to our abode, Hotel Gurukripa (I recommend). It’s a decent place to stay with all the amenities, good breakfast and reasonably priced. My sights were set on The Deltin, Nani Daman. Someday baby someday.

Next morning we drove down to Jampore beach at 6am to watch the sunrise and that other part of town. It was very domesticated, beautiful smooth roads, administration and policing, housing, shelter, and a whole little Daman community tucked away. Our exhaust rattle must’ve woken most of them up but we just cruised along. People usually kept to themselves but when approached they wholeheartedly helped and spoke at length. Suddenly I felt safe and wanted to explore. A quick semi-continental breakfast, packing in and leaving we cruised through Moti Daman’s architectural and historic offerings of a fort, lighthouse and churches and went on our way. We touched Mumbai in a stupendous 3hrs. Nonstop at a speed of 120 and not once did I feel rattled or unsafe. The roads were THAT good. Once in Mumbai, smoke, smog, heat, anger, impatience and general annoyance settled in a matter of minutes. I dread this feeling ALWAYS.

Came home, cleaned up and unpacked and thanked our stars we had a whole Sunday to recover from this mini adventure of ours. I just hope our life (Abeer and mine) are always full of these <3.

Us 2 and our bebe at the Daman Fort and Lighthouse.

 

BiKronicles 2: Mini revisits (Panchgani-Mahabaleshwar)

Deep ink blue. That’s how I feel this morning. To replicate that heavy feeling is a looming dark cloud just outside my window with ‘Monday’ and ‘Long weekend is over’ etched in it somewhere. I can’t shake it off with my cuppa chai or even exchanging sweet morning msgs with my love. All I can do is wait for more colors to dissipate this one.

My excitement post getting our babe (REClassic500) was synonymous to a 5yr old being told they can go to Paris. Disney Land. Sit on ALL rides. Buy everything they touch. And the likes. I think it made me happier than Abeer to get her. I haven’t stopped planning trips, gear, safety, routes and what not. The last week of August took both of us by the neck. We were burned out, exhausted and I hadn’t slept in days staying up from 3am to 3am literally. It was a 4 working day week and that Friday was off was the bane and boon of our existence. It meant long weekend at the cost of a short weekday. We didn’t have the capacity to even sit and consciously map out where we were about to traverse. But I found the time to bug friends who had been on this route many times. Thus, fell our plan into place.

The day before the trip, I was zombied and my worst – a state my friend Simin and I used to synonymize with the zombies of the ‘Walking Dead’ series. I was battling some serious workload, packing off 2 stubborn cats with help from my momma and staying up all night. This resulted in a bit of a delay the trip day and forgetting my helmet at home causing the grump start. Helmet retrieved, arguments done, we started off. I was in severe discomfort and pain due to my monthly monster cycle coupled with no nutrition or sleep. If I thought I was in trouble, 3x that was the compromised safety of my boyfriend aka rider. I controlled myself from not physically assaulting him. He was loving and sweet and managed to make the journey bearable and as we intended all month long.

Our 1^st detour from plan was to stop in Pune and stay the night rather than continue nonstop to Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar. This was for both our benefit. The Ganpati weekend provided enough maneuverable traffic and obscene volume of music everywhere. We crashed in, slept like 2 heavy logs, did a bit of sheesha at a shady outlet named Jashn and then some amazing sizzler dinner at 11 East Street. Ambition and some lightheadedness from the hookah made us wanna catch a late night movie. Instead we called it a night cuz my man here loves a 5am wake up and a high-speed readiness to take to the road. I am now used to this routine and can only stress on the benefits of always hitting the road early; NO traffic, NO pollution, NO annoying people, NO heat dust or smog, NO dullness and so on. It’s beautiful and romantic I might add.

