The wait was long was patient
There was a forlorn lament
For not being on the roads for a while
But there was a reason now to smile
The destination was decided
And after mails debated
It was set over beer and yeast
To head for the east
Into the land of the rising sun
And the land of endless fun....
**From the Bhutanchal Buccaneers**
April 10 - April 22, 2011
It has been quite some time since I posted about my rides; And for good reason too. I had been missing out on many rides for reasons that can be simply put unfortunate or untimely. I don’t usually write about the weekend trips or the short getaways in my car. I try to keep this blog dedicated to only the annual long sojourns out of this mundane life. The moment I was out of projects and posted to the north eastern city of Guwahati, my mind went on an overdrive trying to plan a trip and get down on the roads as soon as possible, make up for lost tarmac or lost trips!
After debates over mails on the destination for our annual getaway, Kenny and I zeroed in on the North-East. The North- East presented another dilemma - places to explore. You see, the North East presents to you a plethora of places that you can just lose yourself into. Sikkim, Bhutan, Arunachal, Meghalaya, Assam – all these places have their own USP, their own enigma, their own charisma that is left only upon travelers to unravel to whatever extent possible. We were particularly keen on Sikkim, Bhutan and Arunachal since we keep hearing about these fabled places so often. We also knew that this trip would require a different squad of riders, people with very very similar riding dynamics and temperament and of course a sense of extreme comradeship. Keeping this in mind we kept the mail chain limited to a few recipients: Nishant Jha, Kenny, Gyan, Mrinal, Mrinaljeet, Vihans and later added Payeng Da.
So started the discussions over email on the probable destinations in a span of two weeks, the draft itineraries, the plan B’s and Plan C’s. After a few takes and retakes it was evident that clubbing Bhutan, Sikkim and Arunachal together would be nigh impossible in a span of 15 days. And after a lot of iterations we settled on Bhutan plus Arunachal. We would be starting from Guwahati, head towards Phuentsholing-the western most entry point of Bhutan, traverse from down below to Thimpu, then ride on to central Bhutan and finally exit from the point nearest to Assam – Samdhrup Jhonkar. After the exit from Bhutan, we were to proceed directly to Tezpur in Assam and head to Bhalukpong, the entry point of Arunachal from near Tezpur and then take it from there to Tawang. It was a well laid out plan, although we were a bit apprehensive about the terrain in Bhutan. I had feedback on the roads of Arunachal, so it was easy on us to estimate the travel time on bikes from point A to point B, but none of us had any first hand feedback on Bhutan. So we kept the daily distance to be traversed quite modest for the Bhutan leg of the trip, not exceeding more than 200 kms a day.
A trip without any hiccups is a trip truly blessed they say. Very true! The first issue we faced was with the railway ticket bookings. The Rajdhani bookings were showing no signs of getting confirmed even after a 15 day wait and it didn’t seem to fare any better after a month since it was Bihu time in Assam. So we decided to book flight tickets to Guwahati and not to rely on the train tickets alone. Well, it was done and it presented another dilemma – how to get the bikes to Guwahati. The reliable surface transporter GATI declined to ship the bikes to Guwahati. A problem faced by Payeng Da in Pune too. Oh, by the way, Payeng Da is based out of Pune and he was getting his bike from Pune all the way down to Guwahati. I suggested booking sleeper class tickets in the North East Express and have the bikes shipped in the luggage. This is what I had done when I got my bike to Guwahati last December and it had worked fine for me. So it was decided to take this route and proceed with the bikes to the railway station to get the bikes loaded. Payeng Da, in the meantime had taken the help of GATI to ship his bike till Kolkata and then load the bike onto a train for the remainder of the distance. The second shock came when the guy arrived at the railway station and found out that unconfirmed tickets did not warrant luggage to be booked! The guys, Mrinal Doley, Mrinajit Dutta and Kenny came back dejected from the railway station at near midnight. With no options left to explore and with little time to spare, it was time the bikes were dispatched through surface transport. The third hurdle was when almost all transporters refused to ship to Guwahati and even if they did, the charges were exorbitant. Even Jha’s acquaintances in Delhi were of no help.
Finally, Kenny stumbled upon one India Packers and Movers. Almost on the verge of desperation now, the bikes were hastily ferried off with the mover. Even that wasn’t all hunky dory. Many comic incidences happened even while the bikes were being loaded onto the truck! Some very alert neighbor of Doley thought the bikes were being stolen and shipped off to someplace!! Never knew Delhi people cared about what’s going on around them!! Well, this was an eye-opener for the guys in Delhi!
After what seemed to be a never ending ordeal, the four bikes (Gyan had also come down to Delhifrom Panipat to ship his bike together with the others from Delhi) were finally handed over to the Movers and Packers on the 31st of March. The spokesperson for India Packers and Movers gave us continued reassurances that we’d have the bikes in Guwahati well before we were to venture out. I still curse that guy. Payeng Da had , in the meantime, shipped his bike to Kolkata through GATI and had one relative arranged to take delivery of the bike and parcel it on the train from Kolkata to Guwahati. All we had to do was wait. And we did, very very patiently. Till it was the 7th of April, just 3 days shy of the start of our trip and with no signs or news of the bikes as yet, we were getting impatient. Turned out that India Packers and Movers, the bastards they are, had offloaded our bikes with Om Logistics and Om Logistics on their part took their own sweet time and had dispatched the bikes only on the 3rd of April! Their online tracking showed that the expected date of arrival at Guwahati was 11th of April, which sent us scurrying back to our excel sheets and online maps to try to readjust the itinerary to account for this shift in the timeline. Starting on the 12th would mean having to cut short part of Central Bhutan and make an exit earlier than Samdhrup Jhonkar or giving a major city a miss. I had kept passes and hotel bookings made for the Arunachal leg of the trip, which meant we could only try permutations on the Bhutan leg of the trip. Alternate itineraries were kept ready till we called on Om Logistics and found out that the bikes would be here only around 13th. This lent us a severe blow as our well laid out plans were in shambles and we were reckoning on how to go about it.
Before we knew it, it was 8th and the guys had to fly out on the 9th. The early morning spicejet flight flew the guys to Guwahati on the wee hours of the 9th and I was fashionably late in picking them up from the airport. Well, I am to blame partially. I had thought the flight would land only around 8:30 AM and it would take another 15 minutes for the guys to collect the baggage and come out of the arrivals. The only hitch – I woke up late. It was Gyan who woke me up at 8 AM and reminded I had to go pick up the guys. Well, I rushed, and I would have made it in time had it not been for the flight landing a bit early and had it not been for a diversion on the highway to the Airport.
Anyway, I got the guys back home and while they went about getting fresh, Gyan dropped in at my place and before I knew it, they had taken out beers I had stocked the fridge with for their arrival. I had to go to office and so I left them to rest telling them I would come for lunch and we would have lunch together with Payeng Da.
Lunch was a start-off party at Café Hendrix where the beer was flowing freely and pork dishes going on the fly. It was going to be dry days for the next two days owing to the elections on the 11th and we took good measures to ensure we were well-stocked up.
Post lunch we went about discussing what we were going to do about the bikes. With the bikes still in transit it meant we were to just sit and wait and waste precious trip days. All of a sudden, almost all of us decided we go to Bhutan by car and not waste any of our hard-earned, hard-to-get leaves and leave off, as planned originally, the next morning i.e. on the 10th. We took votes and except for Payeng Da and Gyan’s Uncle, all of us were game. I already had my car tanked up and was raring to go. So it was decided we would drive all the way to Madarihat where we have an Indian Oil Guest House and then hire a cab to Thimpu. I went to make calls to arrange for the guest house and it was done in a jiffy.
It might be a good time now to introduce the trippers that were part of the line-up and their steel horses. The Bhutanchal Buccaneers are:
1. Gyan Moshahari, aka Fukku, on his red Karizma
2. Mrinal Doley, aka The Monk, on his awesome RE Classic 500
3. Mrinaljit Dutta, aka John Abraham, on his “plastic/pseudo metal” Avenger 200
4. Satadal Payeng aka “the biker next door” on his P220 dts-fi and later the 150 pulsar classic
5. Diptinder Chhabra ,aka Kenny on his Bullet Electra 4 speed
6. Gyan’s Uncle, not aka but AKB (Ajit Kumar Brahma) on his fiery R15
7. And I, the “tour operator” on my P200 dtsi
But the trip to Bhutan included only five people on board, Payeng Da and Gyan’s Uncle preferring not to take the car. And so it was decided, the rest of us would start off the very next morning and head towards the border town of Madarihat and flag off the trip! To mark this, we opened up a bottle of single malt – The Famous Grouse and had the evening dedicated to it!!
