tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78960406413541198512024-03-19T15:33:34.683-07:00The Clueless RiderGeorge Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-63809138280721473312017-07-02T08:00:00.000-07:002017-07-02T08:00:03.589-07:00Leh Diaries - Making Philosophers Out Of Poets<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I am not overtly attached to my motorcycle. People often name
their motorcycle something before they embark on a motorcycle trip but I have
never felt that kind of an attachment. I love this motorcycle for sure. There
is a familiarity when I handle it. I know the exact amount of force required to
kick start it, I know the exact amount of acceleration required while switching
gears and a host of other such seemingly irrelevant stuff about this motorcycle
which brings in that effortlessness in my rides. It has been a companion for 7
long years now and I sure prefer it over any other motorcycle for a trip like
this. It looks good and grudgingly I would admit it seems to be way more
photogenic than me. Motorcycle riders may consider their motorcycles as soul
mates and on the other end of the spectrum they may consider it as mere
objects. I don’t know where i would fall on that spectrum. It certainly is not
a mere object for me but I can’t go as far as calling it a soulmate. I’d say we
are just good friends. However there are times when I could say we are
something more. Maybe like “friends with benefits”.</div>
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Ladakh is one such
time. Everyone has a friend who has done a motorcycle trip to Ladakh and all of
them have only good things to say. You ride into Ladakh with an incredible
amount of hype and one can’t help expectations building up. When expectations
are high there is always a chance of disappointment. Anywhere in the world
where nature is abundant and overshadows the human footprint tends to have a
beautiful charm to it. Some places strike you with their beauty instantly while
some take a little time for the beauty to sink in. The burden of expectations
can sometimes mess up your experiences. One doesn’t need to worry about all
that in Ladakh. The place is incredibly beautiful. I rode into Ladakh with very
high expectations and it has exceeded every expectation I had by a wide margin.
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I plan to take it easy today. Walk around, sit in cafe’s and
reflect on the place and its people. The acclimatization won’t hurt too. I wake
up early to a bright sunny morning and head for breakfast nearby. Buddhist
chants from a nearby music shop reverberate all across the street. I like the
vibe these Buddhist chants bring about in the quiet of the morning fresh
mountain air. Breakfast over I set to walk around the place. A few shops have
opened, a few are opening up and a few are yet to open. The morning cheer on
people’s faces is yet to be diminished by the monotony of routine. A few
tourists are out on the streets. Tourists flock this place, both Indian and
foreign. There are adventure seekers, there are peace seekers and there are
people in between – all mesmerized by the beauty of this place. </div>
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The serenity of the morning mountain air interspersed with
feeble Buddhist chants playing somewhere in the distance is being disturbed by
the loud thuds of a group of motorcycle riders. They are all prepped up to seek
their adventures this land has to offer. The excitement they ooze out as they
zoom past is infecting me. I got to change my plans. The cafe’s and the
reflection on the people can wait. I am in Leh and I got to take the motorcycle
out for a spin. The motorcycle as the cliche goes, needs to get Leh’d. </div>
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Hemis monastery is where I’ll head. There is a festival
going on in the monastery and at 50 Kms away - the place isn’t all that far. I
can be back by late afternoon to get my permits done from the DC office. I take
out the motorcycle and head out for the monastery. I spot a service center open
within the fag ends of the city limits. I stop. The motorcycle could do with a
wash. It’s got dirty managing the tough mountain passes on my way here. I’d
normally not bother much about washing the motorcycle clean but in Ladakh the
motorcycle deserves to be pampered a bit. It needs to look pretty. I owe it to
the motorcycle. Two men set on it to give it a clean look and I closely watch
over them to ensure they don’t slack. They do a good job. The motorcycle, now
spotlessly clean is ready to roar. The city gradually thins out and finally it
is just me, the motorcycle and the road – all trying to blend into the
landscape.</div>
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The road snakes in between vast stretches of empty land with
mountains erupting at the ends to stop your gaze from travelling further. Jeep
tyre tracks originating from the road and disappearing into that vast ocean of
brown can be seen at many places. I get off the road. I want to add to these
tracks and add my own in this vast ocean of brown. The mountains at the end
maybe a Kilometre or two away allures me and the swirls the motorcycle is
subjected riding in the slightly loose sand enthralls me. Today couldn’t have
been more perfect. God bless those motorcycle riders I spotted in the morning
for making me take out the motorcycle. Twenty odd minutes of negotiating speeds
and twirls, I am finally at the base of the mountain. I climb a few steps to
the mountain and lie down. The motorcycle all washed and clean hasn’t looked
this pretty ever. The view I have feels like a canvas. The motorcycle in the
foreground and beyond it the vast unending emptiness of brown with snow covered
peaks in the horizon marking the borders of the canvas. This is an image that
is going to be etched in my memory for a life time. I sleep for a while awed
and amazed by the landscape. </div>
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The beauty of Ladakh lies in its nakedness. There are vast
stretches of empty land everywhere with hardly anything growing on it. The
mountains you spot whichever direction you look are naked in various shades of
brown with the higher peaks covered in snow. Ladakh is that extremely beautiful
woman with an impeccable body to die for. Riding a motorcycle in these picture perfect
landscapes has an erotically sensual feeling to it. The landscape is the
beautiful woman you are mesmerised with. Meandering on it in your motorcycle,
feels like running your fingers slowly across her naked body. </div>
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Ladakh not just attracts you with its beauty; it also
intimidates you with its emptiness. Vast empty spaces make you realise your
insignificance – how small and irrelevant you are in the grand scheme of
things. Everyday life offers you many instances to realise your insignificance
but there is something different about realizing your insignificance in such
beautiful surroundings. The beautiful surroundings make you accept your
insignificance. Everyone ought to have such an experience once in their lives. We
are all poets seeking meaning in the things we do and holding on to the things
we love. Maybe the things we hold on to are just our ideas of significance.
Accepting insignificance helps you in letting go. It brings out the philosopher
from the poet inside of you.</div>
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I spend time gazing into the emptiness philosophizing about
life, death, the things in between and the insignificance of it all. Ladakh is
a place different from all others. In most places you get impressed by the
landscape. </div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In Ladakh you want the landscape to be impressed
by you. </span></div>
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<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</i></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" style="color: #888888; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-71626399574352222172015-08-20T23:07:00.000-07:002015-08-20T23:07:16.647-07:00Preparing For A Solo Motorcycle Trip - Answers To Some Frequently Asked Questions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">You may have often heard stories of people embarking on long motorcycle journeys and wondered - "Do oriental looking children wave out to them when they pass by them in the mountains ? " The answer is "Yes they sometimes do" and that my friend should be reason enough to quit your job, divorce your spouse, sell your house and embark on that motorcycle trip. Children anywhere smiling or waving at you have a way of making you feel on top of the world but there is something inherently a lot more pleasant when a oriental looking kid does that</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here are a list of questions that a lot of people have asked me over time on preparing for a motorcycle trip. I have tried to collate all of them into this one blog entry and I hope this might be of some help to people looking to go on a solo long distance motorcycle trip.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Is it better to travel alone or is it better to travel in a group ?</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There is no definitive answer to that. I guess if you have a tendency to murder people it is better to travel alone as killing a stranger involves lesser guilt than say killing someone you know and in case you have suicidal tendencies you better travel in a group. Research suggests that most people attempt suicide when they are alone. Although in recent times you do see some people fancy the idea of blowing themselves up in crowded places.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To travel is good. Traveling alone or traveling in a group serves different purposes. Both have its pros and cons. Traveling alone gives you a lot more time for self reflection whereas traveling in a group helps you bond better with the people you are traveling with. Traveling alone allows you to do things at the pace you are comfortable with while traveling in a group can give you more confidence to do bat shit crazy stuff.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In case there is someone you fancy, traveling with them can also increase your chance of getting in their good books but then there is also a possibility that you could ruin it forever. So take a call accordingly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>But isn't it safer when you are in a group ?</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If by safety you are thinking armed men and robbers, I really don't think being in a group will help in any way. Firstly the possibility of encountering them is very remote as mostly you are riding in the daytime. However, if you happen to be at the wrong place at the right time and you are alone you are definitely screwed. If you are in a group, your whole group is definitely screwed. Unless of course one member of your group is Arnold Schwarzenegger. Then you can just fuck around with anyone and everyone.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I fuck around with anyone I like</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>No. I mean what happens if you have a flat tyre or your motorcycle breaks down in some remote location?</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In that case I guess it helps to be in a group. The group traveling along with you will be deep down very irritated with you but since most people don't like to act like assholes they will figure out a way to get your bike fixed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Even if you are alone, a flat tyre or your motorcycle breaking down shouldn't worry you that much. You are on the road and you should find someone or the other passing by at some point in time. Stop them and ask for help. A tourist on a motorcycle does intrigue a lot of people and someone or the other will eventually help you out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My motorcycle broke down twice during the journey and people around always stepped up and helped me out. You can read about all that in this blog link given below</span><br />
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<a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2015/02/15-life-lessons-i-learnt-on-my-7-month.html"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2015/02/15-life-lessons-i-learnt-on-my-7-month.html</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>But do you think it would be better if I learn to fix a flat tyre before I start the trip ?</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Of course it is better Einstein. Otherwise you can always pray that you don't encounter a flat tyre. There is a lot of power in prayer. I never encountered a flat tyre in my whole 7 months of travel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">By the way, tubeless tyres could be a good option. The puncture kit is easy to operate as it does not involve taking out the tyre. Just carry an air pump along. If you feel lazy to even use the puncture kit, you could just fill in air and ride for another 40 to 50 Kms in the hope of finding a puncture repair shop.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Ok. But is there a way to ensure that my motorcycle never breaks down during the journey ?</u></b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes there is and it involves performing an ancient meditation technique. Only 14 people in the whole world are privy to that knowledge and sadly, I am not one of them. Those people are assholes and they do not want the world to know about this wonderful technique that could help motorcycle riders across the world. I think it is because they were bullied in school.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">However there are a few things you can do which may decrease the chances of a motorcycle break down. Before you start the trip make sure you get your motorcycle serviced by a trusted mechanic. Replace old parts and fit in new parts if possible. I have a Royal Enfield Thunderbird (2006 model) and my mechanic advised me to make sure that I serviced my bike at approximately every 3000 Km with an oil change. I more or less did that. Still my motorcycle broke down twice during the journey and I had to truck it to the next available workshop. Once was because my clutch plate got burnt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Carry spares like clutch cables, accelerator cables, spark plugs, fuses and other stuff after consulting your mechanic. From my experience I would say carry an extra clutch plate and a chain spocket and chain in case you are traveling more than 12000 Kms. It is better to replace your clutch plate and chains after riding for about 12000 to 15000 Kms.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Carry only those tools that you know how to use but carry spares for sure. If your motorcycle breaks down, you will somehow manage to reach a mechanic who would have an idea (or pretend to have an idea) as to how to fix your motorcycle but they might not always have the spares.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Ok. Anything else that you feel is a must before embarking on a motorcycle trip ?</u></b></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Yes there is but I will only tell you if you like my<br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>I have done that. Now tell me.</u></b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I hope you have done that because God is watching you and he will punish you with bad sex life for 10 years if you haven't. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So here is the list</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<u><span style="font-size: large;"><i>1) Proper Riding Gear</i></span></u></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">However good a rider you think you are accidents can happen. We all know it is always someone else's fault and never ours but still our bodies can take the hit. Do not compromise on your riding gears. Be safe. I had a bad accident once in my trip (of course not at all my fault) and the riding gear was very instrumental in ensuring I escaped with minor bruises. Riding gear have a lot of padding which cushions your fall but more importantly the padding makes you look a lot more muscular than you actually are. So keep them on even when you stop for your food breaks. You may want to take off the riding gloves while eating food though. Its a lot easier to eat with your gloves off.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzAo1Ew-32cnDTIME9xuUS95dDExy5QkAE9u5U_8eyw-yuMpLtCr4Bs2Oi39DbQ0F0xhwJPMrmguKMtMsRdJgMBQPv64uT5hdAUPPw2H2DPSQkxbkCSMiyalOJkpU-mEged1K-D9ZOmto/s1600/DSCN1927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzAo1Ew-32cnDTIME9xuUS95dDExy5QkAE9u5U_8eyw-yuMpLtCr4Bs2Oi39DbQ0F0xhwJPMrmguKMtMsRdJgMBQPv64uT5hdAUPPw2H2DPSQkxbkCSMiyalOJkpU-mEged1K-D9ZOmto/s640/DSCN1927.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<u><span style="font-size: large;"><i>2) Proper Riding Gear</i></span></u></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<u><span style="font-size: large;"><i>3) Proper Riding Gear</i></span></u></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<u><span style="font-size: large;"><i>4) Water proofing your bags</i></span></u></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<u><span style="font-size: large;"><i>5) Bungee cords</i></span></u></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">To tie your bags to the motorcycle. Keep a few cords extra in case a cord breaks on the way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">You must have noticed that I kept 'Proper Riding Gear' as points 1, 2 and 3 in the list. I am not trying to emphasize the importance of a riding gear here. I just wanted to make sure that my list has at least five points.