Day 2, 30 August, we left for an all day trip to Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar. I learned a lot about Abeer on this trip. It’s not just a ride or a trip, it’s a journey. He just pauses, breathes in places, checks his watch and is ready to move on… very characteristic of his own personal attitude. No looming, lingering, or hovering. I, on the other hand, am all about the loom, hover, hang. Until I have not completely soaked in what I needed to, I just cannot leave. My logic was we traveled all the way; hence, we must do justice to the destination. Our time allotted to the justice-ing was off between each other. But as always we found balance. We let each other be but we couldn’t be more in sync if we tried. He is kinder, softer and more attentive on such getaways. The phones get some rest and I get so much more face time with him. That’s why I’m addicted to these times and journeys. In the city, it’s a challenge. The phone (his Nexus 5) is the 2^nd wife I have had to adopt and give an occasional smile to. Anyways back to the road. We battled some pleasant and not so pleasant rains. The not so pleasant part is attributed to bad roads, potholes the size of craters and not so easily visible until too late and Abeer’s not so strong vision. Managing the gear, a huge helmet and glasses is not as easy as it looks convenient. I just kept his and my spirits up; we played road games scoring how many potholes he missed versus not and then kept count. On a long open road with no visible vehicle either in the front or back of yours, silly childlike games keep you going J When I would be upset and not respond and sit quiet for hours, Abeer, my love, would break that monotony with a big 5 in the air out of nowhere and I would wonder what just happened. I would see he just dodged a pothole and was scoring for us… we would burst into giggles and there would end our pseudo-feud. Silly me.

After what seemed like 3hours straight, we were up a steep hill climb, the valley view getting more picturesque, and the turns getting more sharper and dangerous. The view immediately took me back to the time I would be dropped off to boarding school by mum at the start of the academic year. The treachery of knowing I wouldn’t see her for a year would be eased by me riding in an expensive comfy cab in her lap. Here I was, behind my man, showing him parts of the state (Maharashtra) and places of my childhood. He loved and marveled at everything. We reached Panchgani at early noon, after a brief stop at Harrisson’s Foley. We went straight to Table Land and witnessed the lake, the valley and a bad angle view of the Devil’s Kitchen. Little walks and views were followed by some much needed Maharashtrian infused lunch. Dosas (very different), missal and ussal pav and what not. We rode some more down the road, passed my school Kimmins High school where I just HAD to squeal, some ogling at lovely homes and properties, and straight through a divine road with intervals of Malas and Mapro depots and signs. Mapro of course dominating with Malas as its sidekick. For the lesser informed, Mapro and Malas are brands/companies who specialize in sweet treats, jelly and fruit confectionary, berries and jams, crush and syrups etc. A whole load of sweet to put you in confectionary heaven. THAT is what I will eventually use to describe the Mapro Farm (an absolute must visit). We were disappointed not to find any fresh strawberries or mulberries that we so desperately chased but realized it’s out of season. We settled for their homemade ice cream and toppings and bought some amazing organic honey and jams to take back. I also shopped some ridiculously cheap scarves and a pair of biking gloves at a Kashmiri handicraft store. In Mumbai, there would be attempts to rip me off with 3 figure demands and much haggling. Here the digits fell to 50 bucks and 250 bucks, respectively. I got greedy and didn’t haggle at all :D

Pause

We rode further down to Mahabaleshwar. Going to some signature points like Kate’s point, Echo valley etc. spent much time there and moved on. It was breathtaking and I managed to steal a pic of 2 haggard, roughed up bikers standing next to each other. Hardly the loved up scene I wished to capture. We stopped by the town’s only CCD and paused for a good amount of time. Drank 2 coffees as my biker boy exclaimed that we were ahead of schedule so we had that precious time to waste and while away. Which we did where our numb behinds finally had restored sensation. Coffee and recommended bathroom breaks after we rode back to Pune. The ride was fantastic through Wai until we hit the traffic of Pune. The welcoming pollution and maneuvering traffic was worse than the downpour we endured on our return journey. We went straight home, cleaned up and went to Dorabjee’s where I ate like I hadn’t been fed in a decade. Wolfed down was more like it with one leg on the chair like a Panchayat head. Everyone else around me thought what a pretty but hungry girl. Wonder why she looks so starved. Hahaha. The rest period was good bonding time. Checks and gossips over music and what we can do next. What trips and what routes. What scenes and what gear. What went wrong and what we can do better. Our amusement for the day was when we passed a group of seasoned Royal Enfield riders who took great offense to our new tan Classic version overtaking their hierarchically synchronized ride. They eventually made some dangerous cuts in traffic on the National highway to prove a point and overtook us… I think my bubblegum pink Vega helmet added insult to injury…. Lol… Boys…