Here we go then....
Guwahati to Madarihat:
John was the “dependable” guy who woke all of us up at 5 in the morning and got us ready. We had packed the evening before and we had to just take our baths and hop on to the car and get going. We started off at around 0730 hours after collecting cash from the ATMs. You see, although Indian currency is legal tender in Bhutan, notes above INR 500 are not. So we were trying to coax 100 rupee notes from the ATMs. After that we took off on the road leading us to the Airport and took the amazingly green and smooth roads towards the border of Assam. I wasted no opportunity in stretching my fiesta’s legs and was doing good pace till I noticed a white polo/vento in my rearview mirror. It was closing up on me and I didn’t know whether it was the polo or the vento. Judging by the way it was able to keep up with the 120 kmph I was doing on my fiesta, I deduced it had to be the 1.6 Vento. Only when did it furiously overtake me that we found out it was a 1.6 polo – the hot hatch of the country as of now. Cracking car it is!!
Now, I had breakfast arranged at my cousin’s friend’s place somewhere 110 odd kilometers from Guwahati. We were there at around 0830 hours and were greeted warmly by my cousin and her friend. They had an array of delicacies ready for breakfast, not to mention some heavy stuff like pooris and pork and rice beer even!! The guys were all game for the rice beer. I wasn’t too keen because I had to drive and I shook my head in a “no” motion when asked for second helpings, only to find everyone around me was nodding their heads in a “yes” motion!!
The guys probably felt comfy at that place because they even lapped up the idea of having some pork and rice beer packed for the rest of the trip. This might have to do with the fact that they thought they were my relatives. Only after the trip did they realize that I didn’t know them at all and it was my first visit to their place as well!! But nevertheless they did load a full tiffin box of pork and a full 3 litres of rice beer in a milk container in my car – much to my disdain. I knew the beer would be finished well before we had covered 100 kms, and I would be left out cause I was the one doing the driving.
After a heavy breakfast, or rather brunch, we set forth again at around 0945 hours, fully laden with Bihu gifts, pork and rice beer and headed towards Alipurduar.
I was right about the rice beer. We had hardly done 30 kms when the guys decided to crack open the milk container. Kenny was the designated bar tender and I heard the order from behind “ Drive steady, we are making pegs”. I did get a few sips from Gyan’s cup though, so not much of complaints from the driver.
We were making good time and were coming across amazingly good roads, mildly hilly terrain and subtle twisties. At one particular stretch I suddenly felt the power drop in my car. I turned to see the console if there was anything wrong, and I could see a yellow light on the cluster that usually is off during drives. Still driving I asked Gyan on the passenger seat to go through the manual and try to find out what the light meant. We found out it indicated a problem with the “powertrain”, and all of us went on trying to find out what could it mean. Engine fault, oil pressure, coolant temperature etc all had their own warning lights and so we were totally miffed at what “powertrain” problem could actually mean. I wasn’t able to do more than 90 kmph and pick up was coming dead slow. So to cool it off I stopped the car on the roadside to let the engine rest for a while. This was also utilized by the guys for the suttas and the milk container was taken out and Kenny went about serving the beer to others – right by the road!
In the meantime I had called up Ford and explained of the problem to which I was answered that the car had to be analyzed to pinpoint the problem. They suggested I disconnect the battery terminals for 15 minutes and try again. We limped to the next town and bought a spanner of suitable size. By that time I had turned off the A/C to lower the load on the engine and to do a few more kilometers to the hour. Fortunately when we gave the engine some rest, the light went off and we got back full power for a while, but I didn’t try to push it and kept making a modest 80 kmph.
Soon we were approaching Bauxirhat, the Assam- West Bengal border and we were caught in a vicious jam of endless trucks and trailers trying to make their way into and out of Assam. I took the car off road, trying to pass as many trucks as possible till time and again we had to stop because we ran out of even off-road space. We lost a good couple of hours in that log jam. We were literally inching our way forward, till some good truck driver showed a tiny village road that bypassed the entire border. As luck would have it, my car was bang next to that road and we were thinking that had we had passed that road, it wasn’t even possible to back up and take the exit. Truly thanking our stars, we took that off road yet again till we came upon some paved village road and then we joined the highway after the border after a 40 minute drive. I forgot to mention that in the traffic jam, the powertrain warning light went off as mysteriously as it had come on and we were soon galloping on 102 horses towards Alipurduar. Since we were back to full power, we decided not to fiddle with the battery and leave it alone.
We did come across some enthusiastic direction givers who kept on showing us directions even after we had thanked them and moved on! We reached a non-descript town called Toofan ganj and took a road less taken , and boy – did we come across some smooth piece of tarmac! I was doing 90 kmph through that narrow road, it was that good. Finally after some more directions we were at Alipurduar, where we stopped again at an ATM and took off promptly after that.
The drive from Alipurduar to Madarihat was also on some good stretches of highway and some particularly nasty potholes. After what seemed to be an unexpectedly long long drive, we finally came across the turn that took us to our guest house. We bought some snacks for the evening and made way to the guest house some 6 kilometers away.
We were shown into our rooms at the guest house and as soon as we got fresh, the evening “mehfil” started with Blender’s Pride and the pork we had from my cousin’s friend’s home. Dinner was also served after a while and in between that time I made arrangements for a taxi to come and pick us up in the morning and take us to Phuentsholing the next morning. Not wasting much time, we hit our beds not too long after dinner.
Day 2: April 11th
Madarihat-Phuentsholing-Thimpu
Off to the land of the thunder dragon:
The morning of April 11th saw us getting up at an early 0500 hours. The taxi that would take us to Phuentsholing had been called in to report at 0730 hours. So we had our breakfast and waited for the taxi. While we waited, Gyan found a volleyball at the community centre and immediately started playing football with it. Kenny and Doley joined in too while Dutta chose to play the photographer.
The taxi arrived after a while and we all piled in. The guys made wisecracks at me since the taxi was a Maruti Omni and I had told these guys that the Prado was the default vehicle in Bhutan and ever other vehicle in Bhutan is either that or a Hyudai SUV. Having to be content with that we sped off towards Phuentsholing, making another stop at an ATM on the way. We made entry at the border town of Phuentsholing and were officially in Bhutan!
The driver directed us to the immigration office from where we had to obtain our Inner Line Permits. Immediately after taking our stuff from the taxi, I pointed out to the guys a wine shop where I had brought my first whiskey from Bhutan from my previous trip to Phuentsholing! We entered the Immigration office and were immediately accosted by a guard who handed us blank forms to be filled up. When he saw that only two of us carried passports, he informed us that in the case of the others without passports or voter id cards, the ILPs will have to be obtained from the Indian Consulate Office. Still he asked us to try our luck with the officials. So we filled up the forms and queued up to the window where the applications were being received. In the meantime Gyan and Doley had come across and taxi driver willing to take us to Thimpu and also take care of the local trips in Phuentsholing.
Our fears came true when we were told by the Bhutanese official that for people without passport or voter id card, a mandate has to be issued from the Indian Consulate. Off we went to the Indian Consulate and came across a serious looking person at the window. Doley and I surmised we weren’t in for a totally smooth transaction and we were proved true. Out came a list of government orders or whatever when Gyan mentioned working for a PSU along with the proclamation that my passport was fake and so on and so forth. After lots of coaxing and cajoling, the man finally gave in and reluctantly signed on the documents. We rushed back to the Immigration office and resubmitted the forms and were asked to come back after an hour to collect the permits. It was almost noon by that time and we decided to get our currencies changed to Ngultrum and have our lunch. The taxi driver, a friendly Druk citizen by the name of Kinley, took us to a departmental store where a nice (and nice looking too!) girl exchanged our 11k into Ngultrum. We wandered into a nearby restaurant “Zen” for our lunch and before we could finalize on the main menu, beers and the veritable accompaniment pork were ordered for the bunch! We cautioned each other however that we still had to get our permits and we shouldn’t get drunk or carry the smell of beer into the Government office.