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>That's it. Nothing else ?</u></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Of course there are other things too like clothes, shoes, sunglasses, sunscreen, camera, memory cards, motorcycle registration papers etc etc. Take care of your health and please do apply sunscreen. You are in direct contact with the sunlight for a prolonged period of time every day. A little bit of common sense takes care of a lot of things and as for the remaining things, learn it the hard way. It will be a wonderful story to talk about later on. If not for you then maybe for someone who absolutely loathes you.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>How do I plan my routes ?</u></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There is this very cool website called 'google'. Check it out sometime.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzSqC78VOAuczbrk1t1s4SzL87tjD4WGVsfExRTgzf0EQ3xmNfQ_O1fD9doYflSb1QuV48XCTOCmoAeHe_chy_0y60ltK7HVr1SZ1IJLVexGrkyIzwX2Mzsra4TjWxtftgS7YXsHFKxQ/s1600/google_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzSqC78VOAuczbrk1t1s4SzL87tjD4WGVsfExRTgzf0EQ3xmNfQ_O1fD9doYflSb1QuV48XCTOCmoAeHe_chy_0y60ltK7HVr1SZ1IJLVexGrkyIzwX2Mzsra4TjWxtftgS7YXsHFKxQ/s640/google_1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>How much money would be required ?</u></b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, that is very kind of you. I write this for free but you can always message me. I'll send you my my bank details and you can transfer money to my account.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>No I meant how much money would be required for the trip ?</u></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, that. See, I don't know you and I don't know your spending habits. There are three major expenditures when you are on the motorcycle - your fuel expenses for the day, your food expenses for the day and your lodging expenses for the day. On my motorcycle if I traveled say 300 Kms in a day my fuel expenses would be approximately Rs 600. I am not a heavy eater and my food expenses for the day would be somewhere in the range Rs 700 to 800. A decent room costs around Rs 600 to Rs 800 a night. Although if you search you can get cheaper rooms. When you calculate keep in mind that on those days of the trip where you are not riding your fuel expenses are zero. Also on days you are staying with a friend your lodging expenses are zero.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The best way to find out is to go on a short 3 to 5 day motorcycle trip and note the amount spent on these things to get an approximate idea of these expenses. Then extrapolate these numbers to the number of days you plan the trip to get an idea of the expenses you may incur. Add some more money as a buffer amount to the amount you calculated. In case you are traveling for more than a month, then make sure to factor in motorcycle maintenance expenses also in your estimates.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A short 3 to 5 day trip may give you a lot more idea in other aspects too.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Still doesn't it get boring when you are alone ?</u></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">No. To be honest I was never alone. I have a multiple personality disorder and each one of us has a dirty mind. I quite like them all. Although I do feel Ben is a little harsh on Sid. Also Joey could wear less flashy clothes. It sometimes gets very embarrassing especially when Tina is around.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Any final tips ?</u></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A motorcycle trip is not that intimidating as it may seem. Take it one day at a time. It is just about riding 250 to 350 Kms in a day and then doing it again and again. Take rest whenever you feel like it. There is no hurry.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Do not worry to much about the preparation. Just start somehow. Even if you forget something essential, you can buy stuff on the way.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Also try this out if you can</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQebEdv4J4IDE0GzieO3yQVSSsweSSqdLRSfbzvVPYCh2gUepRG8oj1FLy7X8Y9uLIRUydaRptjd3cajpLf43ebbDs0c4hvGLHTksS9JjDfjESllb6qa6BTt3B2fbQPiYOqh6VkPzrEss/s1600/hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQebEdv4J4IDE0GzieO3yQVSSsweSSqdLRSfbzvVPYCh2gUepRG8oj1FLy7X8Y9uLIRUydaRptjd3cajpLf43ebbDs0c4hvGLHTksS9JjDfjESllb6qa6BTt3B2fbQPiYOqh6VkPzrEss/s640/hotel.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-71082563576888497742015-05-25T03:25:00.004-07:002015-05-25T03:30:22.405-07:00Traveling And Sex - Probably Not What You Are Thinking About<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For all you people who clicked on this link thinking this blog is going to be about tips on how to get laid while traveling, I am sorry to disappoint you. Getting laid whether traveling or not traveling depends on a host of factors like your looks, your intellect, your charm, your confidence levels and your luck in appropriate proportions. I rarely get these proportions right. I mean I do look good under the right kind of lighting and I do sound intelligent when there is very loud music playing in the background. I am still working on charming my way to get things done but I am very confident in the company of old bed ridden men on the verge of death. If only all these conditions were met at a single instant of time, I would have had a different story to tell and a lot of tips to offer. This blog sadly, is about something else.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Often when I meet people, particularly new people and they come to know about my motorcycle trip (wearing a T shirt 24/7 that says I went on a 7 month motorcycle trip helps), most of them have kind words for me. It makes me really happy. However altruistic I like to fantasize myself as, the bits of attention thrown at me every now and then gets me really excited. A lot of times in these conversations, inevitably this question comes up - "So how was it ? ". I am always short of eloquent answers when this question comes up. I generally retort with three words - "It was good". Sometimes I stretch it to four words - "It was really good". Most people seem satisfied with this answer but some of them still look like they expect more. I fumble for answers. I repeat the same answers, only this time I replace the word 'good' with a synonym. I don't think I manage to fool them with my clever wordplay. It bothers me a bit. Not only the fact that I couldn't fool them with my clever wordplay but also the fact that I can't seem to describe my travel experiences with a more eloquent speech rather than just these 3 or 4 word sentences. I seem to be lost when I try to describe the experience. I mean I plan to write a book about it and all I could mutter was three or four words. I start doubting my capabilities, go into a major depression and start getting suicidal thoughts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Alright, the last sentence was exaggerated for effect but then the question has always perplexed me. I had pretty much thought the answer would elude me all my life until I had my Eureka moment when this guy I had met recently asked me the same question. (In case you were wondering, NO, I wasn't sitting in my bathtub naked whilst talking to this guy) After I fumbled with my three word answers he said "I also like traveling". In my mind I was like "Of course you do. Who in their right mind doesn't love traveling". I was smiling at the conversation I was having with myself in my head and suddenly it all became clear to me and I was enlightened. It was such a simple thing and I was unnecessarily being bothered about it. The reason I could never talk much about my travel experiences is because traveling is like sex.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes traveling is like sex. Most people enjoy it. Everyone has their own preferences on how to go about it. People who haven't done it fantasize about it all the time and the people who have done it want to do it again and again. You think about doing it a lot more often but most times you just end up looking at pictures and videos on the internet and fantasize about it. Sometimes you like it short and sweet, sometimes you want it to last really long. You might be doing alright without it but when you see other people doing it, it stokes an urge in you also to do the same. Sometimes it gets over faster than what you would have liked and sometimes it just drags on a little more than you wanted. Sometimes it is calm and relaxing, sometimes it is wild and energetic. There are some people who never get a chance to do it and you kinda feel bad for them. Then there are people who just abstain from it and you can't help but wonder why. Sometimes you need to prepare a lot before the act and sometimes it just happens spontaneously. Sometimes it is for business but mostly it is for pleasure. Every time you do it, it feels different than the previous time. And lastly it gets more and more difficult as you get older. Although just keeping a stash of pills may come in handy but its better to keep yourself fit to enjoy it at an older age. :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Yes traveling is like sex. It is difficult to describe it in words but you can always recount and share stories about it. And just like sex, some stories are way too personal to share</span>.</div>
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<u><b><br /></b></u></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-85517362824077866222015-04-28T08:12:00.000-07:002015-04-28T08:12:11.432-07:00Love Dancing In The Shadows Masked By Laughter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Truck Driver: Tumhara Shaadi ho gaya (Are you married)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Me: Of course not. Do you think if I was married, I would be able to roam around like this</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There is laughter all around. The unmarried ones, who are a majority laugh a little louder. It is probably one of the most cliched retorts I can come up with for a question like this but it does manage to get a laugh every single time. A lot of times I have wondered whether these unmarried men really value the freedom that being single entails or is freedom the silver lining in the dark cloud that the loneliness (and the infrequent sex) of being single entails.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I met these truck drivers in the morning when my bike had broke down and I needed help to truck it to the next town and get it fixed. The previous night, I was stuck in a small village called Barak in Manipur and a very kind lady - Veronica had given me a place to sleep in her shop. With tears in my eyes I left Veronica's shop in the morning but the tears dried up soon as soon as I hit the road. You see slushy roads have a way of making you forget everything and your mind is only concentrating on how much to accelerate on the first gear (second gear if you are lucky) and making sure you have a firm grip on your bike. The wheels move haywire sometimes and you are constantly concentrating on the road. There is a convoy of trucks that are stuck in that slush in front of me. I stop behind them and contemplate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The ground on the left of these trucks is more firm but there is very little space to go ahead. On the right side of the trucks, the road is a lot more slushy and the bike tyre is very likely to get stuck somewhere in between but then there is enough space. I also have an option of waiting till the trucks start moving but the truck drivers are all out and it may take some time before they start moving. Also the left side is a deep valley and one slip here or there and I would end up down that valley. If that happens I presume I'll be dead. I do think about death once in a while but I always imagine it peacefully in my sleep or sometimes a bomb blast in a crowded bus. A motorcycle accident in the mountains is my least preferred option in ways to die. I think of waiting for a while but I can see one of those truck drivers is very excited to see me and if I wait it is inevitable that he will strike up a conversation with me. A tourist on a motorcycle in a God forsaken place does intrigue a lot of people and I am pretty used to it now. The truck driver who looks at me with a lot of excitement is one of the most sweetest people you will ever come across in life. I can say that just by his looks and demeanour but still I want to avoid that conversation. It is not that I hate people or conversations with people. In fact I love them. It is just that the kindness kind of unsettles me. I am always worried that I will never be able to reciprocate the same amount of love, compassion and kindness that I receive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I take the road on the right side of the roads and as I had guessed the back tyre did get stuck just 20 metres ahead. The truck driver came rushing towards me with the cutest of smiles and pushed my bike out and said some kind encouraging words. I smiled, thanked him, waved him goodbye and carried on. Hardly have I traversed another Kilometer my bike breaks down. The engine is on but no amount of acceleration gets the bike to move forward. As I came to know later on, the clutch plates had got burnt. A local guy on the road helps me push the bike to the side of the road where the ground is firm and he tells me to wait for trucks and ask them for help in carrying it to the next town.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I wait for some half an hour before I see a convoy of trucks approaching. One good thing about the roads being slushy is that the trucks would be slow and they won't be able to speed past without noticing me. There are 6 trucks in that convoy and I and that local guy call out to the truck driver to help me out. People in Manipur have been very kind to me and I am pretty confident that they will help me out. In the last 3 days I have been on the receiving end of two acts of extreme kindness (<i>You can read about those stories <a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/08/to-veronica-because-some-stories-are_22.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a> and <a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/06/the-world-is-much-kinder-place-than.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a></i>) that suddenly the skepticism you have about people fades away and you start trusting in the goodness of people. Add to it the fact that one of guys coming out from one of these trucks is the same truck driver who came to help push my bike when it was stuck in the mud a while back. I just knew I was in luck.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let me just pause for a moment here and give names and some information about a few characters. The excited truck driver who rushed to help me - let me call him Mr X. He is married and his wife is pregnant and they are expecting a baby soon. There is one very benevolent truck driver - let me call him Mr Y. He is married and has two kids. He is the married guy who I mentioned at the starting of this story. Then there is this angry young man. Let me call him Mr Z. He is unmarried. I spent the whole day with them and I know I am a very pathetic person because I don't remember their names. In my defense, I can only say that Manipuri names are very hard to remember. I should have written it down. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So let me proceed again </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are about 10 people in these 6 trucks. As I learnt over the course of time, a convoy of trucks has two sets of people. One are the drivers and the others are the cleaners. The drivers are the bosses and the cleaners are the ones who do most of the ancillary stuff as guided by the drivers. They also take care of the cooking and washing utensils and all that stuff. All the decisions are to be taken by the truck drivers. The cleaners just follow orders. Gradually they pick up the requisite skills and ideally they would progress to be truck drivers. In fancy corporate lingo you could call them interns. The truck drivers amongst them are in an animated discussion. They are speaking in some Manipuri language but I can get the jist of the conversations with their body language. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mr Z is angry and saying something on the lines that we can't waste time with this and we need to reach somewhere and we will get late. Mr Y doesn't say anything but then just by the way he is looking at me I know that he wants to help me out and he is feeling bad about it. Then Mr X does the most amazing thing that one human being can do for another. He stood up for me. He just told them "You all go if you want to. I am staying back and helping him". I never understood the words he spoke but these are things you can feel. I will never forget this in my life. Mr X was my guardian angel. Just this small act of standing up for me turned the tide in my favour. Mr Y also started to convince the other people and in under 5 minutes, he managed to convince Mr Z too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The bike and the luggage is loaded in Mr Y's truck and I sit in front with Mr Y. We carry on. The whole day till now had been so eventful that I had forgotten the events of the previous day. I had left the morning from Veronica's shop with tears in my eyes that had quickly dried up with the road conditions and the break down of the bike. My thoughts again go back to Veronica and a tear trickled down my face. Mr Y notices my tears and with all his benevolence tells me not to worry and that my bike would get fixed in the next town. I smile in my mind. Sometimes life just gives you such comical scenarios. I want to tell him that I am a courageous man. I am not a man who would cry for such things. I want to tell him the story about the previous day. But I keep quiet. The kind of love that I could feel was just magical and I did not want to ruin something that beautiful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finally we have hit proper roads and we stop somewhere on the side of the road near a waterfall for lunch. The cleaners are busy cooking lunch for everyone. The drivers are all out there in the waterfall for a bath. I join them. I can't help but wonder that every time in this trip when I am with truck drivers, I end up taking a bath with them. This happened before in Manali (<i>you can read that story <a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/01/truck-drivers-guardians-on-road.