Abeer and our bebe

Mumbai return trip was beautiful and perfect. Relaxed with stops to the smog engulfed Lonavala valley, a cup of boiled butter corn from our usual suspect and going through dewy rainwashed routes. We stopped briefly parallel to Khopoli on a lone route taken only by bikers once you get off the expressway. The scene was straight out of a book or photoshopped magazine cover. We paused to take some pictures which eventually earned us rave reviews and a great many fans (miniscule but great for us). It was EPIC. The city entry was divine followed by nightmare of sore backs, painful legs, near-exploding bladders, growling stomachs and torrential downpour. It was probably the 1^st time in 3 days I just wanted to get off the bike and lay flat and not get back on. Yep it was the too-much-of-a-good thing syndrome. Abeer was exhausted. Through this journey I solemnized that I would fulfil my dream of learning to ride one of these babies and have the ability to take over when Abeer needed a break. If we were gonna be biker hogs then me riding pillion forever would be a very selfish move for him as well as for my dream. So I returned with a good trip, good memories, loads of newfound love for the road, our trips, new passions and my man. I also came back with determination for a better week, a new journey to plan and to learn a new skill :)

Watch out for BiKronicles III. For pictures of the journey, visit my Instagram handle (gatacdo7) and Abeer’s (tipsies).

Royale EnTRY and stuff of Classics…

*speechless* *tears* *overwhelm* and *part exhaustion* some of the emotions that ran through me when our Royal Enfield Classic 500cc Tan sailed out of the showroom on her maiden journey a short distance away; date 07 Aug 2014 (Wednesday).

Abeer had been talking of bikes and jeeps since I knew him. He was and has been the quintessential boy. Rough, rugged, playful and childlike (I would like to replace that last bit with childish). But where would us women be with our men and none of their toys (pun unintended). Abeer is a gadget-y mechanic-y man since he knew how to take things apart and reassemble them back per his fashion aka customization. So when the ghost of Royal Enfield unleashed her charms on him, he was tempted to say the least.

Honestly, I can’t recall when did it start. We started admiring bikes in parking lots and whenever we passed one. He would talk of the machine like he was in a daze about it. I for one am a bike lover. I am not a fruitful rider but I make up for my massive inability with being good pillion rider and enjoying every bit of it. So I encouraged this infatuation than rant about safety and cost etc. EVERYTHING in this world is dangerous and unsafe. It’s up to us how we make it substantially safe. I prodded him to go to the main showroom. Ask people. Get details etc. He would do so and then it would die down cuz of money, planning or the lack of it or even just something else coming up. We continued this practice on our weekend getaways as well. Pune being the 2^nd primary target. Quite frankly I didn’t wanna force or push him lest he feel like he’s investing in a machine just for me. But I also couldn’t shake off the fact that he so desired one and nothing was coming off it. So I took it into my hands this time to literally pulley-push him like a wheelbarrow into the showroom.

In the meantime we were hung up on the RE Thunderbird 350/500cc (debatable based on usage and mileage). The moment the ‘decision’ phase started, I was planning journeys in my head. This was indeed going to be an adventure. Abeer’s grouse was the waiting period. My grouse was in the months we spent hunting the perfect 1, we could have ALREADY had 1 in our hand. Here on forward, he decided and I calculated. Then came the saga of the Continental GT. An Enfield product, which to me appeared to have undergone a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Phase. It was a beauty – no doubt. But for me it lacked the classic RE body and design. The bike didn’t feel like an RE to me (no offense). This is based on pure external aesthetics and in no way reflective of the performance. Abeer took a test ride in Pune one evening while on our way back to Mumbai after a FIFA WC weekend. The Continental GT’s weight, inability to turn smoothly around our compromised Indian U-turns and bends as well as the sheer stress on the rider’s back was what made him change his mind. This was confirmed with other riders and bikers who shared similar experiences.

We had our hearts settled on a matte black Thunderbird series. Stunning beauty I would liken to Lupita Nyong’o. One couldn’t take their eyes off it. So was the Desert Storm but it was a bit of a has-been for us. The RE Classic 500cc Tan was something that lay low, hidden, like a child crawling out from under a barbed fence in a war zone. The irony was it was Tan colored. Perfect stand out machine and just 1 piece in sight. Again, we couldn’t take our eyes off of her. But this time our eyes and hearts didn’t move and we WANTED her. Abeer booked it – 06 June 2014. We pooled in our monies to 5k (unprepared to have loose change lying around for let’s say a bike), filled a few forms, felt smug about saving 8-9k on-road price in Pune vs Mumbai and walked out with a smile that looked like we stole precious cherries from the neighbor’s garden. It was OUR secret. The moment we reached Mumbai, the REAL adventure began. Every SMS plainly saying ‘Congrats you own a blah blah’ would excite us. It was really sinking in. Now was financial planning. Loans, down payments, EMIs, best options etc. The waiting period communicated was about a month or more. We got confirmation of her arrival in ~10days of booking her.