The meal was sumptuous to mention the least. One of the best fried rice I have had in many years I must add. We could actually munch on pieces of meat unlike having to search for microscopic chunks in conventional restaurants. Having finished lunch we headed for the office yet again only to find out that it was closed for lunch. With a little over an hour to kill, Kenny and I decided to head to a nearby park while the rest walked over to the Indian side to have a smoke. Smoking is banned in Bhutan and can attract severe punishments including a six year jail term. We gathered together after a while and headed for the office and wait there instead. We waited patiently, a little too patiently. Kenny, Dutta and Doley had happily fallen asleep in a bench, lulled into serenity by the calm office, the heavy lunch and the potent Druk beer. The office was officially open at 1400 hours and Gyan and Doley went about making pleading faces at the nice (again, very nice looking!) lady at the counter and were assured of the permits within a few minutes. One thing we noticed in the office is that the people of Bhutan, ladies included, like to chew on bubblegums a lot.
We received the permits shortly after and expressed our sincerest gratitude to the officials. The officials there are fast, friendly, computer savvy and some of them are even funny. There are no unnecessary delays on their part and no dilly-dallying. This became more evident when we had gone to the Indian Consulate office and the difference in the working culture became acutely apparent. We headed to our patiently waiting Kinley, not forgetting to thank the guard of the office on our way out.
Dutta’s tryst with the never-ending butt jokes started when all of our birthdays were printed the same on the permits. You see, technically Dutta is the wisest of all of us. That’s read as he was the eldest among us. With the permits making us even-aged, it was like Dutta had been given a shave-off from his age advantage and he was young again! The wise one among us was young again! Hallelujah!
Once armed with the permits, we hopped into our taxi – a Maruti Versa, and set off towards Thimpu. It was only after we sped off on the hills that I truly heaved a sigh of relief – we had our permits. I was really wary of the Indian Consulate Office. I did use the toilet of that office though and thanked the officer profusely. His disposition had changed dramatically, surprisingly. Don’t know why but he was quite cheery as he waved me off bidding a happy journey!
The journey presented us with stunning roads, twisters and coasters, tarmac and hills couple that up with Nat Geo stuff panorama and it had us gawking at each other. All of us had the same thoughts running like crazy on our minds – if only we were on our bikes, or even if we were in my fiesta. These thoughts made us curse Tiwari from India Packers and Movers all the more. The more we went into dragon territory the more I was enchanted with this place. I was sitting in the front and chatted up with Kinley, squeezing info from him on what is this land called Bhutan. A few bits gathered from Kinley: “Hello” goes by the word “Kuzumbo”, “ Good Luck” is “ Tashi Delek” and more importantly “Boy” is “Boo” (yes, you’ve read it right) and even more importantly “Girl” is “Boom”. Some more tid bits: Pema is the most common name for Girls in Bhutan, while for the boys its Tashi, the indigenous language is “Zonkha” and people have a happy-go-lucky outlook on life. The people tend to be simplistic too, with very simplistic marriage rituals – boy/girl falling in love-girl going to stay at the boy’s place-parents accepting girl-priest marrying them off….. I really wish life were as simple elsewhere.
People also have this affinity towards alcohol. The government has issued an order that bars and pubs should remain open till 2300 hours, up from the 2200 hours earlier and any defaulter attracted penalty and foreclosures!! But they are well-behaved; never saw a drunkard in our entire trip. Must have to do with the strict law and the law enforcers. I was more and more keen on learning more, so I went about asking about jobs in Bhutan and if “Booms” were hard to find in Bhutan, to settle down, to lead a life there. This lead to intense leg-pulling from the rear passengers and we had one of the most merry rides-make that drives.
We took ample shots at Dutta, who has a very remarkable affinity for sleep and the feline pussy cat. Every now and then someone would pop the question-“Is Dutta awake?” Gyan and Dutta were the sleepyheads for this leg of the trip and the butt of almost all jokes. I wasn’t too far behind in the stakes though.
We also took small breaks in between to relieve ourselves and the guys puffed some drags at cigarettes furtively, always on the lookout for people on the road. Nobody wanted any trouble with the cops, especially since we knew they were honest and they drove Toyota Hiluxes. Come on , nobody messes with that kind of cops…..except maybe when they are on Nissan Patrols or Jeep Cherokees or Dodge Chargers!!
We kept resuming our journey after one or two stops and the only time we didn’t call for a stop and we did stop was when Kinley showed us the highest point on the Phuenthsoling- Thimpu road at 8350 feet above MSL. We alighted from the taxi, stretched our legs, posed for some few photos and Gyan wasted no time in lighting up another fag. Jayanti, please take note. The official usherer is Gyan, and not us “innocent” guys!!! We are the good guys and we take the blame on behalf of Gyan!!
Kinley led a spirited drive for the remainder of the journey. It was dusk and lights were turned on. The solar powered prayer wheel mounted on the dash of the versa was slowly losing steam and so was the solar powered “sun flower” that we see with vendors on Delhi traffic junctions. Finally we came across this red and golden gate that boldly said “Welcome to Thimpu City”, the gate made even more glorious by the headlights shining on it. We took a couple of shots and then moved on. As soon as we did the narrow road suddenly turned into a smooth four lane highway. We were hard pressed to actually take in the fact that this hill station could actually have four lane roads. The bright city lights beckoned us and we were squirming with childish delight. Gyan had painted a rosy picture of Bhutan’s night life and night clubs and we were raring to go wild! More sights were to follow that baffled us no end. Thimpu had flyovers!! Oh man oh!
It was almost 2000 hours and it was totally dark and we reached one of the lanes dotted with hotels. We had to look for a place to shack up for two days and Kinley took us to one of the few hotels. Luckily for us, the first one we hit off seemed to be a nice cosy place with nice friendly staff and nice (yet again nice looking ) Boom staff!!! Kinley seemed to be familiar with the place- one Hotel Choephal Norkye, but one thing I liked about him was the fact that he didn’t expect us to like the rooms but still was ready to take us around the place till we found something we liked. We hastily unloaded our stuff from the taxi and dumped them in the rooms, paid off Kinley and thanked him, and yet again he gave us his number and asked us to call him if we ever needed something. It suddenly stuck us that the next day being a Tuesday was a dry day observed in Bhutan and we didn’t want to go dry. So we asked him to take us to a wine shop so that we could stock up. The streak of dry days wasn’t letting go of us, be it in Guwahati or be it in Bhutan. Funny .
And Kinley did get us whiskey, only thing it wasn’t from a wine shop. It was from a grocery store! Oh yes, grocery stores stock whiskey right next to essential commodities like cerelac! We bought one of the most expensive ones – K5 and a more modest Courier Special at INR 730 and 380 respectively and headed back to our rooms
Gyan had us all charged up with his “knowledge” on the night life of Bhutan and we were all charged up for a night on the town. Kinley had also shown us the way to some pubs. But our very own guide fell sick and wanted to retire for the night. Seems he felt nauseous and wanted to sleep it off. So it left the four of us to wander about the streets and enjoy the views Thimpu provided us with. The first thing I noticed or rather tried to notice was the Booms. They are cute I tell you. Fair, no blemish anywhere, long straight hair, petite and there you have it. The perfect “homely” girl that you’d want to settle down with. We wandered down the street for a while, enjoying the chill in the wind, gawking at the vehicles, at the Booms and went about looking for a pub to chill out at. Bhutan is predominantly SUV country. The default SUVs being the Land Cruiser Prado and the awesome Hilux with a fair bit of Santa Fe’s and the all new Tucson thrown in fair measure. Needless to say, Toyotas, Hyundais and Marutis rule the roost there with some Renaults and the odd Fords seen here and there. We also came across the all new Sonata which looks and sounds smashing! Pity that in India we have to be content with the elsewhere-discontinued Sonata Embera.
Unfortunately our hotel street did not present us with much pubs and having left with little choice to wander about more or to head into a nearby pub, we went in for the latter. It was called Tiger Pub, named after the famed Singaporean beer. Dutta has a special affinity for Tiger Beer as we found out in due time. I think Dutta has an affinity for anything that’s related to the feline kind! It was a karaoke bar and was somehow not too crowded. We were disappointed cause we were on the lookout for people to mingle with. More disappointment came in the way of the pub not having anything but Tiger beer and that too in 330 ml cans. With no options left to explore we ordered for four and asked for the snacks menu to cater to our growling bellies but the lady serving us drinks informed us politely that there were no snacks. Confused at first we asked again for something to eat to which we were told the pub did not serve any eatables! Well, that was a culture shock for us guys who are used to loads and loads of chaknas with our whiskies! Dejected, we decided to finish off our cans and head back to our good old hotel which had a bar of its own. Well, hardly any surprise since all the restaurants we came across in Bhutan served alcohol. Once seated in the confines of the hotel restaurant at a table we ordered beers and luckily the bar had more choices to offer. We all homed in on a new beer to us called HIT, and it was a hit all right; a bit sweet but nice, real nice. Kenny was all for the spicy concoction called Ima Datschi – a combi of red hot red chilies and cheese. But the serving girl suggested otherwise and Kenny was content with a milder version Iwa Datschi – cheese and potatoes. Needless to say , Doley, Dutta and I went in for anything in pork they had to offer. The restaurant guy was a real friendly guy who paid good attention to all we wanted and got them for us and the serving was done by girls, some demure looking girls, two of which entered my room right after we checked in. I intended to include them as bragging rights!!