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a></i>) and again out here. Just my luck I guess. In an ideal world, I would have been bathing with Victoria's secret models under waterfalls when I go on a motorcycle trip but I guess the world is not that ideal a place. Anyway it helps in bonding and Mr Z doesn't seem upset because of me anymore. After a simple meal of rice, dal and a very hot Raja Mirchi chutney, we carry on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We pass Jiribam and cross into Assam. We reach Lakhipur a small town in Assam, at about 3 pm. We stop just on the outskirts near a bike mechanic shop. I ask the mechanic if he could fix my bike. The mechanic tells me he cannot say. He says he will have to check and if its not a major fault he can fix it but if its something major which would require some spare parts it could be difficult to source Enfield spare parts and I would have to take it to Silchar some 35 Km away to get it fixed. I liked his confidence.We take down the bike from the truck and I take it to the mechanics place. I tell the situation to those truck drivers and I tell them that I would manage from here. I'll find a lodge nearby and dump my luggage there and get the bike fixed and carry on the next day. They have other plans. The 5 trucks carry forward to the place where they had decided to camp for the night. Mr Y's truck which has all my luggage stays back. Then Mr X & Mr Y accompany me to the bike mechanics shop and Mr Z sleeps inside the truck because all my luggage is inside the truck.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The clutch plate is burnt and I need to replace it. Luckily the mechanic has a spare Enfield clutch plate in his warehouse. It takes him about 2 hours to fix the bike. Mr X & Mr Y wait with me the whole time till the bike gets fixed. The mechanic charges me Rs 800 for the clutch plates. Mr Y tries to reason with him that the printed price on the back of the cover is Rs 280 and he should maybe be more reasonable. The mechanic knows that I lack options and doesn't budge. Not that an extra 500 bucks bothered me. I was just amazed at the two different sets of people I met on the same day. I am just grateful that the mechanic wasn't one of the truck drivers. These truck drivers never even hinted about money for helping me out. Even the thought that they could make some money out of my situation never crossed their mind once. These were people who had hearts full of love. People who go the extra mile to help a person in need.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I pay the mechanic and Mr X sits behind me on my bike. Mr Y and Mr Z go in the truck to join the other trucks who are camping some 15 - 20 Kms ahead just on the outskirts of Silchar. I have a feeling that their original plan was to reach the Silchar godown by evening, load the goods in the truck and start off back the next morning and because of me they are camping in the road for the night and they will head to the godown, early the next morning. Mr X asks me what my plans were. I told him I'll take my luggage and head off to Silchar to find a room for the night. I want to tell him that I do not want to head to Silchar. I want to tell him that I want to spend more time with them. It wasn't just to express gratitude. It was more because I felt so loved in the company of these strangers. But somewhere I am never able to express these things in person. Mr X again comes to my rescue. He tells me its already getting dark and suggests that I spend the night with them. I lap up the offer, ask Mr X if there is an alcohol shop on the way. I buy some whisky and we head to the place where the trucks are camped.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Alcohol has a way of getting out the most intellectual of conversations in people. We talk about the prostitutes in Silchar. They tell me Silchar has prostitutes from Bhutan, Nepal, Bangladesh, Assam and Burma too. I tell them some stories about my bike trip when I was in Bhutan and tell them that Bhutanese women are indeed very pretty. These guys seem to be more into Burmese women. I make a mental note to definitely visit Burma one day. Mr Y is a little embarrassed about this conversation. He tells me he is married and doesn't indulge in such stuff. Mr X on the side looks at me and smiles shyly and in the cutest voice says "Mera Shaadi ho gaya par mein kabhi kabhi jata hai" (I am married but I go sometime). Mr Y admonishes him gently and says now that his wife is pregnant and a kid is on the way, he should stop it. Mr X agrees and says he would stop it. Somewhere I have a feeling Mr X will succumb to temptation once or twice more before he finally stops doing it. I don't judge him. I love his honesty. There are so many of us who cheat on their spouses but use clever word play to blame it on something else other than their own weaknesses in resisting temptations. The way Mr X stood up for me, I am confident he will stand up for his family when the need arises.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mr Z turns to me and says that you must be coming from a rich family. I don't know what to tell him. We all like to believe we are middle class and there is lot more money to be made before we can call ourselves rich. I mutter a Yes. He says even if he had a lot of money, he wouldn't have the courage to be alone on a motorcycle like this. I felt really good. Coming from a truck driver, it meant a lot to me. Truck drivers are tough guys. Changing a tyre of a truck can get you killed and driving a truck through bad roads is one of the toughest things in the world to do. A motorcycle trip is not that difficult if you think about it. I wonder why a truck driver who has gone to so many states in his truck feel that way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I kind of get it why he feels that way. I am lucky to be born in the right social and economic class. Truck drivers are generally unlucky in that front. My view of the world differs from theirs. I am treated nicely by most people. It is only my words or actions that can make a person hate me. I am smart enough to know what kind of words could make the other person hate me and wise enough most of the times not to say it. I have had conversations with truck drivers - here and once in Ladakh. They are the easiest pickings for most policemen, Octroi officials and local goons. Their worldview is defined by their experiences and the experiences I have, are not something they tend to have. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In hindsight, I love the fact that my bike broke down twice in the trip and I got to spend some time with truck drivers. The world has been segregated on economic lines and very hardly do people get to interact with people from a different economic class as equals. Till the time we don't get to have these interactions how are we supposed to trust people from a different economic class. </span><span style="font-size: large;">When we become adults it is inevitable that our interactions become more frequent with people who are professionally in equivalent positions.</span><span style="font-size: large;">The sad part is even as children we will fail to have these interactions. My children and his children are never going to be in the same school even if we both end up living in the same city. I start thinking if he was stuck in his truck in the middle of the road and me and a group of friends were in our cars, would we have stopped to help him out. I don't quite know the answer to it. I guess I do know the answer and it is something that doesn't make me proud.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mr Y: Tumhara Shaadi ho gaya (Are you married)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Me: Of course not. Do you think if I was married, I would be able to roam around like this</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mr Y: (After all the laughter subsides) Its alright. Travel, roam around and enjoy yourself. But one day you should find a woman and get married. It will make you a better person.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There was something about his words and the way he said it that somewhere deep down, I believed him. If a man with so much love and kindness feels marriage has made his life better, then I think it is safe to believe him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I slept underneath a truck that night. The next morning we woke up early and I bid my goodbyes to these men. Every time I think of this day my heart is filled with warmth. The lunch stop at the waterfall, the waiting at the mechanic shop and the drinking session on the side of the road - there was love and there was laughter. If you were there you would have seen our laughter and if you looked more closely you would have seen the love dancing in the shadows.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-59082707299543129622015-02-19T11:21:00.000-08:002015-06-05T00:30:37.130-07:0015 Life Lessons I Learnt On My 7 Month India Motorcycle Trip<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I have often been asked as to what I have learnt from my 7
month solo motorcycle ride across India. To be honest, I have always fiercely
resisted the urge to learn anything in life. However the only life lesson I have learnt is that no matter how dumb you are, one should always strive to look wise. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">So here I present to you 15 pearls of wisdom I gained riding my motorcycle all across the country. Now, some of them might not feel all that wise. After all, these are my thoughts and my thoughts tend to go wrong a lot of times. Like the time, I thought that pretty woman living next door was totally into me. Oh, I digress. You guys just read on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">But trust me on the points 11 to 15. I can absolutely vouch for them</span></div>
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<u style="font-size: x-large;"><b>1. A Journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">7
months and 30,000 Kms on a motorcycle. The most difficult part is the start.
Once you start something, you are smart enough to figure things out on the go.
It is not that intimidating as it looks.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivF-RNShAZ4Ju41pJ3v8UAoOdfYpV0xXQPp34W2dbGlmEea5_BCSLA1bvVfSt2wR7k1vCrDjgu1lATp3o8hpTdYEV6r6FFo1vAf-FjLCwoVAbwKwSNS1PKhHY3bJiJCVPcX3XRwv7qqUY/s1600/point+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivF-RNShAZ4Ju41pJ3v8UAoOdfYpV0xXQPp34W2dbGlmEea5_BCSLA1bvVfSt2wR7k1vCrDjgu1lATp3o8hpTdYEV6r6FFo1vAf-FjLCwoVAbwKwSNS1PKhHY3bJiJCVPcX3XRwv7qqUY/s1600/point+01.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">However, I don't mind if that impression persists :)</span></span></div>
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<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></u>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><b>2. Ask for help. Not all battles have to be fought alone</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Unexpected
rains, huge traffic block welcomed me as I was about to cross a mountain pass
for the first time in my life in a motorcycle. Slight fear creeps in but I
fight it off like a hero. Start the engine and said to myself “There is no
fucking way in hell I am doing it today” and start heading back. But thanks to
these two riders (Tejasva & Pankaj) I happened to meet and tag along, I was
able to cross the Zojila pass on that day itself and I got over my fear of
mountain passes quicker.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="449" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0dUI7cCZZSKIbgTbMltMfuwLio6oTxdj5VqH-aC0D9ScMBtlYCjr4_GQjNtFyOpmM4AK3sGjfRONvY8dVja33W_lwf-puviA1kZwb_X-zmGZPAkSYcU_n_Hxqehu63N_gMqfm2JJvnY/s1600/point+02.jpg" width="640" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">I
had set out alone on this trip hoping it will make me more independent and
stronger but on the way I realized that with a little help you get there (being
more independent and stronger) faster.</span></span></div>
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<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></u>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><b>3. You are never alone. Someone somewhere is always looking out for you</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">These
four tourists on their way to Leh - Justin, Suraj, Arjun and Nishant (left to
right) from Allahabad happened to be at the spot in Sarchu, Ladakh where I had
a pretty bad accident. They did everything from making sure I was alright,
stopping a truck for me to carry my motorcycle to the next town (Manali) to fix
it, negotiated on the price with the truck driver and loading my motorcycle and
luggage on the truck.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwsv9sEvyCobdIRV3Gg-QgBHBNjnL3kIU7MEnLfcoaPQCGggkPiPqZMGl4Ce11qN9lJHPt8cCIP_4Pm4AmwVSQgSGxTSAvwM30beVzWbTGjCXDasRdyTgeXhA1PfoRD1jWZkOXChGn8-o/s1600/point+03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="451" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwsv9sEvyCobdIRV3Gg-QgBHBNjnL3kIU7MEnLfcoaPQCGggkPiPqZMGl4Ce11qN9lJHPt8cCIP_4Pm4AmwVSQgSGxTSAvwM30beVzWbTGjCXDasRdyTgeXhA1PfoRD1jWZkOXChGn8-o/s1600/point+03.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">The
accident did dampen my spirits and the thought of abandoning the trip did cross
my mind. But thanks to them, I somewhere became confident that in case
something goes wrong – someone or the other will be there to help me out.</span></span></div>
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<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></u>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%;"><b>4. Trust people. Not everyone out there wants to cheat you</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Raju
– the truck driver. We had agreed on Rs 2000 to truck the motorcycle from
Sarchu to Manali. On the way he suggested that I take my motorcycle till Mandi
– further 100 Kms away as he was anyway going till there – for the same agreed
price. He paid for my dinner, we slept the night in the truck and the next
morning paid for the morning snack before making sure that he unloaded my
luggage and the motorcycle in the service centre in Mandi.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="449" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivY1yd4gOsEetLoTL9yVG4_ldu4LeR3V95RGLrNYSSnlZ89pqKKs5yhks6hjlilCBllC9280gIVW7K47lxA02INf9dgy7wfYVjeBkT35joaMg-kCbNqKQ6B6vOWpRuspzs3It6vJ6Zxc8/s1600/point+04.jpg" width="640" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">When
I paid him the Rs 2000 as we had agreed upon, he gave back Rs 400 saying that
the accident had damaged my motorbike pretty bad and I would incur some
expenses fixing it. You can read that story in detail here : <a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/01/truck-drivers-guardians-on-road.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Truck drivers - Guardians on the road</span></a></span></span></div>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"><br /></u>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"><b>5. It is great to help people in need. Sometimes just do it to make their day pleasant</b></u><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Crossing
into Assam from Bhutan on the Samprud Jonkar border I had 7000 in Bhutanese
currency which I needed to convert to Indian Rupees. The 4 Bhutanese policemen
on the border stopped every Indian vehicle getting into Bhutan to fill petrol
from the petrol pump in the Bhutanese side (petrol is cheaper in Bhutan) and in
2 hours converted the entire 7000 Ngultrum into Indian Rupees. They never asked
me any chai pani ka kharcha (commission for the help) for this deed.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></span>
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLTnYmz5zyU0r5uJzbdhXs0LwUy_LZMih_5zd0K97-O2ApMeUz3Q1Te0KwrzK52MouaWFVg-zogd15UFMwtdpZbIOUOp7x52amS2T58tFjmuxgBa7BXzgtoePJ6kQmU-2cT4dNdJuJ1k/s1600/point+05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSLTnYmz5zyU0r5uJzbdhXs0LwUy_LZMih_5zd0K97-O2ApMeUz3Q1Te0KwrzK52MouaWFVg-zogd15UFMwtdpZbIOUOp7x52amS2T58tFjmuxgBa7BXzgtoePJ6kQmU-2cT4dNdJuJ1k/s1600/point+05.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">These
guys helped me just like that. Otherwise I would have had to shell out 10%
commission in the Indian side of the border which I frankly didn’t mind. But
this thing they did - it just made my day.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></u>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><b>6. Believe in the goodness of people. You just might be pleasantly surprised</b></u><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I
reached Moreh on the Manipur – Burma border with Rs 120 in my pocket and came
to know that there were no ATM’s in Moreh. It was already evening. It was a
little awkward for me initially but since I had no other option, I went to the
Tamil Sangam and asked them for a place to be put up for the night for free.