1st look and out on the road post registration

Let me tell you the excitement, frustration, eagerness, annoyance and every shifty feeling of having something ~160kms away and not being able to have it until a few formalities are complete. In our eagerness to grab her, we hastily followed (read believed and relied on) any and every advice that came in for financial planning. In the end the ‘greens’ rather ‘Gandhiji’ is what built and tested our level of patience and endurance. We made 2 futile trips just to see her lying in the showroom. No other Tan piece was available for showing or selling. Apparently, we were the only ones who had booked it. We fought with bank employees and loan sharks. Came home to Mumbai and fought cross-city with our dealer in Pune. Abeer needed me to turn on the nasty and get the ball not rolling but spinning straight out the galley. I did. 1 Wednesday I carried my work with me and we fought and waited and cried and argued and insisted on action and I meanwhile worked and worked and the day seemed endless. I decided I was gonna camp outside the dealer’s showroom JUST to make the bank and dealer feel guilty. The overwhelm and patience which had assaulted my tonsils made me just WANT her than deserve her. Abeer was near tears and probably would have sunk back and cancelled it all. It was NOT gonna happen after all this. In the meantime, Brahma Motors (Dealer) washed, polished and fitted a mud guard on her. Sort of calming our nerves to show us that she was ready when we were.

At 7pm we got the go-ahead and she rolled out from their enclosure into light. That enclosure if viewed in background fade, would look all black-grey-brown and this one an absolute unmistakable stand out. Everyone assumed, rather assumes we did a custom paint job on her. All eyes from a nearby tea stall were on her. I was exhausted and speechless and I couldn’t stop the tears. Just wipe and hide them. I wanted to hug her but that would be a Yash Raj moment for these people. Marker pen on the makeshift license plate indicated her birth on the road and we took off after a few glitches and final to-dos. I loved it. Loved her and loved Abeer even more. He was happy. That made ME happy. Mission accomplished. We cruised a bit. Had our 1^st nightmare traffic; got pulled over by a cop in 10mins and were let go to run wild and free (pun intended) in the next 30 secs of him ogling at her. It was brief burst of adrenaline. Abeer took it to park in his garage safely away from prying eyes and of course, to share the moment with his family.

After we returned home to Mumbai at 2am, it was an even painful long waiting for the next week or 2. Registration and formalities and what not. Abeer wanted a preferred number that we chose. Sadly that number didn't work out. We decided no more trips until we could bring her back to Mumbai. It was all or nothing. 15 August Independence Day marked that weekend for us. We took off the same night, removed her from the garage and it was 2 whole days of just her and us. We took maybe 2 odd breaks to rest our backs and butts that had gone numb. Abeer barely slept 3 hours and was busy washing her and readying her at 5am for a 6am ride. I was punished for being late at 7-freaking-am. Ok ok understood. We rode in divine weather and breeze. Bike jackets and gear in place, helmets purchased, cleaned, tugged along… finally performed their duties. We joked that my gregariously bubblegum pink helmet would distract people from putting nazarr on the bike. Lol Never happened.

We did our maiden long journey on 17 Aug 2014, Sunday, from Pune-Mumbai via NH4. Started at 6:30am and touched Mumbai at 11:30am. We had probably 5 stops to cool the new engine which couldn’t be pushed beyond 60, had chai and corn, weathered heat, heavy and light rains, dense fog, brief bit of biting cold, and brilliant breeze. It was smooth and perfect and I couldn’t have asked/wished for more. Gave us an idea of how to manage other longer and more rugged journeys in the near future. She had her 1^st bike wash and exposure to Mumbai as well and now she sits resting for a bit as we plan her future. <3

Here ends the acquisition and maiden journey story. Look forward to more #BiKronicles #REDiaries #RECLassic500Tan

Abeer et moi on our beloved baby!

 

NOTEBOOK Lovers

Don and Maxine Simpson in their last moments together.

“Cause I give you all of me. And you give me all of you…” Lyrics from ‘All of me’

by John Legend dedicated to his wife Chrissy Teigen

The stuff of love and legends could be summed up in music and stories over the years. There’s a reason why some relationships are termed fairytales and stories. Their rarity and essence is hard to digest and encompass by modern day folks who treat any form of love selfishly and with a *conditions applied approach.