We had made a plan of visiting Paro, the land of the Tiger’s Nest the next day and decided we’d better hit the bed after a couple of round of beers. Dinner was served without much ado and with a satisfied stomach and bladder, we made it to our rooms. Gyan was fast asleep by then and we also wasted no time in getting cosy in our beds. The room where I and Kenny stayed overlooked the street below and I spent some time peeking out the window to finally let the feeling sink into me that we were finally in Bhutan. Though not on bikes, we definitely were in a fabled land.
Thimpu-Paro-Tiger’s Nest- Thimpu
The sun rises pretty early in Thimpu or so we found out. I was awake by the time it was 0630 hours. Kenny, in his usual flair, was up and awake before that and went about his duties of waking the others up. Gyan by now was feeling dandy too. For some reason we decided to have breakfast at some other restaurant and by 0730 hours we were out of the hotel and looking for some avenues to have our breakfast. I was particularly keen on a café that served conventional coffees and also offered free wi-fi. Dutta wisely suggested that the amount we spent on the coffee would easily cover breakfast at another restaurant plus surfing charges at an internet café.I sheepishly grinned letting him know he was right but I was still keen on trying that place out. To our dismay almost all restaurants were still yet to open and we went about looking in vain for quite a few cafes. But all of them seemed to open at 0900 hours and we still had a lot of time to kill before that.
Sense prevailed over us and we headed into a small snack shop and to our relief saw some buns and noodles and found out they were serving tea. Doley was immediately mistaken for a Monk and the “ elderly woman behind the counter in a small town” started talking to him in Zonkha and a bewildered Doley even started nodding his head in response, adding to the confusion!!
Tea and sweet buns were ordered for all of us and then Gyan ventured over to the counter to check out what seemed like pork. Very eagerly Gyan and Doley ordered for a dish and it was then that the elderly lady’s daughter informed us it was beef. Still raring to go, we ordered for one plate and then the finer details of the dish came up. It wasn’t just beef, it was lungs of the animal. Not to be put off, Dutta eagerly ordered for one and the guys digged in. I wasn’t particularly in the mood for beef early morning, so I gave it a pass. Not Dutta though – he was hell bent on finishing the stuff even though his side of the table looked like a battle ground! Coming to Dutta – we all realized through this trip that Dutta has an affinity for the feline species of the animal kingdom. So much so that he even called a Dalmatian Pussy in the small café!!
The dog was actually called Russo by the elderly lady, but our icon decided to add glamour to that name and rechristened it Pussy!!
We paid up, offered our thank yous and headed towards the taxi stand for a ride to Paro. We were told by Kinley that it would take 150 bucks each to get us there from Thimpu to Paro. We arrived at the taxi stand not too far from our hotel to find out that if we wanted to go on a shared basis we’d have to wait till the taxi filled up completely and that meant waiting for another 2 persons to turn up. It was getting trifle impatient for us and then suddenly out of nowhere one taxi fellow offered to take us around for 2k to Paro, the nearby places and back. We would have spent 1500 bucks anyway and having a guaranteed means of coming back to Thimpu didn’t seem like a bad offer. So we went off about it, but then some other driver offered the same and turned out to be a friend of the present driver. So we hopped cars and off we went for the hour long drive to Paro.
The roads were inviting to say the least. The driver also turned out to be friendly. Heck, everyone is friendly in Bhutan. Its one of the very very few countries where Indians are actually liked. The people there like to think of India and Bhutan as siblings. A fact evident with the presence of Indian Army, Indian Oil and our very own Border Roads Organisation. We picked up on Bhutan from where we had left off with Kinley, gathering more info on this place were roaming in now. I went about asking about jobs in Bhutan and the car prices. I even tried to find out how much would a second hand pajero cost in Thimpu, what it takes to patafy a Boom and get married, the house rentals, the works. Bhutan is primarily a monarchy but they do have elections for governmental posts, but it is the King who calls the shots and we were told
the King is a very young and pro-people person, something very evident from numerous photos of him at almost every shop and corner. There are no import duties on cars there, so one gets a Prado for a measly 17 lacs and so on. There was once taxes levied upon the cars, but it turned out to be so unpopular it had to be withdrawn. The King is also very approachable it seems – any one with a genuine grievance can make an appeal and meet the King. Our very own taxi driver had been to the Royal Palace with a consortium of taxi drivers and had high tea at the Palace and came back with a gift of the traditional dress right from His Majesty himself.
The road to Tiger’s nest took us through the Paro airport and we could see an Airbus coming is for a landing. It was pretty wild to see the airplane making those banks among the mountains and line up for the relatively short runway at the Paro International Airport.
We were soon in Paro and we crossed the town taking in the amazing views that the town provided us with. I was particularly amazed by the girls and it was frustratingly difficult to figure out whether the girls were cuter or whether it was the babies!! It seemed one was beautiful by default – just get born in Bhutan and you are one beauty without blemish. All these girls have this innocent look on their faces that tend to melt you right away. Stay for a longer time and I bet you’ll be in for it – hook, line and sinker.
Soon we were at the base of the trek towards Tiger’s nest and it was evident from the plethora of cars and vans parked there that Tiger’s Nest received its fair share of visitors any given day. Our driver parked the taxi and said he’d wait for us till we finished our trek, which he assumed would take 90 minutes one way. We corrected him saying that we will take more than that. Sometimes our premonitions turn out dead right you see. There were some beverage stands right at the base, and each of us stocked up with a small bottle of litchi juice and 500 ml of good old water.
I was apprehensive right away when we saw the monastery from far away. It was perched on a sheer cliff and it gave you the shudders just to think about living in it. Well then, we started on our journey to the much much revered Tiger’s Nest aka Taktsang Monastery. Ten steps into the incline and I blurted out I was dead beat, much to the guffaws of the guys. We did have to soldier on, so we toiled on. The trek was torturous to put it in mild words. Well, guys of “normal” health might find the trek a bit steep but nevertheless very much doable. With us it was a different story altogether. I can’t say much about Kenny but he seems to have some extra juice in him with those titanium re-enforcements. The surgeon might have put in some terminator kind of battery thingee inside him I guess. But Gyan and I were struggling to scale the narrow mountain trek. We were out of breath and no sooner had we covered some teeny weenie distance, our bottles were broken open and we started sipping on the juice to gather some sugary energy. It was like nature was telling us on the face to either shape up or ship out. Respect. Respect.
The trek is full of prayer flags stretched from one end to the other, the ends seeming to start off anywhere and everywhere. Buddhist people believe the wind carries the prayers on the flags. They burn the prayer flags when they get dirty. I had got some prayer flags from Spiti valley. Still haven’t hung them anywhere – too scared they will get dirty and I’ll have to burn them off!! They are beautiful, things of peace and calm and the sight of those prayer flags fluttering in the wind carries a sense of tranquil on its own. There are prayer flags even on tree-tops , right at the apex and the branches are too thin to be supporting any man’s or child’s weight. So we were left wondering how the flags could have been masted on the tree-tops. Gyan, the knowledgeable guy, came to the rescue. He announced that when the tree was small, say 20 years back, the flags were tied onto the top and as it grew, carried the flags with it. Feasible, very feasible we told him – in outright mockery! In the end sense prevailed and it was deduced that Doley, the long lost monk, had tied this flag on top of the tree and now he was back to his roots or rather tree tops!!
The trek seemed never ending to us. In this while I would be stopping for quite some time, taking my own sweet time to click pics and just stare into the distance and get lost in thoughts. I also had found a way to get some respite from the climb. I would climb some 20-25 steps and then take a breather for about 10 seconds and would start off again. This seemed to be working on me and was able to gain some lost ground but lost it all again when I stopped for some more time off on my own.