These guys from the Tamil Sangam gave me a place to sleep, bought me dinner and
breakfast the next day.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></span>
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ps89AJTJZUU-k4qmI19aiR4h0KE4sU9MqzFqix_Q6D-Fe8wr1RQzJ9bPWrNACrJSoB17uOr1ER1H4X3ZXkCgaxlE0neFbpgiQohKdQITn7C5qQJJdqz3trnXQ_0vylLqLh6NZ2Zt6Ec/s1600/point+06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ps89AJTJZUU-k4qmI19aiR4h0KE4sU9MqzFqix_Q6D-Fe8wr1RQzJ9bPWrNACrJSoB17uOr1ER1H4X3ZXkCgaxlE0neFbpgiQohKdQITn7C5qQJJdqz3trnXQ_0vylLqLh6NZ2Zt6Ec/s1600/point+06.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Oh by the way one of the guys also gave me Rs 1000 as a gift to keep just in case of an emergency :)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You can read this story in more detail here : <a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/06/the-world-is-much-kinder-place-than.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">A Kind World</span></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><b>7. Be grateful. Never belittle somebody's kindness by offering them money - no matter how poor or rich they are</b></u><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Stuck
in a small village in Manipur where the security situation ensured that
security forces don’t allow me to travel at night. I asked this woman –
Veronica to allow me to sleep for a night in her shop. She says “You are most
welcome” and got me a mat and a pillow. The next morning I tried to insist on
paying her for the place which she sternly refused.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></span>
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOt11PE91iqZalIEaTV33C6Xm1CD87B_Fxo2m2FLXVXsjOrbX4vNYXQQsm3aTTAu9onllYywrc6wtZ2XkLNWMC2OWULL25PybbDe1YnpWB-PSIeBhbWvAokGWuKBmvSoMIanzWM9SDJQ/s1600/point+07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOt11PE91iqZalIEaTV33C6Xm1CD87B_Fxo2m2FLXVXsjOrbX4vNYXQQsm3aTTAu9onllYywrc6wtZ2XkLNWMC2OWULL25PybbDe1YnpWB-PSIeBhbWvAokGWuKBmvSoMIanzWM9SDJQ/s1600/point+07.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">She
was poor. I could see that. I thought I was helping her. But inadvertently I was
belittling her kindness. Every time I think of it, I am ashamed of myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You can read the story in more detail here: <a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/08/to-veronica-because-some-stories-are_22.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Veronica</span></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><br /></u>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><b>8. The best way to show your gratitude to people is by taking out time to spend with them. With some alcohol preferably</b></u><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">My
bike broke down and I stopped these truck drivers going in a convoy to help me truck
the bike to the next town where I could get it fixed. Had one of the most
memorable times of my trip with them. Bathing under a waterfall before having
lunch prepared by them and then 3 of them waited with me till the motorcycle
got fixed. They never asked any money and now I knew better and did not try to
belittle their kindness by offering money.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></span>
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhePuNKR2fiw1O8c3QWYAOHaS_BId2Bto4Gh-JLqBXlLhtyDgLhXMU0ozcQj1CNymo6Qvd21jOk_eXAVGM0ILuKZah5Rv8rRTay3hsSLx14OzsLOHMPUMZzHXG4r1fJvVh6OKq3dDiQFFM/s1600/point+08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhePuNKR2fiw1O8c3QWYAOHaS_BId2Bto4Gh-JLqBXlLhtyDgLhXMU0ozcQj1CNymo6Qvd21jOk_eXAVGM0ILuKZah5Rv8rRTay3hsSLx14OzsLOHMPUMZzHXG4r1fJvVh6OKq3dDiQFFM/s1600/point+08.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I
just bought some whisky and we drank on the side of the road where they had
parked their trucks for the night and that night I slept under the truck before
bidding them my goodbyes the next morning :)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">You can read that story in detail here : <a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2015/04/love-dancing-in-shadows-masked-by.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Manipur Truck Drivers</span></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><br /></u>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><b>9. You don't always have to keep your guard up. Go with the flow sometimes. Specially if there is alcohol involved</b></u><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The
roads are bad and it is dark and there are no signs of the highway. Two men on
a motorcycle (Cmon & Rilla) – I ask them for directions to the highway. They are going in that
direction and I follow them for some 10 to 15 odd Kms or maybe more. And the
next thing I know is that after helping me find a lodge in Panisagar on the
highway for the night – the three of us are having dinner together. Somewhere in between a round of beer and two rounds of whisky were also consumed. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></span>
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_hCHIIf3GUaJ_fBfJ7D6tnd3PJXLVK5h5PK8KDuxKX8FG2pXmgDIujL422lzDun6ldTdKJpnK1yQnNQccDgiOFcDP4mhB92bR992ifBBYkVxnjQieDlSafz7Y2YxmWXGlOsFv9pBqNSE/s1600/point+09.jpg" width="640" /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Oh
all paid by them just in case you were wondering</span></span></div>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"><br /></u>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"><b>10. Believe in serendipity. It happens in real life too</b></u><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; text-align: justify;">Cruising
along on a deserted highway in a God forsaken place, listening to songs on your
ipod and someone in a SUV overtakes you and waves you to stop. Lot of things
going through your head at that time and none of them are pretty. Then you take
a look at the man waving at you. He kind of looks familiar and suddenly the
irritation turns into unparalleled joy because this guy is one of your closest
friends. And you thought this only happens in movies :)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MaM7K_LGQimwMj7QmDrL1kkSkVqwE5qcGrolHjkDviLJ3tXN3jpYBgOTYK7bo4XCg0uFIIsDzXcg4UtQtdtybwiqPViSNlMkNkjl_gnMYVYRvCPttWC7p05Uk99P7Bkdw5b38wO6qTE/s1600/point+10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MaM7K_LGQimwMj7QmDrL1kkSkVqwE5qcGrolHjkDviLJ3tXN3jpYBgOTYK7bo4XCg0uFIIsDzXcg4UtQtdtybwiqPViSNlMkNkjl_gnMYVYRvCPttWC7p05Uk99P7Bkdw5b38wO6qTE/s1600/point+10.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Inaka
Chishi – a very close friend whom I hadn’t met for 18 months and I just bump
into him unexpectedly, somewhere 60 odd Kms before Cuttack, in the middle of
nowhere.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<script>
(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"></span>
</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><u><b>Now to the part I can absolutely vouch for</b></u></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><br /></u>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><b>11. A man's crotch always needs some attention</b></u><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GyRXMxCFc2s25fB_2gCJM6Fm6qwmIDhwWy_5F_AAxK14QVpXEm2dpuRzFhCL_JYMCLWR6ZzpMhHSKA6YVyN1OQRlKefvftY3yAPphO8UNZ1AuDhNGJ_1XAfUE4gbpp2cOcSS9-dELVQ/s1600/point+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GyRXMxCFc2s25fB_2gCJM6Fm6qwmIDhwWy_5F_AAxK14QVpXEm2dpuRzFhCL_JYMCLWR6ZzpMhHSKA6YVyN1OQRlKefvftY3yAPphO8UNZ1AuDhNGJ_1XAfUE4gbpp2cOcSS9-dELVQ/s1600/point+11.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Well, India is a hot country and it gets sweaty all over. Especially with the riding gear and all. Keep it handy. Gives a lot of relief :)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="line-height: 115%;">12. Maut Aur Tatti Kabhi Bhi Aa Sakti Hai (Death and </span><span style="line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">Dysentery</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> can strike anytime)</span></b></u><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiSsK7A8MP4F1U1B_7tKWx66EQkzeawVbjO52nar-lGQiF0B-AYbAuuJhPfnGMmCBDYitS21EnTa2Uar6GM-wGOo_Qdi0MxGXSHDWK-WqZCJEAIzNmOg4DnXjijsGtxXFaI3V9ktH7jcU/s1600/point+12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiSsK7A8MP4F1U1B_7tKWx66EQkzeawVbjO52nar-lGQiF0B-AYbAuuJhPfnGMmCBDYitS21EnTa2Uar6GM-wGOo_Qdi0MxGXSHDWK-WqZCJEAIzNmOg4DnXjijsGtxXFaI3V9ktH7jcU/s1600/point+12.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Not
everything about a motorcycle trip is romantic. Shit happens. The only thing
you can do is to be prepared. I had to take a dump on the side of the road
here. I am surely not mentioning which place this is</span></div>
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<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: justify;"><b>13. AurTatti Bar Bar Aa Sakti Hai (And Dysentery can strike more than once)</b></u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjOVkFZAhma1p_OeI00TsuXXCTRrSYIPe8AN4H4zhngPLX6awowsAGHeNcYnOXVJQ_oTrjZLC0NAf-O2HDlsHRG8rO6vvtlxa5Y9hWrqqOLeBsQc8ZJT2b9JhJqNb8587ka41n66NU1H0/s1600/maut_tatti_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjOVkFZAhma1p_OeI00TsuXXCTRrSYIPe8AN4H4zhngPLX6awowsAGHeNcYnOXVJQ_oTrjZLC0NAf-O2HDlsHRG8rO6vvtlxa5Y9hWrqqOLeBsQc8ZJT2b9JhJqNb8587ka41n66NU1H0/s1600/maut_tatti_2.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Yes here also. Like I said not everything about a motorcycle ride is romantic. Just i</span><span style="line-height: 115%;">n
case you are wondering, I had to take a dump on the side of the road 3 times.
Always keep tissues and a bottle of water handy :)</span></span></div>
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<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"><b>14. Women will not go crazy over you just because you are riding a motorcycle</b></u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">Well, if you look like Tom Cruise then maybe</span></span></div>
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<u style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 115%; text-align: justify;"><b>15. But..... CHILDREN LOVE YOU</b></u><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Children
waving or smiling at you makes you forget any awkwardness you may feel while
riding in unknown territories</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">They just have a way of making you feel welcome and you no
longer feel out of place.</span></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></u></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">About Me:</span></b></u></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><i><span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>You can find more information by clicking on my</i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-24185060097854248442015-02-13T15:09:00.002-08:002015-02-20T13:22:08.056-08:00Wagah Border - Jingoistic For Some, Patriotic For Others But Entertainment For All<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Wagah Border - the beating retreat ceremony is a spectacle to witness. Amritsar was never a part of my plan in this trip but when I reached Chandigarh, I just made a slight detour to experience this. A lot of it seems unnecessary jingoism to me but I can't deny the fact that it is entertaining.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Amritsar town to Wagah border is a good 30 Km ride. I was cruising along on my motorcycle and it started raining. Raining is a mild term I use, it felt more like a heavy artillery shelling. Drenched to my balls, I reach the border. The rain had stopped now but the wet clothes I am donning do not bring any cheer. The optimist in me tries to find a silver lining in this cloud. The rain may at least ensure lesser rush for the ceremony and finding a good spot to watch the ceremony should be easier. The thought brings back the smile on my face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, not for long because this was the sight at the entrance</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeK4sGPUZQRC7HhnCRDHKYooa5kxbDVRzJkghaId1ylDn3gbSHr-qsnc3e9HJlG0GYvy9tG3yKwJqZ4LZ_qEhSOs_wDajms6rKvm7HtAWXZMyE78Pa-xiP3qHv3IbN13QgW1Zyy_XEac/s1600/DSCN1565.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeK4sGPUZQRC7HhnCRDHKYooa5kxbDVRzJkghaId1ylDn3gbSHr-qsnc3e9HJlG0GYvy9tG3yKwJqZ4LZ_qEhSOs_wDajms6rKvm7HtAWXZMyE78Pa-xiP3qHv3IbN13QgW1Zyy_XEac/s1600/DSCN1565.JPG" height="364" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The optimist in me again tries to find a silver lining in this cloud. With such crowds, the sloganeering war from both sides would be a fun spectacle. I clear my throat. However soft spoken I am, today I have to shout. I have to shout for my country. I along with my countrymen have to drown out the voices coming from the other side. After some 10 minutes of jostling through this heavy crowd which could put peak hour Mumbai local train crowd to shame, I finally reach the seating area</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The crowd was maddening. I don't think I'll be getting any seats on this side of the gate.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuDzITAwvIBiS99A7JCMYkF9QmtPdxfrDHFvnLA-9JhH9uPC5p9D3KZtSkeMI1Mnq7olwbkYoDE6cox2ly5jSUbTuzW41-P3aKxrPHB8NV2Ij_eMQrJwKCtyhcWHDEprDXAz1KJ6p_BwM/s1600/DSCN1567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuDzITAwvIBiS99A7JCMYkF9QmtPdxfrDHFvnLA-9JhH9uPC5p9D3KZtSkeMI1Mnq7olwbkYoDE6cox2ly5jSUbTuzW41-P3aKxrPHB8NV2Ij_eMQrJwKCtyhcWHDEprDXAz1KJ6p_BwM/s1600/DSCN1567.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I gaze over to the other side and it disappoints me </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpW6Wy92heokzmp-Og2mTm3fmclQkRaoJ8Q8Soe_OVQrO_zoRpBajYy0JOgHsXsPtL9hQNB29LLEa4iee04pteir96vUDq7ii5qaPv4CCuq59S8LuCCUsfwN4oXCZBe2XamRjgokRreN4/s1600/DSCN1571.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpW6Wy92heokzmp-Og2mTm3fmclQkRaoJ8Q8Soe_OVQrO_zoRpBajYy0JOgHsXsPtL9hQNB29LLEa4iee04pteir96vUDq7ii5qaPv4CCuq59S8LuCCUsfwN4oXCZBe2XamRjgokRreN4/s1600/DSCN1571.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The rows are all empty on that side. It seems that the Pakistanis do not love their country as much. Although I don't blame them for that. Nothing worthwhile about that country. But these many empty seats. For a moment I wished I was on the other side just to cheer them up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">On the other hand, the Indian side feels like a carnival. Shouts of 'Hindustan Zindabad', 'Bharat Mata Ki Jai' drown out any voices if at there were any from the other side. To give you a glimpse</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There is some music and dancing involved</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://ytimg.googleusercontent.com/vi/xQqha24T2ko/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/xQqha24T2ko?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There is some shouting involved. Sometimes one doesn't even know what is being said</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://ytimg.googleusercontent.com/vi/mEU-RBijctA/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mEU-RBijctA?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finally the start of the ceremony. It is heartening to see women lead the ceremony on the Indian side</span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://ytimg.googleusercontent.com/vi/7VVOZe-YpzE/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7VVOZe-YpzE?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you have reached till this point you must definitely watch this video by <a href="https://www.facebook.com/EastIndiaComedy" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">East India Comedy</span></a> where stand up comedian <a href="https://www.facebook.com/hornysindhi" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Atul Khatri</span></a> explains the Wagah Border spectacle. It couldn't have been described better :)</span></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-size: large;">About Me:</span></b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-26331878473723402712015-02-08T02:43:00.001-08:002015-02-08T14:39:18.720-08:00The Soldier In Kashmir <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Tr8o2FmxXAEpAMr_8IJafo2rTtQcTw4jlwmIkLyIHaDnsbaM6SCX2gag9EU4tpPiNXVTdiwKPOkvWQJIV555tGDypK_iVQd4STpbFODyQ1eRNoX4QgB2JuVDKhekur2BF_JNvkRHIeo/s1600/soldier.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Tr8o2FmxXAEpAMr_8IJafo2rTtQcTw4jlwmIkLyIHaDnsbaM6SCX2gag9EU4tpPiNXVTdiwKPOkvWQJIV555tGDypK_iVQd4STpbFODyQ1eRNoX4QgB2JuVDKhekur2BF_JNvkRHIeo/s1600/soldier.jpg" height="248" width="400" /></a></div>
