1. The day we bid farewell without sorrow
“She leaned in
I glimpsed a smile
Are you going to miss me?
Farewells are seldom devoid of sorrow.The only times they provide reassurance is when you know where you are headed hides what you cannot hope to achieve here.
Tranquility.Solitude.A piece of my heart.
The city life is indeed charming and compelling.A man arrives on the doorstep with a baggage of big dreams and high hopes.It offers you a roof until the plain white ceiling begins to gnaw at your mind.It offers you luxuries until your hearts longs to acquire something real.
It offers you freedom until in freedom, you discover sin.
Farewells can be devoid of sorrow.
Mine certainly was.
Bidding farewell to the capital was considerably natural and bore no ill-feelings on my heart.Delhi resonates with a part of my existence that is chaotic and mis-led.
A part that is lost.
I had to pick my friend Danish up from Okhla and I completely and solely blame myself for expecting him to be on time.The only good that came out of it was , we had amazing biryani in Okhla before we hit the road.
The first day of our journey comprised majorly of on-road travelling on the Himalayan Royal Enfield.I find it amusing how on trips like these, you sincerely start sensing the preciousness of life and begin to resonate with nature.Everybody’s inner Rumi suddenly decides to make a guest entrance.
Feeling at peace with myself, I looked up at the sky as I always do before making my prayers for a sound journey and for the well-being of the people I leave behind and noted that it was a clear blue, the sun harshly piercing into my eyes.
Taking the NH1 highway , we made our initial pitstop at Murthal to reconcile with the second love of my life-chai.Being a free man bounded by restrictions of my heart, I had to pull myself away and keep moving on.
Further on, we took the route through Panipat, Kurukshetra and Ambala. A blind man could have intuited a change in scenery because the air you gulp in feels so much more sacred as you keep on going.Sensing the wind rush past your face and having absolutely no distresses in the world.The journeys are definitely more fulfilling than the actual destination.
Panchkulla reasoned to be the stop to refill our bikes. Touring through Parwanj, Kandaghat accepted us with open arms at around 8:00 pm.
My most preferred means of travelling to the mountains is biking, obviously because of the cool and nomadic factor. One little detail I always overlook is how low my endurance levels are.
Riding the whole day on a bike through rocky roads, slopes and plains, my back and my neck heave their last breath.
Also, my very good friend Danish you see is one of the most proficient pillions I have come across.Yet, to cover up for that, his navigation skills saved the day for us quite a few times.
Even through the helmet, my face had layers and layers of caked sand and I have to give it to the people of Kandaghat for quite respectfully offering me an affordable place at 500 rupees
to lay my head in at night even when I looked like an uglier, human version of “Groot”.