I have much to write to the testimony of love that I have understood, read, witnessed and a fraction of which I have been lucky to experience. Yet it would never do absolute justice to the feeling and the actions that went behind expressing them. I think that love is easy to feel and toughest to express. Even when the opposite person knows you love them or how much you love them… they still never quite have the right idea of it and hence are never able to return that love at the same wavelength. Love is also often mistaken with lust, temporary insanity of the heart or available affection. Probably >50% of true love is never reciprocated or expressed in its entirety in a lifetime. I have no qualms telling Abeer I love him almost 8-10 times a day. But when expressing to my parents, I hesitate because we never quite said it out loud. Just embraced or looked at each other and understood so – assumed the other one did too.

I stumbled upon Gordon and Norma Yeager’s story of being married 72 years and passing away within an hour of each other, report in the Dailymail. Followed by Don and Maxine Simpson’ story of wedded bliss for 62 years and passing away within an hour of each other, report in the Mumbai Mirror. Both couples were in their 90s. I looked at their very simple stories of pre-depression, post-depression, pre and post WWII story and their seemingly simple lives. They probably never made headlines or even daily news in their lifetime save for the single most difficult achievement ever – commitment and love till death indeed did them apart, that they had promised each other. Their pictures speak a million words and the simplicity and expression of their love is what’s fascinating as it is devoid of today’s PDA and senseless nudity captured on each and every medium. I could share 1 meaningful kiss in a day and be content but there are those who must near-copulate in public to reflect the same. Gordon-Norma and Don-Maxine’s stories are strewn across social mediums and news media because of the impact their lives had. That it is indeed THAT rare to find that 1 person for you and MAKE it work till the end. Their lives was certainly not a rose garden for 60-70 years. And yet, here they are holding hands and gone already. I knew of only 1 such couple in real life. I knew them as Roy uncle and Aunty. Old Bengali couple in their 50’s or 60’s full of life and so darned beautiful. Roy uncle passed away thanks to his long term parallel love affair with alcohol and smoking. Aunty followed suite because honestly, I couldn’t solve the equation without them not being  together. I saw her days before she died and I knew then this was true love. I was less than 10 years old.

John Legend’s song ‘All of me’ has reached the #1 spot in my personal chartbusters bumping off Seal’s ‘Kiss from a Rose’ and 1 Republic’s ‘If I lose myself tonight’ among many others. It tugs the right strings and right notes as I well up each time I listen to it. That’s why I deliberately refrain from listening to it in public as I don’t wish to be a puddle of mush and have to explain why all of a sudden did I need to vent a few tears. The lyrics are powerful and simple ‘All of me and all of you’. Something we DO NOT do anymore. A part of us is at home, part at work, most part in our gadgets and personal effects, part in our relationships, part in ourselves, part divided over and over again everywhere. That’s why we never have 1 place and 1 person to give it all to. Selfishness and insecurity (acc. to me) being the primary factors to hold back and not let someone in your life and share and accept you as YOU ARE or not making enough effort to accept others as they are. It is the single most delightful, relief riddled and exhilarating feeling when you know how much YOU mean to SOMEONE else. And even more that the person felt open and comfortable enough to express it to you, leaving them open and vulnerable aka trusting you to treasure it than destroy it.

I intended to express the song and the 2 love stories. And here I am ~4 paras down. I just hope, wish, pray and beg for this level of rawness, openness and generosity of love in my life as did these people. And I hope that I do not have to stay back and watch it fade away.

Wishful thinking gal…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=450p7goxZqg

NOTA: None Of The Assholes

In the last few weeks, I’ve become increasingly ashamed of being a part of this country. Embarrassed that I am a citizen off and represented by a land that is ruled by dicks – the anatomical shaft is the foundation and the head is the ‘brains’ the so-called ‘intelligence’ that represents us and defines our future. Indeed as disgusting as that metaphor was… a 1000 times over is our constituency. I fail to understand why the economy of the busiest metro in the country should come to a financial standstill to elect a bunch of uneducated thug-like bastards who forgot which @#$% actually tunneled them out. The same members of our ‘gorrmint’ (government) that cannot even spell without spitting or stuttering.