<a href="https://www.saddahaq.com/" target="_blank">Image Source</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have just crossed Ramban - the northernmost I have ever been in this country and I am about to enter the famed Jawahar tunnel. Just about at the entrance a soldier stops me. He asks me for an id and then lets me go. Inside the tunnel, I am filled with excitement. On the other side of this 2.5 Km tunnel is the Kashmir valley. I exit the tunnel and pretty soon a yellow Border Roads Organization board tells you in bold letters "FIRST VIEW OF KASHMIR VALLEY. HAVE A BREAK. VIEW POINT"</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48Lx8RLBDOsnDfJW88duomLtjIOMrMlYYUc9_kAB8vHjLxXC1Li7JG3h3b19243bgtg4C8EYKi7dpzsIulfcTv1ygs_4yb1Q6Zuq9-DTU8baERx1FsJ6pAt-eVm6qMkUlzkX68P9vcn8/s1600/view.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48Lx8RLBDOsnDfJW88duomLtjIOMrMlYYUc9_kAB8vHjLxXC1Li7JG3h3b19243bgtg4C8EYKi7dpzsIulfcTv1ygs_4yb1Q6Zuq9-DTU8baERx1FsJ6pAt-eVm6qMkUlzkX68P9vcn8/s1600/view.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I take a break and have a look. The first view of the Kashmir valley justifies the hype surrounding Kashmir and something tells you it is going to get better and better. Whatever they had said about Kashmir was pretty much true. Having soaked in the first view of the Kashmir valley, I decide it is time to move forward. I have a final look at the board that says "TITANIC VIEW POINT". It beats me as to why anyone would name a view point "TITANIC". But there is a dark answer in my head. Well what they said about the Kashmir valley was pretty much true and maybe like the Titanic - the Kashmir valley is one ship that is bound to sink.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6syAa5611seKswBFLUUVF62wdWEgxyQv-CY7jrFguIkTmitTEsPa8Sjajvv7nrqEiu8MDWzGKhgm8oVmNP2vmxRb6FhB5dp0i2c7pNnYi6XZi50GfcUUhqv71rQBOdgeyhmNxBoIyJs/s1600/titanic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6syAa5611seKswBFLUUVF62wdWEgxyQv-CY7jrFguIkTmitTEsPa8Sjajvv7nrqEiu8MDWzGKhgm8oVmNP2vmxRb6FhB5dp0i2c7pNnYi6XZi50GfcUUhqv71rQBOdgeyhmNxBoIyJs/s1600/titanic.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.bcmtouring.com/forum/travelogues-north-india-f61/l-d-k-h-m-i-l-e-m-u-n-c-h-e-r-3-i-d-i-o-t-s-t55315-3/" target="_blank">Image Source</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I ride down the road and soon the sight of a gun wielding soldier guarding the highway greets you. Every 500 m or so there happens to be soldier guarding the highway. A man holding a gun is appealing only when you completely trust him. I trust him completely. My father was in the Army and I knew if anything goes wrong for me, I can count on the Army to help me out. Moreover I am a tourist on a motorcycle. Motorcycles have a very romantic appeal to them which cuts across barriers of religion, caste, nationalities. Sometimes it even cuts across the barrier of looks. Even though the soldier over there doesn't know me, I believe he trusts me too. But when dark thoughts have entered your mind, it is difficult to get rid of them. I want to stop and click a picture but I don't. I want to stop and smoke a cigarette but I don't. What if the soldier calls me out and my response fails to amuse him and he pulls the trigger ? What if he is suspicious of me and pulls the trigger ? What if the soldier is just momentarily scared and pulls the trigger ? But then how can a soldier be scared. Soldiers are heroes and aren't heroes supposed to be fearless ? Still I decide that the smoking could wait. Smoking is not a habit I am proud of. It kills but I tend to take my chances with it because it kills you over time. Bullets are different. From what I have heard they tend to kill you immediately. I would rather not take a chance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Touring on a motorcycle is a lot of things. Perhaps the most important of it is the expression of your freedom. Often in our everyday lives we feel shackled. On the road, in lands unknown to you, riding a motorcycle gets you rid of these shackles one by one. The sight of the gun however unsettled me. The ones holding the gun were my own people. I have been raised in Army cantonments. I can pass gun wielding soldiers without batting an eyelid. It's those dark thoughts that have entered my mind. I am not able to get rid of them. I carry on. I am not a local Kashmiri who has to live his whole life under the shadow of the gun. I am just a tourist and in a few days I'll be out of the valley.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dusk is about to set in and Srinagar is still some 80 odd Kms to go. I need to hurry a bit. Why the hell are cricket bats hanging on both sides of the road ? Kashmir willow, it suddenly dawns on me. The shops on both sides of the road are selling cricket bats. There are posters of cricket stars outside those shops. I can spot one Sachin Tendulkar, one M S Dhoni. The rest are all Saeed Anwar, Inzam ul haq, Shahid Afridi. Pakistani cricketers on the wall. It does not shock me. If there was an Imran Nazir or an Ijaz Ahmed poster I would definitely be shocked. But questions arise. Are they genuine fans of these Pakistani cricketers or are they trying to send out some political message ? It unsettles me a bit. Should I be hiding the dependent card in my wallet that can reveal the Army background into some obscure corner in my luggage pack ? I carry on. After all I am just a tourist and I'll be out of the valley in a few days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It is almost 8 p.m when I reach my hotel in Srinagar that a friend had arranged. The hotel staff is pretty intrigued. A man on a motorcycle strapped with luggage is an intriguing sight and I carry a lot of luggage. I am on a 7 month motorcycle trip and my whole world is traveling along with me. The seven pieces of luggage on my motorcycle reflects that. One of the hotel staff Tanvir, a handsome chap in his mid twenties is very excited. One of the perks of traveling in a motorcycle is the kind of awe you inspire in a lot of people you happen to meet. It is good for your ego and in hotels and restaurants service standards tend to improve a bit for you. He rushes to help me untie the luggage from my bike and carry it to my room and I settle in.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I come down for dinner and there I see the manager of the hotel with a few of his friends. They are interested in my story. They ask me questions and I answer them politely and honestly. Then they ask me "What does your father do". Thoughts race in my head. Should I tell them that he was an Army officer and now retired ? In most other places in the country, I mention my Army roots at the drop of a hat. Here I was in contemplation. These are extremely nice people but then the manager did try his luck to sell me the room at a higher rent. They seem to speak in a conspiring manner among themselves after every answer that I give them. But then it could just be the way Kashmiri sounds and one of them does look like he has a hard time understanding Hindi. Maybe they are just making fun of my looks in a language I don't understand. This thought enrages me. If I had a gun, I would kill them all right now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I tell them "He was in the government service but now retired and settled in Kerala". I smile in my head. It was a masterstroke. I do not lie but I hide my Army roots too. Then I look at them. These people do not seem to be connected to insurgents in any way and my Army roots just wouldn't have mattered to them. Call it the dark thoughts in my head, I still am not able to trust them. I excuse myself and search for Tanvir. I find him standing near the kitchen. I ask him if there is a place nearby from where I could get some rum. He tells me to not bother, he will get it for me. He then asks if he could take my motorcycle to the market to get me my rum. I am reluctant. What if he gets into an accident or something ? I have the whole country to cover after this. I look at him. He is very excited and looks with a lot of expectation. I give him the keys and tell him to get a bottle of coke too. After all, everyone talks about the need for the Army to build bridges of trust with the local Kashmiri population. I am not in the Army but I'll just take the liberty of being one by way of association. Maybe this gesture could become one of the bricks in that bridge.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I finish my dinner and walk near the gate waiting for Tanvir to get back. I hear the sound of my motorcycle approaching and I can see the slight discomfort Tanvir is in. The coke bottle doesn't fit his pockets so he is carrying it in his mouth. It is quite a funny sight. I take the rum and the motorcycle keys and head off to my room and pour myself a drink. I sip my drink and I think of the day gone by. I think of the gun wielding soldier in the highway, I think of the sports shop adorned with posters of Pakistani cricketers. Guns may or may not kill people but it can definitely kill the trust in them. It doesn't matter whether you are holding the gun or whether you are living under its shadow. My thoughts are interrupted by a knock in the door. Tanvir stands outside.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I got up to open the door with another set of thoughts racing through my head. Maybe they came to know my Army roots and Tanvir stands outside holding a gun, ready to spray me with bullets. I gulp down my drink. If I am going to meet my maker tonight, I should be able to tell him that I finished my drink. I open the door. Tanvir is there and he mutters something. I don't understand. I ask him what happened and listen more attentively this time. He tells me that he hurt the inner part of his lips while carrying the coke in his mouth. Then he pulls out his lips from his fingers and shows it to me. I really can't see anything and I don't understand his point of telling me all this. Maybe he expected more gratitude from me. I guess that one thank you I said at that time was not enough. I try to figure out what he wants. Was he hoping that I kiss him ? He is a handsome man no doubt but I am not into men like that. Suddenly the thought of being sprayed by bullets seemed a much better option.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We stand there in silence for a brief moment. Tanvir then breaks the silence and asks "Can I have some alcohol ?" I heave a sigh of relief. I smile and say "sure". I pour him a drink. A large peg. He pours some more rum in it, adds maybe 10ml of water and gulps it down in one shot. I hadn't even taken the first sip from the drink that I had poured for myself. I thought I'll have a conversation with him and build some bridges of trust. I ask him if he needs another drink. He declines. He gets up and leaves saying he has some work to attend to but he will be back with his cousin Tariq in a while. He asks me not to sleep and he goes out. I keep sipping my rum and wait for them. In about 15 minutes they both come to my room. I pour extra large pegs for both of them. Tanvir adds 10ml of water to it. Tariq fills up the remaining glass with coke. They both gulp it down. Maybe its a Kashmiri thing. Tariq isn't really blessed in the looks department. Compared to Tanvir who is strikingly handsome, Tariq is pretty plain looking. He is pretty plain looking even if you compare him to a rock. What he lacks in looks, he makes up in speech. Older and more sensible, he tells me about the places I should be checking out the next morning. Shankaracharya Mandir, Nishat Garden, Shalimar Garden and then the Hazrat bal. I make a mental note. Tariq & Tanvir leave now but before leaving we have made plans for a party in my room after dinner the next day. I'll be getting the alcohol and they will be getting some weed. I look forward to the next day. More so for the night. Maybe I will be able to build those bridges.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The next morning, I visit all the touristy places Tariq had mentioned. I leave my Army dependent card in my room. I am being safe. One could say a scared too. The Army is not really very popular in these parts. Am I being a little paranoid here ? The chances of finding that person who hates the Army so much so as to harm me - someone who is just a son of a retired Army officer is minuscule. Even more minuscule is the chance that he would happen to glance through my wallet to find out my Army roots. Still I won't take that chance. In places where guns are a common sight, trust becomes the first casualty. I spend the whole day roaming around in my motorcycle and stopping around to see places. Srinagar is a beautiful city. I have spent the whole day admiring it. The Dal lake, the Mughal road along the Dal lake, the gardens, the mountains in the background. It is the kind of beauty that makes you say a small prayer for peace. It is almost dark and I head back to my hotel. I make a stop at the liquor shop and pick up a bottle of rum. A bigger bottle tonight. After all there is a party in my room.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tariq sees me carrying the bottle of rum up my room. He smiles. I smile. I have done my part of the deal. He says "We will come in the night". Something about the way he said it, I knew he had done his part of the deal. There is going to be a party tonight. I freshen up, wile away some time and head down for dinner. After dinner I head up to my room and wait for them. It takes a while but they show up. Tariq bought along some sort of a green salad with him. Sweet on his part but I really don't give a damn. What I give a damn about is the other green stuff which was his part of the deal. He takes out the weed and keeps it on the table. I smile in my head. This is going to be fun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We start drinking. They gulp down their drinks while I tend to hold it longer but refills are done at the same time. We smoke a joint. We drink some more. The conversations which started with lame, cliched questions and the lame responses to it has now moved on to more interesting and intellectual stuff. Women, Our love life or the lack of it in our lives. Tariq looks like a man who has never been with a woman and has resigned to that fate. Tanvir has that mix of rage and sadness in short bursts that a jilted lover experiences. He rants on and on about the girl he loves and how her father is opposed to the union because he is poor and the girl is rich. Tariq and me have that mix of amusement and concern in short bursts that a friend of a jilted lover experiences. I try to slip in a conversation about the insurgency situation in Kashmir. They give me one or two sentences on how it was bad earlier but now things are better. Then they again start talking about women. I am relieved. When twenty something men are more interested in talking about women than politics you know that the world is a better place. However it can also be that they don't trust me enough. It was a crazy night. We drank. We smoked. I learnt some Kashmiri swear words. We tried to fix a light bulb standing on a plastic chair and we failed. We managed to break the chair though. Somewhere in this camaraderie I thought of slipping in my Army roots to them. I don't. I guess even I didn't trust them enough.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am up early morning and fixing up my luggage on the motorcycle when Tariq is ready with the toast and butter as promised by him last night. It was complimentary as the manager would only arrive by 8 in the morning and he did not have to know. Tanvir just about manages to wake up in time to see me off. By 7 I am off. I ride through the Mughal road on the side of the Dal Lake. It is beautiful. I say a small prayer for peace. Kargil my next stop is some 200 odd Kms away. I was finally going to get out of the valley. The gun wielding soldier, the skepticism of my interactions with people in Srinagar - everything is slowly fading away. I am out of Srinagar, I have crossed Ganderbal and I am on my to Sonamarg. Just when I thought everything was fading away, I see a gun wielding soldier standing guard in a small tea shop along the highway a little ahead. I decide to stop for some tea, cigarettes and possibly a conversation with him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The soldier is a soft spoken guy from Bihar. He has a wife and two children residing in Bihar. He and the tea shop owner share a chemistry bought upon by a need for humans to interact with each other who have been put together by some order of fate. I wonder how much they trust each other. I have my tea and I am smoking a cigarette. I offer him one. He doesn't smoke. We are talking about the weather and the road conditions and the distances and the time I would take to reach certain places on the way. My mind wanders to other thoughts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our nation is a nation bereft of heroes. The forces are one of the few institutions which we look up to every single time when we need to feel good about ourselves. They are our heroes. In our quest to proclaim them as heroes, we often forget they are human. They have fears. The soldier standing there does not hide his identity. He can be recognized from a mile away. He wears his uniform with pride. The locals view him with skepticism. They do not see his fear. The terrorist has the advantage of surprise. He looks like any other local guy. He can be in a salwar or he can be wearing jeans. He can be a 15 year old kid or he can be a 40 year old man. He may come in a motorcycle or he may come in a car. The soldier has to be alert every time someone passes by. He is doing a job that ideally has to be done by the local police force. The political situation in the valley won't allow it. It is not that he fears the enemy. He is trained for that. What he fears is the fact that the enemy is unknown. Maybe this is a discourse that needs to be initiated in the Army's Sadbhavana missions trying to win the trust of the local population. Who says heroes need to be fearless ? The fear can remain. Heroes just need to overcome them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I bid him farewell and head towards Sonamarg. A dark thought enters my head as I leave. What if he gets killed in an attack ? Nobody might even come to know. If it gets some media attention, a wily politician might get some votes. Maybe his wife will get a gas station too. The internet patriots will raise a war cry on social networks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I remember the words my father told me during the Kargil war. We were watching a news telecast at home where people high on emotions and patriotic fervour on camera were going "We are all behind the Indian Army. Teach them a lesson". My father just smiled and remarked "Why behind. Please stand in front"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war - Douglas MacArthur"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The grieving family of the soldier at the end of it all will take solace from the fact that the man who was a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a friend - he died a hero. As for me I am not a soldier. I am just a tourist and in a few hours, I will be out of the Kashmir valley.</span><br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.130085493865247.1073741835.101961743344289&type=3" target="_blank"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">Srinagar picture album from this trip</span></a><br />