Fortunately, there were watering holes en-route and they were gushing with cool spring water straight from the mountains- clean and clear as day. The water also tasted extremely good, a fact pointed out by Kenny. We filled up our depleting bottles and continued on. Came across some other trekkers on the way and would wait to chat up for a while before we caught our breath and resumed the ordeal. Finally, we came across a clearing that was just about halfway to the monastery. There was a cafeteria and everyone we had met on our way had suggested we take in some refreshments before embarking on the trek once again. We weren’t about to argue with that or rather we had no strength to veto the suggestions and we headed for the Taktsang Café – a restaurant run by the Bhutan Tourism Corporation. A very neat and well laid out café, looking straight out into the Taktsang monastery. We pulled up chairs and ordered for tea and biscuits since there was only a veg buffet lined up and were on a full non –veg diet through the entire trip! Everyone took their time to soak in the views, to take photos of the unending subjects the environ provided us with, to just sit on the chair and reflect on whatever came into your thoughts. I hi-jacked Dutta’s iPod touch and sat up nice and easy on a chair overlooking the monastery at the distance, set the iPod on “don’t panic” by Coldplay and had one of the most badly needed calm moments in recent times.
It was around noon and we had started an hour back and we weren’t even halfway there. So we decided not to linger our asses and limbs there and walk on, as one would say “keep walking”! Funny, I swear at that time everyone had taken up a resolution to either cut down radically on alcohol or abhor from cigarettes. Resolutions at tiring times are quickly forsaken as we did ourselves that very evening!!The monastery would look near at some point and again far away from another, but always looked formidable and inaccessible, something achievable only with the grittiest of determination. It worked like a pep talk and did wonders to hasten the pace.
We carried on nevertheless, the vegetation growing dense and the light growing low. There were clouds closing in and at some points of time it had actually drizzled. We finally arrived at a vantage point where we could see the monastery in all its glory. We chatted with a guide who happened to be providing his services for some far-eastern tourists. We could finally have a group shot taken with the tiger’s nest at the backdrop and we didn’t miss that chance at all. It was lunch time for the monastery and it was closed for an hour, but there were some other places on the way to explore like the friendly guide informed us. From that vantage point it was a steep flight of seemingly never ending stone steps, sometimes frighteningly dizzy and always dead tiring! There was a waterfall on the way that seemed to be falling from a cliff side that was nearly 90 degrees vertical – I’m not fibbing here because when you look up to see the fall of water all you see is the clear blue sky.
I lingered on to take snaps of the place while the guys climbed atop one of the rocks near the fall and just sat about enjoying the cool air that was in the vicinity of the waterfall. I too wanted to join them and tried to circumnavigate some rocks and get onto the same rock. Even through my pair of woodlands I could make out that the rocks were stone cold. Icy.
There was another temple situated right in a crevice between the two towering mountains and at a place only the Buddhists could have thought of building a temple. Same goes for the monastery. The very fact that there are cracks in the face of the cliff that the monastery is built on top of makes your Goosebumps perk up and your hair prickle. Some of us went to check out the cave temple, while I decided to cool my heels. We all regrouped after a while and proceeded towards the entrance of the Tiger’s Nest. The entry gate was a modest door. It had to be. There was absolutely no space to build a grand one. We went further up the steps till we came upon the entrance….finally, after a 2 hour arduous and ass-whipping trek, make that a mountain scaling. There was a large board with some rules noted down and the ones that mattered to us were that we wouldn’t be able to carry our cameras or camcorders. The monastery had just opened up and there were three guards to put our belongings in safe custody over the counter. We deposited our bottles, cameras, mobiles, everything except our wallets and got ourselves frisked by one of the guards. The guard that stashed away our stuff felt generous and friendly and decided to take us on a guided tour of the monastery. We weren’t complaining and we followed him like puppies, asking questions whenever we found it a bit difficult to understand his very very druk accented Hindi. We were taken everywhere of the monastery, every nook and corner, every stupa, every crevice, every temple, every holy water hole – thanks to the guard’s enthusiasm. The guard also didn’t lose the chance to make wisecracks at Dutta asking him time and again whether he was ok cause he looked tired and disheveled thanks to his unkempt hair and unshaven face! This started one of the major chains of the great leg pulling of the awesome Dutta aka John throughout the entire trip.
We went to the main temple and there we had to take our shoes off. We were allowed to keep our socks on though. The floor of the entire monastery must have been clocking something like 5-6 degrees and I had a hard time keeping my feet at the same place for more than 10 seconds, always looking for a warmer spot to place my feet on. We offered our prayers in all earnest. That place brings a sense of reverie, a deep sense of respect and our minds automatically tune into a no-nonsense mode. We were also taken to the cliff side of the monastery where tales of old mythology were narrated by the guard. Looking down the cliff side presents an immensely awe-inspiring view in itself. The monastery is perched right upto the farthest inch of the flat space on the edge of the cliff and it looked fragile, yet boldly making its presence felt. A culmination of opposites.
We wondered with awe as to what could have inspired someone to build such a formidable temple at such a formidable height and through trials and tribulations that we can only hope to conjure up in our wildest imaginations. As if that was not enough, the guard pointed upwards towards the very peak of the adjoining mountain and there was another small temple dedicated to a goddess. It was called temple of heaven and very rightly so. One had to look at it to really gauge the sheer spirit of the human devotion that led to the building of such a temple. No amount of space-tech photography will be able to capture the essence of the sight. The temple itself is formidable and we were left wondering how frightening the path to it might be when the guard informed us that there is a narrow ledge-way that led to the temple. There has also been death of a priest when he had fallen off a scaffolding perched on iron stakes driven into the rock. One gets shaken at the very thought.
With a sweep of the entire temple, we came across the place that is actually called Tiger’s Nest. It’s a narrow crevice that leads into some hard-to-squeeze-into caves and which also opens onto the sheer face of the cliff. One misstep and you are on a 9.81 m2/sec free fall to your death. The guard egged us on to explore but one look at the sky from the inside of the crevice killed whatever adventurous thoughts I had in my mind. We found out that these caves were where tiger’s had made homes in early days and hence the name. Kinley had also offered a different version of the story, will have to look up on some texts before we decide to zero in one theory.
Thereafter we made our way back to the entrance, had some photographs clicked with the guard and bade goodbye to the guards. We were lucky to have had an entertaining guide with us that day, we really were. And then started the long climb up the steep steps. The huffing and puffing syndrome was back and soon I was back to taking 5 steps at one go, 10 seconds of rest and then at it again.
After we reached the vantage point I had mentioned earlier it was a cake walk. Just at that point Gyan and I saw a young Druk guy carrying a full bag of cement on his back and making his way to a small temple under construction. I was just too dumbfounded to even say anything. I wanted to from the bottom of my heart. I wanted to speak to the young guy. But I had nothing to say. He had carried the bag all the way up to the temple on his back, while we were struggling with just our body weights. A deep sense of shame prevailed over me and I just stared at him. That guy just earned my everlasting respect. I was in such a state that I couldn’t even take a photograph of him and it was only after a long long time that it buzzed into me. I should have talked to him. I should have taken a photo of him. It’s a remorse I will have for a long time.
The way back was nondescript for me, but quite otherwise for Kenny as I found out. Halfway down the trek where we had stopped for refreshments, there were some local vendors who were selling souvenirs and all of them happened to be Booms (nice ones yet again). I don’t know how, but Kenny had managed to strike up a conversation with not one but two of them!! He was stealing my thunder – here I was looking for a staid Boom to settle down with and there he goes crushing my prospects!!
Another 45 minutes and we reached base. The driver must have been tired stiff waiting for us. We had taken a good 5 hours to reach back at point zero. Tea was ordered for some and some decided for litchi juice from the same vendors. It was getting dark and we decided to hit the road towards Thimpu after finishing off the juice and water.
We didn’t have much time to wander around Paro as in the original plan plus it was getting dark. So we went off straight to Thimpu. Kenny dealt another blow when he waved a loud and cheery goodbye to the Booms he had talked to, while I was made to be content with watching the Booms from the back seat of the taxi, which wasn’t too bad either. I was back to staring at the Booms and wondering how the heck they get to be so beautiful.
Anyway, on the return the driver took us through another route that overlooked the Paro airport and the airstrip. I was back to my info-gathering mode and was asking the driver how much moolah the pilots made, whether they were expats or local people and so forth. Gyan commented that I shouldn’t become a pilot or else I would be scraping the flight and scaring the shit out of the passengers! First the bike, then the car and now the plane!!