I have no ounce of education, interest or even knowledge of the dirty politics in this country. The limit of my knowledge is that it’s dirtier than the sewers and public toilets. At least the latter can be cleaned at some point. We can’t say India has gone to the dogs. You see dogs are far beyond such an insult. India shouldn’t compare herself to such higher species or standards. She has been raped far more than any woman in this country has even been letched at on an average per day. And she will continue to be raped until a dictator comes into power and decides to be her sole rapist. That relationship, by the way, is known as marriage in this country. Men are usually born from rape (nonconsensual nonnegotiable marital rape that our constituency allows as per revised laws in 2014), watch rape as a normal act through their childhood and then grow up to incorporate the essence and activity of rape in everything they do. They rape the law, the people, the men, women and children, the education, the poor and needy and finally the common sense of the aam admi.

Let me understand one thing. If all the politicians want a Hindutva India or a Hindustan, then how the FUCK does no one say throw the Jews, Buddhists, Christians, Sikhs, Harijan, Achoots, North East Indians and god knows every cast/religion out. WHY ONLY MUSLIMS? Are you THAT uneducated, dear people that religion to you classifies as Muslim or all other etceteras that fall under the umbrella of Hindus?  Did your school system NOT teach you diversity? Or did you just go to the same as NaMo, Gandhis, Kejriwals, Ramdas, Didiins, Jayas, Sonias etc… Cuz even the good ones rise and are not protected by the filth of this constituency. It’s like when Joey Tribianni learnt that condoms are 99.9% safe and there is that 0.1% freaking chance…. that they AREN’T. In this case, the 99.9% is the probability of corruption vs the sad 0.1% of pure untouched common sense and goodwill.

After voting today, I sense that I will lose more friends and confidantes if I were to know their thought process or simply the choice they made. That’s why I decided that I would not divulge my vote and treat it to the level of secrecy the overtly ambitious Hollywood CIA movies make it to be. My vote is my sole discretion. It is my 1st time voting and in true full-blown fashion it’s come out in a year where the elections have taken this country by storm. There is revelry and rivalry running side by side.  Allegations vs farce promises are the key to winning the elections. Who accuses whom, who slings the most mud and better yet who satisfactorily justifies the mudslinging – inclusive of poultry, dairy, groceries and stationery items. There is yet no proof of development nor is there any promise for improvement. The public is torn between a peaceful coexistence in whatever state (hell) they are which is equivalent to fighting the demons they are familiar with vs those who are suddenly driven by extremism and have chosen some jackass who represents them or is constantly spewing extremism in full shameless view of the public. Here is where free speech is divided – free hate speech, which goes scot free against free sensible, debatable and challenged speech that has no bearing or room in a free democracy.  

I am judgmental of those who have voted for X, Y, Z candidates of the constituency. True that their knowledge maybe far reaching or reversely far limited than me. Or could be that the reasons I associate with their choices have nothing to do with the choices they made. Yet, I find myself in a dilemma as I rot in a nation that has enough money to level the ranks of the USA and yet prides itself in living like an upgraded 3^rd world nation. Those around me who think or advertise extremism, affect me. By some stroke of birth (I will not use the term luck), I was born in a Hindu family. I call that a ‘default’ setting. Thankfully, my family has allowed me to ‘customize’ my life, my thoughts and my practices independent of me being 1) a woman 2) a Hindu 3) an educated independent agonist individual. And we do not match on a few levels. Sadly, that is not the case elsewhere. You see either families and relatives directly control you and make choices for you until their demise or they give you a false sense of independence when really THEY are pulling the strings. Why must we be so influenced? Why don’t we ever question or argue or debate or justify? Why are we afraid of accepting and embracing the minority vote or the least favored choice? Why does someone else’s hatred, mistrust, experience, fallacy affect us without any base? Why is every Muslim neighbor a threat or a minority in societies, schools, offices etc.? Why do some Catholics tell others that all other religions are nil… zero… zilch (personal experience and anecdotes from convent life and an aunt)? Why does every damn Hindu think no end of themselves? Why do Buddhists and Sikhs think their religion has more spirituality and culture than any others? AGAIN these people represent the minority and not the majority. I hope the world and India understands this point.

Our teachers taught us to be independent, to question when in doubt, to take more answer sheets to present our views/answer and to accept, learn, train and work with one and all. Does that not continue outside our school gates? Do we just walk out of there, vomit all of it like an aspiring anorexic and then go back to that school gate only to reminisce the common sense that was once upon a time ‘lectured’ to us? Our history is full of kings, emperors and rulers who nurtured our nation as well as destroyed it beyond repair in a rare few cases. The majority were Hindu rajas. We don’t mope on their descendants and ‘‘teach them a lesson’’ for what their ancestors did. Nope. We don’t hunt down relatives and royal families and go for their jugular for something some random person in some cornerstone of history did. But we sure will watch acrid hate speeches, news and views and then spurn the neighbor who for the last 10+ years has peacefully coexisted with us. Smart move people. Real smart.