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<u><b><span style="font-size: large;">About Me:</span></b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-58539256493109968392015-01-28T08:01:00.000-08:002015-06-12T09:54:24.982-07:00Mizoram's Taj Mahal - K.V Paradise On The Outskirts Of Aizawl<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Mizoram was the one state where I can claim with absolute conviction that I had no clue as to what could be done. In most other states I knew a place or two of tourist significance which I could head to if that feeling starts creeping in that there are better things to do while traveling than just searching for a bar and sitting down for a drink. The only things that I knew about Mizoram was<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>The capital of Mizoram is Aizwal. Its only when I reached there and took out my lonely planet guide that I found out its spelt as 'AIZAWL' and not 'AIZWAL'. Also its pronounced as 'eye - zol'</li>
<li>There might be a place called 'Dinpui' in Mizoram. This was the middle name of a friend of mine which I always found funny. She insisted that it was the name of her mother's village in Mizoram. I am not sure. Maybe it is or maybe her parents had a sense of humour.</li>
<li>Mizoram is a dry state. A dry state in India just means liquor at a higher price in the black market. So the bar option was kind of unavailable.</li>
</ol>
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So I knew, I had to find a place or two of touristy significance when I reach in Aizawl. I took out my lonely planet guide and this place called K.V Paradise struck my attention.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-NluVKidddNQoQXXXYTfRh62MUyhDdyFzK8bgNeORjxF-AsqZdbAs3rZ8GcG2NSkz2HSC07kAkwvuVWuTqd95a2zD3HAu_n6v5prY9FYcxUEGlFMaAP0HF8Xji4ihgmyOSpMx1oeNaE/s1600/mizo-taj-mahal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-NluVKidddNQoQXXXYTfRh62MUyhDdyFzK8bgNeORjxF-AsqZdbAs3rZ8GcG2NSkz2HSC07kAkwvuVWuTqd95a2zD3HAu_n6v5prY9FYcxUEGlFMaAP0HF8Xji4ihgmyOSpMx1oeNaE/s1600/mizo-taj-mahal.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/business-week-in-pics/mizo-taj-mahal/slideshow/3831759.cms" target="_blank">Source</a></div>
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A little on the outskirts of Aizawl, on top of the hill in Durtlang, a fleet of stairs take you up to a monumnet which has been dubbed as 'Mizoram's Taj Mahal' by the local populace there</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4AyNcyFJne49UGMetT3FUhqj5xfE9LQR_aSJLzvTOFk1d1KPizZJ-HCa6ndWrTlmtfRT45dXVjo4GCoe6ENRxUC8agtHC79nZyMBUnoxWKcGo9iDho2ivLbixvEELEbWtoSWzz1Q4HY/s1600/DSCN3530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4AyNcyFJne49UGMetT3FUhqj5xfE9LQR_aSJLzvTOFk1d1KPizZJ-HCa6ndWrTlmtfRT45dXVjo4GCoe6ENRxUC8agtHC79nZyMBUnoxWKcGo9iDho2ivLbixvEELEbWtoSWzz1Q4HY/s1600/DSCN3530.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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The story goes that when Rosanpuii Varte died in a car accident in Nov 2001, her husband Khawlhring Chhawnthuama used his entire savings and energy to create this three - storey mausoleum in her memory</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ikhExwT4Q5IWyKlNuc5Un_Un_z6InQVSAmJoa_JIOhPtvhUH3dujmuZLHAkMmCE66Jkl1LfQjw9fuMoWjZffSWJ3dZEy4vO9osh2TzmWhZePY2-bkUP0xo8w6E04WK59XT8lpuULFoQ/s1600/kv-paradise-aizawl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ikhExwT4Q5IWyKlNuc5Un_Un_z6InQVSAmJoa_JIOhPtvhUH3dujmuZLHAkMmCE66Jkl1LfQjw9fuMoWjZffSWJ3dZEy4vO9osh2TzmWhZePY2-bkUP0xo8w6E04WK59XT8lpuULFoQ/s1600/kv-paradise-aizawl.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.mapsofindia.com/india-tour/mizoram/kv-paradise-a-monument-of-love/" target="_blank">Source</a></div>
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The name K.V Paradise comes from the initials of the names of the couple. Khawlhring (K) Chhawnthuama & Rosanpuii Varte (V). As Khawlhring says in 'The Telegraph' article dated March 25, 2006 </div>
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"<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The disaster of my life occurred on November 27, 2001. We were planning to go abroad. She was an enthusiastic traveller and prior to the tragedy, she had suggested we save money for the trip. We managed to save Rs 31 lakh for the purpose. But when she was gone, I found I had no use for the money. It was then that I decided to build a memorial in her name</i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExZRL3ZCGB5m2iJcYrBgmGJ_qKThOPlde4SnB6Qv7vZ5NDcut0JDIjsxS1k-rxVHMuo3kt4bgz12Ho3cHcKSuexUeEK-ikgIXqS097kP8mDFqvXeyei_7yeL1YpSOibfJtgHsJ1jM8EE/s1600/DSCN3536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="351" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExZRL3ZCGB5m2iJcYrBgmGJ_qKThOPlde4SnB6Qv7vZ5NDcut0JDIjsxS1k-rxVHMuo3kt4bgz12Ho3cHcKSuexUeEK-ikgIXqS097kP8mDFqvXeyei_7yeL1YpSOibfJtgHsJ1jM8EE/s1600/DSCN3536.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A picture of the couple inside the memorial</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One floor houses the tomb of Varte with portraits of her adorning the walls.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ayhQGGtIqZJxiKkWtst8094jRQ51zObd4qDIBlI-AkMVdQR99l0llLLcYBhifG3mR3rGTNsh6uidIXtTjnZRnuEmcCUtb-68Wd8T_hp3m9aM02Wsj-FerfF3uFyZzQ12qKee0gi5BBM/s1600/DSCN3533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ayhQGGtIqZJxiKkWtst8094jRQ51zObd4qDIBlI-AkMVdQR99l0llLLcYBhifG3mR3rGTNsh6uidIXtTjnZRnuEmcCUtb-68Wd8T_hp3m9aM02Wsj-FerfF3uFyZzQ12qKee0gi5BBM/s1600/DSCN3533.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The upper floor has a closet where her wardrobe set is neatly kept for display inside a specially made see through closet</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4cb5pbpToRTg-qHRgMjOVbP8bDnM6HTakzOFr_7FUQ4DlfhgYplRlcpCyU8NE0pfqP_JS57gEWShIInYJTswzZxd9wxHq3qsKxoc4V5GpVUP7293KOwzUYRn-akMVc-JIgkNHwQnKTrI/s1600/DSCN3534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4cb5pbpToRTg-qHRgMjOVbP8bDnM6HTakzOFr_7FUQ4DlfhgYplRlcpCyU8NE0pfqP_JS57gEWShIInYJTswzZxd9wxHq3qsKxoc4V5GpVUP7293KOwzUYRn-akMVc-JIgkNHwQnKTrI/s1600/DSCN3534.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The spacious compound gets you beautiful views of the Aizawl city and its mountain ranges</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFrIj_2xbU29zjzgu33g-V5RGS5q13H1nV4IBPOnwa5_VXbs5agBC0HnhSye5sHPiojMOmVc6OaMHiDrWM5wujGpsN3us0dcCyBmPbSE-BvO4b6LRj-mJIphLjQAOAWJ3Ss8-MGzx1yg/s1600/DSCN3538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFrIj_2xbU29zjzgu33g-V5RGS5q13H1nV4IBPOnwa5_VXbs5agBC0HnhSye5sHPiojMOmVc6OaMHiDrWM5wujGpsN3us0dcCyBmPbSE-BvO4b6LRj-mJIphLjQAOAWJ3Ss8-MGzx1yg/s1600/DSCN3538.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As quoted in that same Telegraph article</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">"</span><span style="background-color: white;"><i>KV Paradise was built at a cost of Rs 1 crore. The lighting alone costs Rs 6 lakh. The granite and marble flooring came all the way from Rajasthan, the specially designed tinted glasses (12 mm thick) were brought from Chennai and the spectacular fountain near the tomb was sourced from Calcutta. The three crosses on the tomb of his wife, said K. Chhawnthuama, epitomise the Holy Trinity</i>"</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheGXiaTWFqTAUMQdpTiyN4Tq3KDTrJsJi7HHQfTPOtKlVACllTgG9M0XShS3DBv45e_8UOhks26PM9T17MDPCynvMe2aCZXgDLOJNIZiDRx5cxFcLY7QeRr8e1YadNDUgWwEeMkpQo9No/s1600/kv-sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheGXiaTWFqTAUMQdpTiyN4Tq3KDTrJsJi7HHQfTPOtKlVACllTgG9M0XShS3DBv45e_8UOhks26PM9T17MDPCynvMe2aCZXgDLOJNIZiDRx5cxFcLY7QeRr8e1YadNDUgWwEeMkpQo9No/s1600/kv-sunset.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://www.mapsofindia.com/india-tour/mizoram/kv-paradise-a-monument-of-love/" target="_blank">Source</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here is the link of that <a href="http://www.telegraphindia.com/1060325/asp/northeast/story_6011880.asp" target="_blank">Telegraph article</a></span></div>
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Things created out of love has a way of just about pulling the right strings in your heart. Well Mr Shah Jahan, you are not the only romantic in town :)<br />
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<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-73750828000478161202015-01-28T02:57:00.000-08:002015-01-28T07:59:07.084-08:0015 Places In India You Absolutely Must Explore On A Motorcycle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here is the link to my article on scoopwhoop<br />
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<a href="http://www.scoopwhoop.com/inothernews/motorcycle-must-explore/" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">http://www.scoopwhoop.com/inothernews/motorcycle-must-explore/</span></a><br />
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<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-76323009816566854572015-01-12T22:35:00.000-08:002015-02-08T08:52:21.549-08:00How National Highways Are Numbered In India <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Some time back I had gone on this motorcycle trip all across the country and passed through every state in India. I can safely assume that I have rode through quite a few national highways in India. Sometimes I would notice the highway numbers on the milestones on the side of the road. I never gave a fuck. Practically speaking it just doesn't matter when you are riding. I mean if someone were to ask you directions from Jammu to Leh what do you tell them<br />
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<i>1) Take the NH44 from Jammu. When you reach Srinagar take NH1 to Leh</i><br />
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<b>OR</b><br />
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<i>2) Take the highway from Jammu to Srinagar which goes via Udhampur, Rambhan, Banihal. When you reach Srinagar ask for the road to Leh. You will pass through Sonamarg, Dras, Kargil, Lamayuru before reaching Leh.</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Unless you are an absolute geek, I am guessing you would go with option number 2.</span><br />
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Now it is a little amusing as to how the highways are numbered. There seems to be no logic to it. I thought maybe the highways are numbered according to the IQ of the politician who sanctioned it. But then I saw this<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhGjctAfRwB-sP_U9cC1M4UHhCW5NALrvBDvJX7kIXw1RpVvEIj21xo4tB2OTHsVMkDyWmEgMRQ5XKf2evwJez1wT1F8V-dSfG_kFhE1Nfw5J-Tgh2xIb2DRD20Zu7EjdE9oDz8Ggx1g/s1600/DSCN1415.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJhGjctAfRwB-sP_U9cC1M4UHhCW5NALrvBDvJX7kIXw1RpVvEIj21xo4tB2OTHsVMkDyWmEgMRQ5XKf2evwJez1wT1F8V-dSfG_kFhE1Nfw5J-Tgh2xIb2DRD20Zu7EjdE9oDz8Ggx1g/s1600/DSCN1415.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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NH - 147. The number 147 got me perplexed. There is no Indian politician with an IQ in 3 digits. Surely this has to be random. It is only now when I came across this thread in <a href="http://www.quora.com/What-is-the-basis-by-which-National-Highways-are-named-in-India" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Quora</span></a> that I came to know that there is a method to this madness on how the national highways are going to be numbered.</div>
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Just keep in mind that I am talking about the new numbering system, the notification of which came in 28th April 2010. You might still see the old highway numbers on milestones and signboards. They are being replaced. The Indian government is working with the swiftness of a snail high on weed to make sure all the new signboards and milestones are repainted with the new numbers.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Here are the highlights of the new Rationalized Numbering System</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">1) <span style="line-height: 21px;">All </span><b style="line-height: 21px;">East-West</b><span style="line-height: 21px;"> highways now have </span><b style="line-height: 21px;">odd numbers</b><span style="line-height: 21px;">, starting in the North and increasing in number towards the South. In other words, the greater the latitude the smaller the N-H number and vice-versa ie NH-1 in J&K and NH-87 in Tamil Nadu</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2aoNleS2lVHtR0aSAbNKiQP-mjQwpGX8LvJcn7UVSyvrFZP8igWpQtRFFjpbQARL6RSWwv6Ln8GcL4N3E-j2hV6ESsOji59Buesk2LALhkrD9RTrMloCGe0X9Q3aA_Y9bvb6NdLQt5gs/s1600/DSCN1836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2aoNleS2lVHtR0aSAbNKiQP-mjQwpGX8LvJcn7UVSyvrFZP8igWpQtRFFjpbQARL6RSWwv6Ln8GcL4N3E-j2hV6ESsOji59Buesk2LALhkrD9RTrMloCGe0X9Q3aA_Y9bvb6NdLQt5gs/s1600/DSCN1836.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">NH - 1 near Leh, J&K</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">2) S</span><span style="line-height: 21px;">imilarly, all </span><b style="line-height: 21px;">North-South</b><span style="line-height: 21px;"> highways now have </span><b style="line-height: 21px;">even numbers</b><span style="line-height: 21px;">, starting in the East and increasing in number towards the West. In other words, the greater the longitude the smaller the NH number and vice-versa i.e NH-2 in the North-East States of India and NH-68 in Rajasthan & Gujarat</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 21px;">.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jZ2t3Cg2-eYX8OjvZyPVUovvnm-Ozn50mkKdCxliAl7QhcV84R7lESU9rILND1liDjz7Qa-BjbRqh9pgAVOpwSFxN6w2lHAZShBvpL9Hv-Ujg4DC0P6GhY5oZ_HFC-6ZHL9XZgvVtVY/s1600/DSCN3429.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jZ2t3Cg2-eYX8OjvZyPVUovvnm-Ozn50mkKdCxliAl7QhcV84R7lESU9rILND1liDjz7Qa-BjbRqh9pgAVOpwSFxN6w2lHAZShBvpL9Hv-Ujg4DC0P6GhY5oZ_HFC-6ZHL9XZgvVtVY/s1600/DSCN3429.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">NH -2 near Imphal, Manipur</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">3) <b>M</b></span><b style="line-height: 21px;">ajor highways have single- or double-digit numbers. Offshoots of these highways have triple digits</b><span style="line-height: 21px;"> (either with or without a suffix alphabet). For example, offshoots of NH 2 are numbered 102, 202, 302 and 502. Please note that the last two digits indicate the Major Highway.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUrFKP9wKTgZsdObnGftTpfqvFQsM27oFKFy7bu5FF_WprozJ4RAgebuoMhibMu_G2gkjNmTYu-ykRMse_X-gzSKzQOWLjQK0upnN7_ah0gzbAt31sDov8vgvZdVLereP6HB4XHrN9j0/s1600/DSCN3459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUrFKP9wKTgZsdObnGftTpfqvFQsM27oFKFy7bu5FF_WprozJ4RAgebuoMhibMu_G2gkjNmTYu-ykRMse_X-gzSKzQOWLjQK0upnN7_ah0gzbAt31sDov8vgvZdVLereP6HB4XHrN9j0/s1600/DSCN3459.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">NH - 102 from Imphal to Moreh in Manipur</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">4) I</span><span style="line-height: 21px;">n the numbering of the Offshoot Highways, the first digit of the three digit number will indicate the direction i.e if the first digit is odd number it says the road is in East-West direction and if even it indicates North–South direction.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiodz7ze3cKoaFlqSgFeK-tJCt84cbW_4Icv1aBARtBci_obs2Nsz9WF8VJ8tpFA-LtLOzV1w3abmEWgN-3V9rZgPXn32Euatn_IJEN46-sJhQ2q5QwqVKyCOpISwYqKfBsezhQXcMlPU/s1600/P1000052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiodz7ze3cKoaFlqSgFeK-tJCt84cbW_4Icv1aBARtBci_obs2Nsz9WF8VJ8tpFA-LtLOzV1w3abmEWgN-3V9rZgPXn32Euatn_IJEN46-sJhQ2q5QwqVKyCOpISwYqKfBsezhQXcMlPU/s1600/P1000052.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">NH - 108 in Mizoram.The first digit 1 being odd indicates E - W direction of this offshoot road from NH - 8</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 21px;">5) S</span><span style="line-height: 21px;">uffixes A, B, C, D etc are added to the three digit sub highways to indicate very small spin-offs or stretches of sub-highways. For example, 966A, 527D etc</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicn0vJVLfGrdhXpDIFG978OVCIXdDe0JQ397DRlUJHatc2t9TVtnAG_H-ff4CQ8hofp3SNX2JJk8HHNs_keeXce06MCSF38KSL_l0ayGFJeaY0VmmDMf4IzWGSlx8R87miBufLT1twFC4/s1600/DSCN2451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicn0vJVLfGrdhXpDIFG978OVCIXdDe0JQ397DRlUJHatc2t9TVtnAG_H-ff4CQ8hofp3SNX2JJk8HHNs_keeXce06MCSF38KSL_l0ayGFJeaY0VmmDMf4IzWGSlx8R87miBufLT1twFC4/s1600/DSCN2451.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">NH - 527D Raxaul border (Bihar - Nepal)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here is the Renumbered National Highways Map of India</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrAciYvKQGKWHduunIBmAYyHU1d5op4rOjRUrUeyXlbifgNLcZobuFBU1b59Ng15lIzT-jICHv_IECZIao5dg2DiBN6gdwgdDvLpEOwqyB8_jx0xoRAAoF7-YxvqhpW7bjt-0M17eaLt4/s1600/renumbered+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrAciYvKQGKWHduunIBmAYyHU1d5op4rOjRUrUeyXlbifgNLcZobuFBU1b59Ng15lIzT-jICHv_IECZIao5dg2DiBN6gdwgdDvLpEOwqyB8_jx0xoRAAoF7-YxvqhpW7bjt-0M17eaLt4/s1600/renumbered+map.jpg" height="400" width="365" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Renumbered_National_Highways_map_of_India_(Schematic).jpg" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Image Source</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The government of India in its notification says and I quote ".. that existing number of National Highway does not give any indication of its location and direction. Therefore, Ministry has adopted a systematic numbering of National Highways vide above said notification. It will indicate the direction of National Highways whether it is East - West or North - South and also the geographical region where it is located"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You can view the circular <a href="http://dorth.gov.in/writereaddata/sublinkimages/finaldoc6143316640.pdf" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a></span></div>