It was getting to be dark, and we were left wondering if we should visit the golden Buddha the next morning or make it there right then. Keeping the Buddha point for the next morning meant we had to take a bus around noon, which meant we’d be late by the time we reached Madarihat. We wanted to reach Phuentsholing by noon so that we could savour the food of Zen restaurant once again, so we decided to go to the Buddha point then and there even if it meant getting to see it behind closed gates.
It was a steep climb to the point and the driver pointed out to many SUVs and cars parked on the road, saying they were of couples who wanted to be “alone”. Nobody bothered them it seems. I loved the country a bit more! We also learnt more about the country, how it takes care of the medical bills, how education is encouraged through government sponsorships and all the more reasons to like this country.
We reached the Buddha point, a towering Statue of the Buddha, bathed in gold welcomed us, albeit behind closed gates. The place was still under construction, and when it opens to the public I have no doubt it is going to be a place of inspiration for the masses. The Buddha seemed to be overlooking the entire city of Thimpu and even looking at the statue brought about a sense of calm inside. We tried to take whatever photos possible in the disappearing light and decided to head back to the hotel.
We also decided to go souvenir hunting since it was the last evening in Bhutan. Dutta went about buying razors. He was pissed off with the royal guard at the monastery and was a man on a mission. Kenny and I picked up solar powered prayer wheels. This was the start of Gyan’s indomitable antics and self-crucifixions that will provide us with unparalleled laughter for years to come! We do get these solar powered sunflowers there both in Bhutan as well in Delhi. Gyan asked us, miffed faced, why the hell we were buying the solar flower when we could get it back in Delhi. A stare back at him and a pointer to the solar powered prayer wheel had us all in splits – even the salesgirls. Gyan, our “underweight” darling, spreads happiness everywhere, as it was proved time and again.
Once into the hotel, we decided to get fresh and open the absolutely beautiful looking K5 whiskey. Snacks, that’s read pork, were ordered and not to leave behind Kenny, a fair share of chicken was also ordered. It was a Tuesday and we enquired at the reception whether we would be able to drink in our rooms. The sweet chap just smiled and told us we could in a way that can never be described through words. Ok maybe an attempt won’t hurt- so when we just whispered to him if we could get drunk in our room he just made a comment that it’s a dry day so we should just – and then he made an upward swooping motion with his hands and gave us a cute smile!
We all piled into Gyan’s room and started the mehfil for the evening. The pork, 3 plates of it, disappeared within the second pegs. So we ordered for 2 plates more. Strange, I could swear the 2 plates had just about the same servings as the 3 plates. But we didn’t complain, we had begun to love this place too much to complain about anything.
We all piled into the restaurant after the booze ran dry. I collected the fine bottle and packed it. It was going to be holding a proud stand in my growing collection of trophies – empty bottles of exotic and good whiskies and wines. Pork was again ordered and by that time the reception guy was aware of the fact that pork was the staple food for us. We decided I and Doley would run to the bus station early morning to get tickets for us. We decided we would take the bus back to Phuentsholing and give the taxi a miss. The buses there were Toyota Coasters that were equally, if not more, comfortable than the Versas. I didn’t stick around for much and headed back to our room and after packing off my stuff, promptly hit the sack and snoozed off.
Thimpu-Phuentsholing-Madarihat
I woke up several times in the night, looked up at my watch only to find out it was 0300 hours, then 0400 hours and then finally 0500 hours. It must be the fresh air up there. Then I woke up Doley and both of us scurried to the bus station. We walked, took in the fresh air, looked at girls walking early morning. I tell you, Bhutan is filled with beautiful girls first thing in the morning till dark!
We reached the bus stand and found it to be bustling with activity. Most of the buses were Toyota Coasters but we found out that on certain days of the week, Eicher buses also run in lieu of the Coasters. We walked from counter to counter, each of a different travel agency only to be told that the bus was full. The buses seat only around 18 people and Bhutan Transport System doesn’t allow standing passengers. We were finally directed by a nice (yeah, nice looking, with green nail polish too!) girl in a counter to try another counter. Fortunately that counter had seats but only for the 1100 hours bus. We took 5 tickets immediately and returned to the hotel. But we didn’t disclose the timing of the bus and told others it was at 0900 hours and we had to report half an hour before. The guys wasted no time since it was already 0700 hours and I meantime snuggled back into the bed for a quickie. A nap that is!
Then Gyan came in with a toothbrush. He was getting ready and grabbed the tickets on the table to have a casual look. The departure time was printed on the tickets and I was scared he’d see it. But then Gyan being Gyan took a very good look at the ticket, then announced to us that we better get ready on time. He had totally missed the time printed on the ticket!!
It was only after 0830 that he grew suspicious of me and Doley and demanded another dekko at the tickets. The moment he saw the time this time, he flopped back into his bed!
After a heavy breakfast that consisted of pork noodles, we weren’t yet satisfied. We ordered for more when the hotel guys informed us that we had milked the hotel dry of its pork stock! With our stomachs ready for the bus ride, we collected our bags and paid the hotel guy and bade that nice chap goodbye. He invited us once again to stay with him whenever we were in Thimpu. Inshahallah, we will soon.
We reached the bus stand well in time and the crowd had got smaller. We had some time to kill and we did that by roaming around. There we met Kinley and our taxi driver from the day before and we all shook hands hoping to come across each other some day.
The bus started at 1045 hours, premature. But since all the passengers had arrived, the driver saw no point in waiting. Also, we noticed that nobody checked anyone’s ticket. Everyone was seated calmly in their own place and the driver just announced it was the 1100 AM bus to Phuentsholing. Simple, beautiful. Nobody cheats, everybody’s happy.
The bus was eventful, plenty of action. Starting with the driver. He was handling the bus as if it was low cg Countach. We could hear the tyres squeal. Gyan had one of his fantasies fulfilled with that. He always dreams of sitting in a car with the tyres squealing mad and the wheel being turned clockwise infinite number of times.
Some distance into the journey, an elderly gentleman, whom we came to know as Mr Sonam from Bhumtang , turned on the music player in his mobile and went on to play some hindi numbers on it. We weren’t paying much heed to it until suddenly Creed’s “One Last Breath” came up and our eyebrows tweaked towards the sky. Eventually we chatted up and he came to know about us and we, about him. We learnt that he had been to a large number of places around the world and in India, but told us after all his years of travel, he had come to love India the best. He wasn’t even an Indian Citizen, but he said he found warmth in every nook and corner of India. A sincere smile came across our faces. We also chatted up with the bus driver and soon we had a good thing going on in the bus.
The journey was getting lull at times, so out came Gyan to our rescue. We asked Sonam Sir to pass on some zonkha songs into our mobiles so that we could listen to them sometimes. He gladly obliged and passed the phone to Kenny, but somehow Kenny couldn’t pair it with his Sony Ericsson. Gyan suggested he try since he had a Samsung, the same brand as Sonam Sir’s. He finally succeeded and transferred some 5-6 numbers and passed his phone to Kenny so that he could have the same. After Kenny transferred some songs, he tried to sample them and then found out he couldn’t find ay zonkha numbers. Puzzled he asked Gyan how many numbers he had copied. Gyan replied he had copied enough and then Kenny asked if any of them was a zonkha number. Gyan said no, nada, zilch, none. I turned to him and had just enough time to tell “Then why the hell do you think we passed the phone to you?” before I burst out laughing my ass off!! I wasn’t alone. The guys, Sonam Sir and the bus driver too had a swell time learning of Gyan’s antics. That’s why I say Gyan brings happiness to all people around him!!
We soon parked at someplace with a restaurant called “Hotel Damview” for lunch. We all piled in and had a look at the menu. Pork rice, Mutton rice and chicken rice were ordered. The guys had also ordered beer to go along with it. I wasn’t keen, but when Doley passed me a glass I had to take some out of courtesy!
I remember that the hotel served us some amazing food and even more amazing chutney. Red hot and absolutely lip smacking good! I will make it a point to eat at that place of I ever happen to make it through that road once again.
We reached Phuentsholing at around 1700 hours and crossed into the Indian side soon enough. I was sad to be leaving that place, the beautiful land, the cool and friendly people , the smashing beauties et all. But certain guys – Doley, Dutta, Gyan – were only too happy to be able to smoke legally. The moment we crossed over, the three of them lit up cigarettes. We didn’t want to waste much time and so went in search of a taxi, and found an Omni for 500 bucks. We later had to pay another 150 because of the inner roads we had to take to our guest house.