Modiji is revered yet for abandoning a wife who, as per news, has given up her favorite things including footwear till he is PM. Rahul = Congress and a heritage that thinks they are entitled to EVERYTHING India has. Kejriwal… my man Keju… what are you wasting time on? Where did you lose focus and die a familiar death? Mamata Didiin stop yelling. We’re not deaf! Sonia… You Italiano you… I really don’t care. Sheila Dik-shit – nuff said. Thackeray ji I’m a Mumbaikar and can’t speak fluent Marathi. Are your goons gonna burn a vehicle for that (incidentally belonging to some innocent Maharashtrian)… and I can go on about everyone in power. Some may say I am not out and up there doing the good and fighting the battles. No I'm not and have no inclination to. That doesn’t make me less concerned or bothered by it all.

We don’t need elections to spew violence. Every festival, event, demise and strike is followed by a warning to the aam admi “Go home soon” “There might be communal disturbance” “This area is sensitive” and it goes on. You bloody bigots. When FCB player Dani Aves was targeted by racist Villarreal fans who threw a banana at him, the world took to social media and posted similar pics to mark shame and protest against the act. I know some of my own Anti-Muslim, Brahmin-oholic stuck up friends who did the same. Seriously… who are you fooling? You're a so-called-proud Indian and yet you could give 2 hoots about domestic communal racism. But come international football stars and you couldn't be more favorable in their support. Remember this. We have the NaMos and the likes in full media view, using tax payers money to show their ugly faces on the cover pages of TOI. But the thing we must be vary of is the millions of NaMos, Sonias, Rahuls, Kejus etc living among us. Side by Side. Breath by breath. Those who have friends and pals from all communities, enjoy Easter Eggs, Kaju Katlis, Eid delicacies, Momos, etc. and yet would abandon or kill in a blink when the moment asked. These people live a peaceful coexistence but would turn their heads if their progeny loved someone from another caste or creed (recently a Dalit boy was beaten and hanged for falling in love with an upper cast girl: TOI). Have the guts or balls I say. If you are open minded BE OPEN MINDED. Don’t be a venn diagram with shades of grey. Not cool at all!!!

*This post is not meant to hurt the sentiment of any caste, creed, race, sect and whatever worldly divide we have invented. It is intended to reveal the inner bigot and hypocrite in us. To understand that as much as we hate others for being public and vocal about their baseless reservations and forcing others to follow suit... we are also intentionally or unintentionally following suit.

This video directed by Shlok Sharma is a stroke of minute-full genius. It stands for what I have expressed in my post. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hc5erdvB-4Y

Gone in 60…something! (The Fit post)

This is my burn post. Where I am burning all the bad and negative stuff. Ok FAT. That’s what I am burning. Sigh. A few weeks back, I was in Gokarna donning my 1^st ever bikini which I bought (btw) in Goa with the help of a friend 2-freaking-years ago. It hit me then. What exactly had held me back from donning it beyond my room and almost packing it for all trips? It never left the bag nor did it see decent sunlight. Moreover, when in Gokarna, despite being with Abeer, I was painfully shy to be tramping around in it so I camouflaged it.

To be fair I’m the kinda person who won’t dress inappropriately or in a way that suggests that I stuffed a whole turkey in a pig intestine. That was a gross but pretty accurate point. After some unfashionable disasters during my very confusing and ill-informed teenage years, I took dressing up pretty seriously. I don’t follow the latest fashion and neither am I a clothes horse. But I will wear what I fancy and ensure that I am not the subject of ‘hawww’ when I make an entry. I have been thus far successful. But my struggle with weight is the only thing that stands between my passion for dressing up and shutting myself in a loft above my bathroom heater. I am blessed with a man who adores my curves and never holds back from letting me know that. Perhaps that’s what also prompted me to take matters into my hands. See there is only so much you can praise your better half and then NOT look at someone else. So I don’t expect my partner to have ‘eyes only for me’ if I go from Monica Belluci to the pool lady in Good Luck Chuck. I felt physically ill, grumpy, not so attractive and pitiful living off previous compliments. Sure enough, I got curvier and thankfully didn’t look distasteful. But if I’d continued down this path, I sure as hell wouldn’t have liked myself. It was 6+ months since my surgery and it was high time, I did more than just walks and a few stretches. This was gonna need some real muscle.