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But I am not sure if this information going to be of any use in figuring out the location ?</div>
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Lets say I am stranded somewhere in NH 53 and I call up an emergency number and say </div>
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<b>Me:</b> "Hey I am stranded in NH 53"</div>
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<b>Operator:</b> "Sir could you let us know your location ?"</div>
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<b>Me:</b> "You dumb piece of shit. I told you its NH 53. Can't you figure out that its a East West direction road since the highway number is odd and National highways in East West direction are numbered odd in the north to south direction, you can't figure out where I am. What kind of a moron am I dealing with here "</div>
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<b>Operator:</b> "Sorry Sir. My bad. Help should reach you in 30 minutes"</div>
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Call me a skeptical cunt but I don't think help will reach me in 30 minutes with this piece of information. Pardon me for being a bit old school but when I get stranded in a highway I generally tend to ask a passer by about the nearest town and try to pass on that information to the people I might be calling for help.</div>
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The only time I feel this information could be useful to you is if Amitabh Bachchan asks you this question in the Kaun Banega Crorepati.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgooJN6Ph8YO7zyXtgXOXpozpmz49JrZeIbT-PvjxYceF_DMx_UIaj2x3ly7EslrOtVQNaSjMT6cBerMens1qmUWt6iJn28LYQg0r7HnvUPNjwcpJM8tMq7pVyU1gNQc_C-sX0b-IFXI8w/s1600/Kaun-Banega-Crorepati+-+Copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgooJN6Ph8YO7zyXtgXOXpozpmz49JrZeIbT-PvjxYceF_DMx_UIaj2x3ly7EslrOtVQNaSjMT6cBerMens1qmUWt6iJn28LYQg0r7HnvUPNjwcpJM8tMq7pVyU1gNQc_C-sX0b-IFXI8w/s1600/Kaun-Banega-Crorepati+-+Copy.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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North - South direction, the number has to be even. The answer is C, NH - 44. In case you win a big amount on the show because of this blog, please don't be a dick and do send across some of it my way. You could connect with me on my </div>
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<b>1) Facebook page :</b> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">The Clueless Rider</span></a></div>
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<b>2) Instagram Account :</b> <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">thecluelessrider</span></a></div>
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<b>3) Twitter handle :</b> <a href="https://twitter.com/Clueless_Rider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Clueless_Rider</span></a></div>
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And of course through this blog.</div>
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You can have a detailed list of the National Highways in India in this <span style="color: red;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_National_Highways_in_India_by_highway_number" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">wikipedia page</span></a>.</span> </div>
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But however much you talk about the roads and the highways, the best pictures still come a little off the highway</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxeAlpB6QPg1rDB-eLF0Jk1mqF6tmBfaHzK2TEaojgqMd8qVBi5pjStXEXRtcdRN5IeJtzIrY7IdZ-Yhto13FGFMCkB20KKf2Q6YFvvml9o_pnnYeYreYPbnXgtrfxDsLJADrUPkfXxus/s1600/DSCN1865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxeAlpB6QPg1rDB-eLF0Jk1mqF6tmBfaHzK2TEaojgqMd8qVBi5pjStXEXRtcdRN5IeJtzIrY7IdZ-Yhto13FGFMCkB20KKf2Q6YFvvml9o_pnnYeYreYPbnXgtrfxDsLJADrUPkfXxus/s1600/DSCN1865.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Somewhere off the Highway near Leh</span></td></tr>
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<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-4921959608537324282014-10-07T22:45:00.001-07:002015-02-09T06:14:09.849-08:00This Dhaba On The Patna - Purnia Road Serves You Food For Thought<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When I set forth on this solo motorcycle journey, I had hoped I would come out wiser. Traveling they say enlightens people and I was counting on that. Everyday I waited for that flash of brilliance to strike me but it eluded me. When I reached Patna, I even paid a visit to the Bodhgaya temple in search for that elusive enlightenment. Still did not happen. I came back to Patna, drowned my sorrows in alcohol and had pretty much resigned to the fact that I might never be enlightened in life.<br />
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But then God (more popularly known as THE GUY up there) works in mysterious ways. The next morning on my way to Purnia from Patna, somewhere along the way I stopped at a roadside dhaba for breakfast. I sat down and wherever my gaze landed on those Dhaba walls, there were these pearls of wisdom. The enlightenment I was seekin<span style="font-family: inherit;">g everywhere, final</span>ly came to me in this nondescript Dhaba somewhere on the Patna - Purnea highway. I had gone in searching for some food but came out with quite some food for thought. The Dhaba owner wrote this on his walls. Although I don't understand why he needs to explain everything in terms of three things :)<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">1) </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">Three things once out, never come back. Arrow from a bow, </span></b><b><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">words from the mouth and life from the body</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 18px;">.</span></b></span></h2>
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Well, be very sure of what you order in this dhaba. Once you order, he won't entertain any changes even if you immediately want to change your order. Words once out of the mouth cannot be taken back :)</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2) <span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">There are three things nobody can steal from you. Intelligence, Character, Skill</span></span></b></h2>
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I have a feeling he was mocking me. I am a characterless man with zero intelligence and skills. They bloddy well can't steal any of these from me.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">3) <span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Three things that are necessary to remember. Truthfulness, Duties and Death</span></span></b></h2>
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This one is a veiled threat. Do not try to run away from this place without paying for the food. I understand it is my duty to pay for the food or else you could be clobbered to death. </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">4) <span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Three things wait for none. Time, Death and Customer</span></span></b></h2>
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And I waited 18 minutes for my food (I checked). </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">5) <span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">There are three things which can foster enmity between brothers. Money, Wife and Land.</span></span></b></h2>
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Wives being equated with money and land. After all women are just property. So not a male chauvinist :)</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">6) <span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">There are three things which you will only get once in life. Mother, Father and Youth</span></span></b></h2>
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And this man in the picture looks like he has lost all of them. :) </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">7) <span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Three things are better kept covered. Money, Women and food</span></span></b></h2>
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Oh there is a fourth thing that is also better if covered. This quote :)</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">And finally</span></h2>
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<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-35831947845713158252014-08-22T22:54:00.000-07:002015-06-07T02:41:58.573-07:00To Veronica - Because Some Stories Are Very Special (Part 2 of 2)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="color: red;">The underlined text is the first part of the entry that I had already posted. In case you have read the first part, please scroll down to the text that is not underlined</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: red;"><u>Part 1</u></span></b></div>
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<i><u>On the stretch of highway from Imphal to Silchar, there is a patch of around 40 Kms where its just a dirt road.It was highly slushy when I was traveling, due to the rains. I had been advised not to take this road by the hotel staff in Imphal. I had ridden through a few bad stretches across the country and a tinge of arrogance did creep in. I ignored the advise in my arrogance and I can only curse myself.</u></i></div>
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<i><u>Now these weren't the worst of roads I had faced. Elsewhere bad patches extend for about 4 - 5 Kms to a max of 10 Kms. This one stretched a whole 40 Kms and my patience is tested. When your patience is tested, you start with a sarcastic just my luck kind of a look. In a while you start abusing your luck. After that you start pleading with God to change your luck. Then you just stop complaining and start giving yourself a pep talk. This stretch did all that and some more. But somewhere in these slushy roads there is a small village called 'Barak'. You have cities and you have tier 2, tier 3 cities. Similarly you have villages and tier 2, tier 3 villages. Barak was one of them. By the time I reached there it was quite dark and the security situation in Manipur being what it is, the sentry in the CRPF post did not allow me to travel further. I had to wait till dawn to start off again. Frankly I was relieved. The slushy stretch still had another 10 odd Kms and some rest would not hurt me. I just had to find a place to sleep.</u></i></div>
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<i style="text-align: justify;"><u>I ask the CRPF personnel stationed in that check post if there is a hotel or any place nearby wherein I could spend the night. He replied in the negative. Not that I expected a hotel in this village. I was just trying to warm up to him and ask him to give me a place to rest for the night in his bunker or along side his bunker. I had a sleeping bag with me and just needed a roof to rest till dawn and continue on my way to Silchar. So I asked him if I could park my bike near the sentry post somewhere and if he could offer me a place to sleep. I slipped in the fact that my father was an ex Army officer just to shift the odds in my favour. I overestimate my shrewdness. None of the tricks work. The rules dictate that no civilian is allowed in those spaces.</u></i><br />
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<i><u>Rules and procedures I believe, should be followed more in spirit than in letter. People in the ground should be trusted enough to make that call. I could sense the discomfort in the CRPF guy. In my heart I knew he wanted to help me out but he just couldn't risk bending rules. One often thinks the world is an unkind place. But im my experience of this bike trip, whenever I have needed help, be it big or small, people present over there have risen up to the occasion and helped me. I know from his looks that he wants to help me but he does not have the authority to help me out. I still know I can get a place to sleep there if I persist with him. I'll just have to talk to a few other colleagues of his, some seniors, maybe talk to some other senior in some base location on the phone, tell my story to everyone and prove my identity to half of them. I was dead tired and I neither had the will nor the inclination to do all that. I just decided, I'll go to those small shops on the other side of the road and ask them if they could give me a place to sleep for the night.</u></i></div>
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<i><u>The CRPF check post is on the left side of the road just before the steel bridge over a river. On the other side of the road, I head to the first shop I can see to try my luck. It is actually a small two room hut with a window cut out for a makeshift shop- the kind which will have some biscuits, cigarettes, maggi packets, some tetra packs of fruit juices and possibly tea. The door is open and I have a sneak peek of the other room. It is mostly empty. Maybe there is a modest dining table and a bench somewhere in the corner. Also the thatched roof of the hut extends a little from the front wall. I could use that space to park my bike. This place was perfect. I just have to say the right words and my problems are solved. With a hopeful look and the politest smile I could manage, I go up to the window counter of the shop.</u></i></div>
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<i><u>There is a lady, presumably in her early to mid 30's running the shop. She smiles. It is a very kind smile. We exchange simple greetings and I ask her if she has a place she could offer me, where I could sleep for the night. Before I could say anything else she says "You are most welcome". I ask her how much it will cost me. She replies "You are most welcome". I have a feeling that she did not understand my second question. But then I decide to deal with it in the morning. For now I needed a place to sleep very badly. I thank her and I ask her if I could bring my motorcycle to the shop and park it in the space alongside the wall of the hut. She says "Yes". I am a bit relieved - one for the fact that I got a place to sleep the first place I enquired and secondly the fact that I managed it in under 2 minutes. I mean if there is a record for the shortest time you negotiate for a place to sleep when stranded in an unknown village, for all I know I just might have broken it.</u></i></div>
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<i style="text-align: justify;"><u>Meet Veronica</u></i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwsBGESdr8r8ri-MYApBRnPqOY14E4s3TjQugq-zQYOoDTTu0VpbYBHTa4826Ofo-J7xDHCL-8hpEcEHOn3EcwvNaWRvnf1XcZwM7bwKT59yomsWIA6bQB5TVbz5SvxFbYVugGmhqXp6g/s1600/DSCN3509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwsBGESdr8r8ri-MYApBRnPqOY14E4s3TjQugq-zQYOoDTTu0VpbYBHTa4826Ofo-J7xDHCL-8hpEcEHOn3EcwvNaWRvnf1XcZwM7bwKT59yomsWIA6bQB5TVbz5SvxFbYVugGmhqXp6g/s1600/DSCN3509.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Veronica</td></tr>
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<u><b><span style="color: red;">Part 2</span></b></u></div>
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A petite woman with a perpetual look of sadness in her eyes. I kind of know there is something in her life that bothers her, but I do not know what bothers her. I park my bike, keep my stuff in the room and head to talk and have our introductions. She is drunk. There is another man and another woman along with her. The man is also drunk but I am not sure about the other woman. I come to know that they are siblings. Two sisters and a brother sitting together and having a drink - now that is not something you would expect in a tier 4 village in this country. I like the fact that these parts are a bit different from the other parts of the country in this regard. Not the fact that people are drinking, just the fact that women are not specifically being judged by a moral prism because they are drinking. I go to them and over broken English and Hindi we do manage a decent conversation. By the end of it I asked them if there is a place where I could probably get some dinner. Veronica's brother points out that there is a restaurant on the other side of the bridge hardly 200 meters away. I decide to go, have dinner and come back. I had just started walking when Veronica calls out and stops me. I stop. She comes over and says "Wait it is too dangerous". I do not understand. The place is hardly 200 metres away. The road is slushy and yes I have to cross an iron bridge which probably doesn't have enough space if a truck comes in. But I do think I can manage. I mean, I did travel across the length and breadth of the country on my motorcycle and I think managing this 200 meter walk for my dinner should be a piece of cake. Then I see she is carrying a torch and she says "Come with me". Veronica has the friendliness that alcohol sometimes does to you. I try telling her that I'll manage and I don't want to make it inconvenient for her. She looks at me. I don't think she understood me because she - all of 5 feet 0 inches now starts walking with a torchlight towards the bridge, and I - all of 6 foot 3 inches follow her quietly. I guess I am not that good at convincing people as I like to believe.</div>