The Omni driver was flying his car like crazy, even braking like a formula one driver on a bridge. But we did good time and reached the locked gates of our guest house at around 1930 hours. Amid some confusion, we were let in. But we weren’t the only ones in the guest house. West Bengal Police and one official from my head office were also there, which meant we had to pile in one room. Fortunately the room was big and clean enough for all of us and the caretaker got some extra mattresses and sheets and pillows for us. That was all we needed and the soon enough we were sitting on the floor, snacks opened up, the courier bottle opened up and then – even flow!
We were well into our second pegs and Kenny and I noticed that Gyan was about to have his last peg. I reminded Kenny that he was going to waste precious liquid again. You see, Gyan has this nasty and utterly annoying habit of leaving his last peg unfinished. Be it Indian scotch, be it blended, be it single malt or be it a 25 year old Irish – Gyan leaves his last one half done. And it burns us from inside no end, especially since he gives no reason for it and says its always been that way.Dutta was also furious at that time and we all decided we wouldn’t serve him the last peg. Gyan was mad, but we wouldn’t have it any other way. So he sat a bit farther with a foul face, watching us take the last of the spirit in.
Suddenly he hit upon something and got up in a flash and walked, nigh paced, to my bag and fished out the K5 packet from it. I was just out of the bathroom then after a leak. He was pointing the bottle to us and uttered the ultimate line of the entire trip. It goes something like this – “Tum logon ko kya mein ch**** lagta hoon”. Twice. I knew what was going to happen and I was just at my wit’s end whether to fish out my digicam or to see the story unfold. I didn’t want to miss the forthcoming event and ditched the idea of the digicam and told Kenny to just wait and watch. He took up his empty glass and flashed his smile of victory at us and started pouring the whiskey. Moments later he realized that his glass was still empty!! And then he also realized that it was the empty K5 bottle that I had packed in my bag to add to my trophies.
The way we all burst out laughing must have been heard by everyone in the small compound. Gyan sat shell-shocked and red faced while we rolled on the floor, laughing as if we had been sprayed with nitrous oxide, tears rolling from our eyes no end. I don’t know how much I laughed but I know very well that I hadn’t laughed like that in a long long long long time. Gyan didn’t speak an entire word till the next morning.
Still having fits of laughter, we went downstairs to finish our dinner and sleep it off. We were planning to start early to beat the traffic at the border. Without much ado, we all dozed off, the quiet comfort of the air conditioned room lulling us to sleep very soon.
Madarihat- Guwahati
We knew we had to cover 450 km in a single day and that too in my car which was showing the problem of the “powertrain” intermittently. So we woke up quite early, started off with a mission to be at the border before 0900 hours and to beat the trucks. We were doing quite well, the powertrain warning light wasn’t on and doing a good, but cautious, 90 kmph towards Alipurduar. But the first folly happened when I overshot the turn towards Alipurduar and kept on driving. Only when the landscape started looking unfamiliar did we stop and ask a passer-by for directions. He guided us well and soon we were back on track. But even though we made it around 0900 hours to the border, the line of trucks had already burgeoned to an alarming length. We dodged, we dived, and we sidestepped and somehow crawled forward, occasionally having to stop behind trucks when there was no way to go. Fortunately my car on full power and I wasn’t facing any difficulties tackling the terrain.
Somehow, just somehow, we made it to the front and heaved a sigh of relief as we crossed over to Assam. I sped away as fast as possible and was doing a brisk trundling. But after a while the dreaded thing happened- the powertrain warning light came on again. It wasn’t a false alarm. But we drove on albeit at reduced speed.
In the meantime, we had been constantly phoning the transporter and trying to lock in on the position of the bikes. Several calls and several verbal abuses later, we found out that the bikes had arrived in Guwahati. But the initial cheer soon turned into worry as the office would be closed at 1600 hours and would remain closed the next day owing to Bihu. Our minds went on an overdrive now. Out came the cellphones and frantic calls were made. Gyan called up his dad and asked him to go to the transporter to somehow get the bikes out of the compound even if it meant having to bribe the guys there. At the same time, we were thinking of trying to skip the lunch arranged at the same place- my cousin’s friend’s home. Lunch was going to be a “heavy affair” and we couldn’t afford to lose time on lunch and beer. We tried to avoid it, made calls, but we were denied a denial! So it was decided we’d gulp down lunch as fast as possible, probably in my best estimate of 15 minutes and then run like hell. But the guys were skeptical saying that no matter what we’d take atleast half an hour. I was in no mood to delay anything. As it was, I was running on reduced power and we had a tight timeline to beat.
At this time, I could hear some furious honking from behind. I was doing my left lane at 75 kmph and anyone doing more than that could have overtaken me without any fuss. I was literally limping. I saw that it was a Nano. A bloody Nano was honking at me!!Cheeky bastard!! Then it overtook me, still honking. And then a Sumo Grande did the same. I was furious. Totally restless in my seat, helpless and burning to cinders. My car must have sensed it. Because the next moment, the powertrain warning light went off and I was back on full power!!! It was my turf now. Period. I was literally flying, even through a town. Then overtook the Nano with a relative speed of 50 kmph, horns blaring, lights flicking. Never saw that Nano again. The Sumo Grande was a tougher nut to crack. It even had some guards in it, and Gyan said it must be some hot shot with state police guards. I wasn’t going to give two cahoots to that and overtook the Grande in a furious battle of horses. Sure the Grande had 2.2 litres of diesel burning space and 120 horses emanating from the explosions. But I had a hot car and an even more hot-headed driver. It was almost like a drag race and I wasn’t the one to be throwing in the towel. Nobody was to bruise my red baby. Nobody. I slapped a distance of more than a kilometer between me and the Grande. And then when I was done, the light came back on. I love my car. I kissed on the wheel and cajoled sweet nothings to it. The Grande did overtake me later, but never honked.
Then came the good news – Gyan’s dad had pulled it off, so we could collect the bikes anytime of the day. The guys plans hit the roof at this and were acting like maharajahs after that – “lets stop for beer, lets have some rice beer, lets take it easy, lets collect he bikes on 15thor even 16th”. I wasn’t taking any of it and just kept flooring the pedal. Gyan suggested I turn the a/c off to add some extra 10 km to the hour. And by jove, it worked!!
We finally reached the designated place for lunch. We did stop at a dhaba before to satiate our extremely hungry stomachs. But we were warned not to have anything on the way and to save our appetite for the lunch. We had had bare minimum at the dhaba but still could not muster up enough space in our stomachs for what lay ahead. Assortment of dishes lay ahead and we were at a loss what to eat and what not to eat. Relieved by the news of the bikes, the guys digged in and splurged on the rice beer.
After an hour, we bid our goodbyes and started off towards Guwahati- some 110 km away. My car was running normal now and I sped off towards our destination. With the good news came elation and the music was turned up HIGH on Poets of the Fall. I could feel my car shaking sometime soon and turned to see that Dutta and Doley were head banging!! The rice beer had got them good!!! I even played tease me, please me with a black scorpio, much to the chagrin of Kenny! Finally, with no mood to be slowing down, I downshifted and floored the pedal and one minute later the Scorpio was a black dot on my rearview mirror.
Fortunately, my car was running normal now and by 1700 hours we had reached the airport and then breezily made it to the transporter’s godown. But the sight that welcomed us took away all the thrill of getting our hands on our faithful steeds. Curses flowed out in continuum for the guy who had promised the bikes by the 5th of April. It was 14th and the bikes were bruised bad. We collected the bikes and I escorted the guys to Gyan’s place. I came back to my place to freshen up and go back to Gyan’s place for dinner, albeit on my bike! I wasn’t going to be left behind!!
Payeng Da also joined us there and there he narrated to us that he had lost the consignment note for his bike and could not collect it that day. He was dejected too. We all were for all the right reasons, and decided to drown it over some Blenders Pride. Jayanti had made some awesome fish snacks and were “piranha’d” in no time. We narrated Gyan’s antics to Payeng Da and he too had a good laugh. See, I am right again – Gyan makes everyone smile.
In the meantime Payeng Da was offered the option to ride on a Yamaha Libero. But that meant having to wear a pink shirt- it is a tradition Gyan started and nobody dares break it. On the Libero, you had to be wearing pink and setting down your pillion on foot while you negotiate an incline. No bending the rules. We thought the pink shirt wouldn’t gel well with Payeng Da so I called up some IOCL juniors and soon had confirmation for a 150 pulsar. Payeng Da was more than happy at that.