So 1 fine evening, after another quip from Abeer of how I made him fat (indirectly), I took him to dinner and declared this was my last real indulgence – the Philadelphia cheesecake. For at least a while. He didn’t believe me. The next day I embarked on the famous GM Diet. I love this diet. It was about plato breaking, nourishment and no starvation. I am not a dietician but this diet made sense to me and was easiest to follow. I was also to combine it with some hardcore workout. And so I began. I gotta tell you it was tough. 1 day all fruits. 1 day all veges. Etc etc. it did get to me. Yes, I loved the wholesome crunchy fruits and veges that I gorged on. But being mentally aware that THAT was all I could have is the trick I had to dodge. So I cheated a lil. I added nuts and kokum sherbet to my day. I worked my ass off to lose the retained water and the comfortably nestled adipose tissues. It was time to get leaner and meaner. I thought of myself and Abeer. I thought of the times I was unfit and unhealthy and the times I envied a fit girl or a dress I dared not even try. To give my psyche more to agonize and squeeze in some motivation, I tried on my birthday dress and my Christmas dress. Both are body fitted pencil straight. You cannot cheat your shape in them. That’s all I needed. 1 fit me and made me look bad and 1 zipped up after 10mins of intense breath holding. The motivation was Abeer loved me in those dresses and there was a time not too long ago that I had fit in them. So it wasn’t impossible.

I cut carbs to the max but I recalled from the past how the skin and hair take the worst hit when you cut all cholesterol and fat. Wanted to look healthy and fit; not skinny, emaciated and ill. Wanted to retain the curves and look like a woman not a pencil. About the same time, Abeer rejoined the gym and hit it hard like no one’s business. After many weeks of trying to find a common workout ground we both realized, he was the lone training gym guy and I was the outdoorsy and group workout girl. We both loved fitness. That’s all we needed and we motivated each other. We share our workouts and how we feel post that. That way our meals are also aligned to not let the workout go waste – ok that is still WIP. Abeer was kind enough to align his Tues-Thurs workout with my capoeira classes which I restarted. It took much convincing and coaxing that I would not let myself burnout or get injured and I wouldn’t let capoeira overshadow our quality time together. It’s just a start but we’ll get there. Seeing him workout to better himself only made me push harder.

Couple of things I re-realized in the last 1 month. I was constantly checking the scales contrary to my own beliefs where inches trump kilos. That’s cuz my workout adds a lot of muscle weight so looking at the scale defeats my purpose. At the same time, for a woman that time of the month is a huuuggee variation. Water retention, more inches, hunger pangs and wavering stamina. All of these vanish on day 2 or 3. I feel like I drop a ton. Again weighing or measuring myself in these times was another waste – mental note. The body also shows nutritional deficiencies sometimes through cravings. So 1 must be aware of at least basic health science to know why 1s body acts a certain way. That was what I started paying attention to. Took advantage of the fact that I worked from home.

The result till now is that I’ve dropped a few inches. I feel lighter and fresher. Sleep, which usually evades me, was a natural outcome of the exhaustion. And mind you – sleeping burns fat. Just getting started was the deal. The rest was a natural course and there is no stopping from here on forward. I do workout for myself but the majority of my motivation comes from Abeer. He wanting to be fit pushes me and makes me wanna be a better person for him as well. Earlier I got carried away and pushed my body 10x beyond its capacity – a mistake I won’t repeat. No point in going ‘off season’ and then doing damage control. No conforming to other body shapes, types or health. They aren’t me and I am not them. I have also learnt to recognize the good pain/soreness vs the bad one. The one that makes you sick and you can barely walk. Not worth it. Everyone who asks me about anything related to fitness; I tell them 2 things: 1) I am no expert 2) Find your OWN workout. Not what others think you should do. I need to enjoy my activities so I can do them honestly and for longer. Else it feels worse than labor and wont give me my results.

Right now I’ve restarted after busting 2 knees and nearly damaging a lot of body parts. It took so much for me to calm down and find a wholesome, healthier approach to working out. This time around I am not waiting for my perfect body. I am just gonna get there and work at keeping it…. :D