Post dinner, I went back to my place while the guys stayed back at Gyan’s. We had to get out bikes serviced the next day before we were off to Arunachal.
Day 6: April 15th
Guwahati
This day was spent on the service of the bikes. The guys had breakfast at Gyan’s place, while I and Payeng Da went to my township to collect the bike. Once done with that, we assembled at Gyan’s place and then decided we’d sit in the evening at my place and meet some old college friends, Debajit Boro and Gyan Doley. It was a mad mad evening. Gyan Doley proved be another source of entertainment. Eventually after being almost on the verge of getting sloshed out, we hit the beds. Gyan and Payeng Da had gone off to their respective home, deciding on a time to meet up in the morning and start off the trip on two wheels!
Guwahati- Tezpur- Bhalukpong
I received a message early morning from Payeng Da that it was time to wake up and put some rubber on the road. He must have been pretty excited. The ‘jugaad’ pulsar was a delight to ride he had found out the day before. Eventually all the guys were ready by 0630 hours and we were getting our noble stallions ready with all the baggage and bungee cords. Payeng Da also turned up at my place and we all set up readying our bikes.
Finally, at around 0720 hours , the five of us – Kenny, John, Doley , Payeng Da and I, flagged off from my place to the meeting point. Gyan and his Uncle were already there. Finally the Buccaneers were together!!
Without much ado, we started off towards the main road and were soon trundling along the highway. We weren’t doing much. The indo jap bikes up front thought the heavier Res weren’t speeding up, while the Res thought we weren’t riding fast for some reason. Then Kenny came up beside me and asked me “Why is everyone going so slow?”. I looked surprised and replied that we thought THEY were going slow. Then he twisted his right wrist and was soon doing 80 kmph. Suddenly all of our machines were on an overdrive!!! We all were making a beeline at 80 kmph, heads turning wherever we roared through. Seven Samurais. On steeds of various caliber. From various places.
We came to the Saraighat Bridge and were crossing into some unfinished roads but nevertheless doing a pretty brisk pace, which was maintained all the way to a small place where we stopped for breakfast. I was told that smoke was emanating from my exhaust and I thought it was due to some excess engine oil. But to my horror I found out that it was nearly running dry!! Fortunately I had one litre of engine oil in my saddle bag and emptied it half way. With some eggs and tea downed, we were set for ripping on the roads again. While we were assembled people gathered around us.
People: “ Are you on Bharat Bhraman?”
I: “ Yes”
People: “ Where are you coming from?”
I: “ Bhutan”
People: “ Where are you going now?”
I:” Tawang”
People:”Where will you go after that?”
I: “Delhi”
People: “You have ridden all the way from Delhi?”
I: “ Yes”
I like to keep my conversation simple. Don’t like paparazzi following us you see.
After the tea break, we were on the roads again. Kenny was surprised at the smooth tarmac and more so at the absolute green foliage that was on both sides of the road in generous amount. There were more sutta breaks in between and one happened to be right in front of a health centre! We were looking forward to lunch at Tezpur, but my engine started to emit smoke again. So I wanted to top up at the nearest Bajaj Service Centre. I found one at a small town and the moment I and Kenny made a stopover, people gathered around us and our laden bikes. The same questions followed and the same answers were given straight out the book! My centre stand had also given away and was clanging against the swingarm. The engine oil was topped up again and we sped off on our way, trying to catch up with the rest of the gang.
We arrived at Tezpur at noon and we made straight to Ceat Tyre Shoppe to have Payeng Da’s rear tyre changed. I and Gyan also made off to the nearest service centres to have our bikes changed. I went off looking for a particular missing engine cover which we suspected helped the engine oil evaporate. The search took me more than an hour, but finally had it.I returned to the tyre shoppe only to find the guys drinking beer sitting at the footpath. It took me a while to register the fact because I wasn’t expecting that while having the bikes’ works done.
By this time people were hungry with all the work done and we headed to a very much recommended KF lounge and restaurant. The lounge was comfy, spacious but the most special thing was it had an enviable assortment of drinks to offer including Glenfiddich and that too at very likeable prices. We splurged on Carlsberg and ordered fried rice for everyone.
With a nicely done lunch we readied our bikes once again. But Dutta had some shopping to do and he went inside the mall on the ground floor to get some shades- he’d forgotten his from Delhi. You see, Dutta has disgust for John Abraham, citing the fact that he looks and acts gay and it can be seen from the contempt he has for the John ads that come up on TV. But the first thing we notice is that the pair of shades he bought was a Fastrack- form the biker collection that John endorses!!! When I noticed closely I also found out that he was wearing a Fastrack watch!! This led to some serious laughs right by the roadside and we begged for some shots of Dutta wearing his shades. Dutta didn’t oblige. Pity. I wonder if his disgust is sincere. Sometimes superficial disdain is a mask for something more affectionate!!! It was during this course that Dutta earned the much talked about alias of John. Hail John!
We filled up our tanks and the jerry cans at a nearby petrol pump and roared towards Bhalukpong. We were all ripping on those smooth roads when Payeng Da had his first accident of the trip. He had an almost dangerous fallout with a stray cow, but managed without any serious damage. It did bend the leg guard though. It didn’t do anything to slow down the rest of the riders though.
We were closing in on Bhalukpong and we came to a turn that took us to the road to Bhalukpong and it was still in construction. So there was a lot of clay and slush around and marked the start of the first off-roading of the trip. The road took us to the Nameri Reserve and we got the first taste of the wild. Elephant trails, dense forests on both sides of the road, green light through the forest cover and a lone road running through it. I couldn’t have been happier. We were finally getting away from civilization and into the wild. Yeah, that’s my favourite catch phrase and it remains my motto all the time we go on a trip. Thanks to Alexander Supertramp! RIP! I always echo his sentiments on Lord Byron’s quote – “I love not Man the less But nature more”.
As we approached Bhalukpong, we could make out the hills, green and inviting, in the distance, amidst the shrinking rays of the sun. The road was shining like a silver river and it seemed hypnotic, beckoning us to ride on and on.
Soon, with all the brisk riding, we came to the check point at Bhalukpong and were stopped for entry by the Arunachal Pradesh Police. There was also a fair presence of Indian Army at the checkpost. We made the entries, which went off without any hassles, although Gyan’s Uncle made the mistake of taking out his handycam and shooting. Photography or videography is prohibited at the checkpoint and he was promptly asked to shut it off and we complied readily.
We had advance bookings made at Hotel Solu at Bhalukpong and went in search for it. It wasn’t hard to find, but there was some confusion regarding the booking. The travel agency at Guwahati seemed to have missed out on informing the hotel about our booking and after some failed attempts to contact the travel agency, the hotel reception allowed us in out of sheer trust. Hats off to these simple people. Really, beauty lies in simplicity and throughout the trip we have been exposed to the subtle yet warm hospitality that seems like second nature to the people of this place. We crashed into out rooms and freshened up as soon as we could. It was 1700 hours and we couldn’t wait to just sit back in the hotel lawn and take in the view of the snaking river below.
Soon we were all pulling up chairs at the lawn, and it wasn’t long before it was sunset and we had fished out a bottle of Blenders from our packs – one of the few bottles we’d packed up for the trip. The hotel staff was amazingly friendly and got to serving us good stuff in no time. I must mention that the glasses they had served us were awesome and the pleasure of downing the whiskey in those glasses, staring down at the moonlit river below was just about doubled.
Laughter flowed freely and so did the whiskey; the night had become just lovely; “with friends surrounded, the river flowing” …….
John started playing with a stray pussy that had come after the leftovers. While I tried to do everything to shoo it off, John did the exact opposite and just fell shy of kissing the pussy all over. Amidst all the jokes and the leg pulling it was soon time for dinner. But before that the hotel staff asked us to get down our bikes onto the lawn down a makeshift ramp. Seems like Arunachal has its fair bit of grand theft auto. We complied and all of us joined hands to bring down our bikes safe down the ramp. That wasn’t all – the hotel person just “unplugged” almost all of our bikes as an additional measure.
After a very fulfilling dinner, we headed to our individual rooms and made ready our sacks for the night. We had to cover Bhalukpong to Dirang the next day and we wanted to start as early as possible so we get plenty of time on the road for a leisurely ride.