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We reach the restaurant and I sit down quietly on the wooden bench and the man in the restaurant places my food before me. I eat quietly and Veronica sits on the other side of the table patiently waiting for me to finish my meal. I finish my meal and again she leads with the torchlight on and I quietly follow behind. She asks me something about the meal I just had. I say it was good. She then asks me if I needed something more to eat. I say I am good. She then asks me if I want to drink. I say "No thank you. I do not drink". A split second later I can't believe what I just said. I could definitely use some alcohol. It was a tough, slow, painfully irritating ride and a drink would have been welcome. Throughout my bike trip, I have in fact, actively scouted for alcohol at the end of every day's ride. I would like to claim that I have no idea why I refused a drink but then I would be lying. I very well knew why I refused and I am very ashamed of it.</div>
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It is that thing we call stereotypes. I have always prided myself on the fact that I have refused to entertain any kind of stereotypes, no matter how charismatic the other person is, in trying to convince me of them. But still in that split second - a drunk woman helping me out readily and offering me alcohol and I assume she wanted to sleep with me. A moment later, I was so ashamed of myself. Here was a woman who gave me a place to sleep when I was stranded and as I could now see - all she wanted was someone to talk to. She was reaching out to me but I was reluctant. Yes, she needed intimacy but of a different kind, a kind which I am aware of but I have seldom tried to understand.</div>
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We are back at the shop now and she brings me a mat, a blanket and a pillow from her house nearby. She sits on a chair nearby and ask me if I am tired and whether I would like to sleep. I say No and sit up. Then she starts talking - talking about her husband who had left her 5 years back, talking about her two sons mentioning how beautiful her sons were. She was proud of the elder one as he had ambitions to become an engineer. She was a little worried about the younger one as he wasn't that keen to study and wanted to help his mother run the shop. I mumbled a word here n there in between but mostly I did not say a word. I just thought of the women I interacted with (very few - less than 5 maybe) compared to the men I have interacted with on this whole India trip. Most men I have met on the way when they talk, they tell me about themselves. How they have traveled to distant places, the adventurous things they have done, what they dream of, what they aspire to and then maybe about their children and rarely about their spouses. I also thought about my mother and other women I am close to. I then thought whether I ought to sing praises about the selflessness of women or whether I should be saddened by the fact that a woman is conditioned by the society to find her identity as a wife or a mother. These thoughts continuously run in my head all the while she is talking. After a while she says "You sleep now. Don't be afraid ok. I'll lock the shop from outside. My house is just over there". Her brother joins her now and they sit on the bench near the dining table on the corner of the room. I presume they are about to drink again. I do not know as I just doze off pretty soon.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The room where I slept. Veronica got me a mat, a pillow and a blanket</td></tr>
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Next morning when I woke up, she is already sitting at the shop. I get ready to leave. I ask her how much should I be paying for the room. She says "No need to pay". I try to insist and politely ask again. She says "No need to pay" again this time a little sternly. I was ashamed of my behaviour once again - twice in two days. I again fall in that trap of stereotypes. If it was a rich person who had let me a room to stay, I would have never insulted them by offering to pay them. When a poor person decides to help me, somewhere I feel the need to pay them. Instead of just feeling grateful, I was trying to belittle her kindness by paying her money. So I just decided to buy things from her store. I bought cigarette packets, bought some biscuits and small packets of cake and fruit juices and had them before heading to leave. As I bid my goodbye and was about to start my motorcycle, Veronica comes up to me with a packet of cake and tells me to keep it for the road. I am overwhelmed and I smile and plead that I do not need it. I had stocked some other stuff in my bag from her shop already. I just was not going to take it. </div>
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And then she said "You will feel hungry. Have it. I have nothing much to give. Keep it". I heard that and my eyes welled up. I just took that packet, started my bike and left immediately because tears were about to trickle down my eyes. This is the only time in my 7 month bike trip when I have cried. I just wanted to make sure she doesn't see it. </div>
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This was a extremely bad stretch of road from Imphal to Silchar that I took, which the hotel staff in Imphal had warned me about. I had ignored their advise and was cursing myself the whole time. But in hindsight I am glad I never heeded their advise. When you start a motorcycle trip like this, you always romanticize about such stories. The charm of a motorcycle ride is the way it unexpectedly comes your way and just blows you away. I have had other beautiful, memorable stories in this motorcycle trip but this one was special. This is the first story I think about when I think about my motorcycle trip. I knew this was special because when I started my bike and rode off with tears in my eyes I somewhere knew - I had emerged a better man.<br />
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<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-11992846386835219342014-08-10T23:40:00.000-07:002015-02-08T08:54:51.006-08:00To Veronica - Because Some Stories Are Very Special<script async="" src="//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js"></script>
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On the stretch of highway from Imphal to Silchar, there is a patch of around 40 Kms where its just a dirt road.It was highly slushy when I was traveling, due to the rains. I had been advised not to take this road by the hotel staff in Imphal. I had ridden through a few bad stretches across the country and a tinge of arrogance did creep in. I ignored the advise in my arrogance and I can only curse myself.<br />
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Now these weren't the worst of roads I had faced. Elsewhere bad patches extend for about 4 - 5 Kms to a max of 10 Kms. This one stretched a whole 40 Kms and my patience is tested. When your patience is tested, you start with a sarcastic just my luck kind of a look. In a while you start abusing your luck. After that you start pleading with God to change your luck. Then you just stop complaining and start giving yourself a pep talk. This stretch did all that and some more. But somewhere in these slushy roads there is a small village called 'Barak'. You have cities and you have tier 2, tier 3 cities. Similarly you have villages and tier 2, tier 3 villages. Barak was one of them. By the time I reached there it was quite dark and the security situation in Manipur being what it is, the sentry in the CRPF post did not allow me to travel further. I had to wait till dawn to start off again. Frankly I was relieved. The slushy stretch still had another 10 odd Kms and some rest would not hurt me. I just had to find a place to sleep.<br />
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I ask the CRPF personnel stationed in that check post if there is a hotel or any place nearby wherein I could spend the night. He replied in the negative. Not that I expected a hotel in this village. I was just trying to warm up to him and ask him to give me a place to rest for the night in his bunker or along side his bunker. I had a sleeping bag with me and just needed a roof to rest till dawn and continue on my way to Silchar. So I asked him if I could park my bike near the sentry post somewhere and if he could offer me a place to sleep. I slipped in the fact that my father was an ex Army officer just to shift the odds in my favour. I overestimate my shrewdness. None of the tricks work. The rules dictate that no civilian is allowed in those spaces.<br />
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Rules and procedures I believe, should be followed more in spirit than in letter. People in the ground should be trusted enough to make that call. I could sense the discomfort in the CRPF guy. In my heart I knew he wanted to help me out but he just couldn't risk bending rules. One often thinks the world is an unkind place. But im my experience of this bike trip, whenever I have needed help, be it big or small, people present over there have risen up to the occasion and helped me. I know from his looks that he wants to help me but he does not have the authority to help me out. I still know I can get a place to sleep there if I persist with him. I'll just have to talk to a few other colleagues of his, some seniors, maybe talk to some other senior in some base location on the phone, tell my story to everyone and prove my identity to half of them. I was dead tired and I neither had the will nor the inclination to do all that. I just decided, I'll go to those small shops on the other side of the road and ask them if they could give me a place to sleep for the night.<br />
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The CRPF check post is on the left side of the road just before the steel bridge over a river. On the other side of the road, I head to the first shop I can see to try my luck. It is actually a small two room hut with a window cut out for a makeshift shop- the kind which will have some biscuits, cigarettes, maggi packets, some tetra packs of fruit juices and possibly tea. The door is open and I have a sneak peek of the other room. It is mostly empty. Maybe there is a modest dining table and a bench somewhere in the corner. Also the thatched roof of the hut extends a little from the front wall. I could use that space to park my bike. This place was perfect. I just have to say the right words and my problems are solved. With a hopeful look and the politest smile I could manage, I go up to the window counter of the shop.<br />
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There is a lady, presumably in her early to mid 30's running the shop. She smiles. It is a very kind smile. We exchange simple greetings and I ask her if she has a place she could offer me, where I could sleep for the night. Before I could say anything else she says "You are most welcome". I ask her how much it will cost me. She replies "You are most welcome". I have a feeling that she did not understand my second question. But then I decide to deal with it in the morning. For now I needed a place to sleep very badly. I thank her and I ask her if I could bring my motorcycle to the shop and park it in the space alongside the wall of the hut. She says "Yes". I am a bit relieved - one for the fact that I got a place to sleep the first place I enquired and secondly the fact that I managed it in under 2 minutes. I mean if there is a record for the shortest time you negotiate for a place to sleep when stranded in an unknown village, for all I know I just might have broken it.<br />
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Meet Veronica<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgciYFAa3_9Ijr5TYoSJDKcXW7NC0RKmBo3p4xpAxkZctWJbid6v4Re7HWiJ9PqDiikxsmoOFPiMVk_rbU4ZpR_L27rY4KF8WBwlyIT1zBuoYFqtdU8lrZ_jX4lZmGBM9UXhZ_M9BZvasA/s1600/DSCN3509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgciYFAa3_9Ijr5TYoSJDKcXW7NC0RKmBo3p4xpAxkZctWJbid6v4Re7HWiJ9PqDiikxsmoOFPiMVk_rbU4ZpR_L27rY4KF8WBwlyIT1zBuoYFqtdU8lrZ_jX4lZmGBM9UXhZ_M9BZvasA/s1600/DSCN3509.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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(To be continued....)<br />
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You can check part 2 of the story in the below link<br />
<a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/08/to-veronica-because-some-stories-are_22.html">http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/08/to-veronica-because-some-stories-are_22.html</a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
<br /></div>George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-21755933331467424432014-07-16T07:52:00.000-07:002015-06-01T23:21:29.535-07:00How To Fit In A Ladakh Motorcycle Trip In 15 Days Starting From Delhi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A Ladakh motorcycle trip is something that is on the mind of a lot of people but planning it out seems very difficult. When I travelled I had the luxury of time. A lot of people do not have the same luxury and I'll try to plan a rough itinerary of a possible motorcycle trip to Ladakh and try to fit it in 15 days. Keep in note I am keeping the starting point as Delhi. The route mentioned is Delhi -> Pathankot- > Srinagar -> Leh -> places around Leh -> Manali and finally back to Delhi.<br />
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Most importantly keep <a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/06/15-things-to-keep-in-mind-while.html" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">these pointers</span></b></a> in mind before starting the trip. One thing I forgot here was that prepaid numbers from non J & K states won't work here. So make sure you have a postpaid connection on your cell phone. A lot of areas in Ladakh, you might not catch a signal even then. But a vacation without cell phones is not really that bad a deal. :)<br />
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Day 1 - Delhi to Pathankot</span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvGHbUQVtYdXm4yWAF6uYHCozfWqIdQJ1O8KWZw6BP37evsDYNvhv8FOrpvvNqJovFdAaIM-_UIzHPLtjYPliINZGhdqwPhfojrIZKivBP-W8EwYi9GKoEfQ2AuUTFFvq51JRcw6BTdI/s1600/del+-+pathankot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="383" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKvGHbUQVtYdXm4yWAF6uYHCozfWqIdQJ1O8KWZw6BP37evsDYNvhv8FOrpvvNqJovFdAaIM-_UIzHPLtjYPliINZGhdqwPhfojrIZKivBP-W8EwYi9GKoEfQ2AuUTFFvq51JRcw6BTdI/s1600/del+-+pathankot.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Distance : 486.5 Kms</li>
<li>Yes you would have to push yourself a bit. But then its the plains and the highways are good enough.</li>
<li>Start early morning by 5 if possible and beat the city traffic. It easily saves you an hour or more</li>
<li>It should take you 12 to 14 hours including food breaks and all</li>
<li>You want to spend more time in Ladakh, trust me. So push yourself a bit on these initial days</li>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Day 2 Pathankot to Srinagar</span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqS0HdSuDCfasxBXnriDQ4IJEdvru-Y_YexA6lzudeLCNmyBgq7eOmONwENfi6I9H76cX73baky76xF4gZ5V3YYvokNe4g9DHYyFrAr5F1wRPD58xWTdGwR6gTZZNhCY8zVMvBoo9sTmY/s1600/pat+-+sri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqS0HdSuDCfasxBXnriDQ4IJEdvru-Y_YexA6lzudeLCNmyBgq7eOmONwENfi6I9H76cX73baky76xF4gZ5V3YYvokNe4g9DHYyFrAr5F1wRPD58xWTdGwR6gTZZNhCY8zVMvBoo9sTmY/s1600/pat+-+sri.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Distance: 363 Kms</li>
<li>Yes start early. I mean its always advisable</li>
<li>There is a route which you can take to bypass Jammu and reach Udhampur directly. Check on it. I had to go to a friends place in Jammu, so I never bothered. Moreover I always had the luxury of time</li>
<li>12 - 13 hrs including food breaks. You will start spending time to click pictures</li>
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Day 3: Rest in Srinagar and roam around Srinagar</span></h2>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5cViyyjbS4z9vA04Y_1v6_8UjwG3odYOR791FTLL1PcdGfGVA-HW63VZzM2GXrB8RPDI32ynYmSwgGAgIgtNQbvvcL4YukfLDAU91X-VouAOggsNBMiBybY5RirmFigfCrmYSGFWoBzU/s1600/DSCN1709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5cViyyjbS4z9vA04Y_1v6_8UjwG3odYOR791FTLL1PcdGfGVA-HW63VZzM2GXrB8RPDI32ynYmSwgGAgIgtNQbvvcL4YukfLDAU91X-VouAOggsNBMiBybY5RirmFigfCrmYSGFWoBzU/s1600/DSCN1709.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere close to the Hazrat Bal mosque</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>If you have never visited Srinagar before do spend a day here</li>
<li>Check out the Shankaracharya Mandir, Nishat garden, Shalimar garden, Hazratbal mosque. All of them overlook the Dal lake</li>
<li>For more pictures of Srinagar check out this <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.130085493865247.1073741835.101961743344289&type=3" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">link</span></b></a> </li>
</ul>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
Day 4: Srinagar to Kargil</span></h2>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm0grEFcOqUtPQtwyPRZGBdDoW-KD6qY7fUj9shEHBBnAGTMhuFcmePSDGYs8x5E_KV-tnhddX_pLszkupmgWXh_c5gaKMQUempqG-Lb91Ilf9ySbwdfuenro-bG2N1Njah1CCyIesN_U/s1600/sri+to+kar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm0grEFcOqUtPQtwyPRZGBdDoW-KD6qY7fUj9shEHBBnAGTMhuFcmePSDGYs8x5E_KV-tnhddX_pLszkupmgWXh_c5gaKMQUempqG-Lb91Ilf9ySbwdfuenro-bG2N1Njah1CCyIesN_U/s1600/sri+to+kar.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLE6udFcRTLY5aueiyIFOitDgPLepMkPL3_dHVV049BoiYC3N79xn7tDWpYSalTa72mtkbgBz_sXYoec7ACo_lt8_nNxupoyLPebwngooPAW1T23ZzBkw_dheh7yKDX2rAbmb4bK1OSQ/s1600/DSCN1750.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdLE6udFcRTLY5aueiyIFOitDgPLepMkPL3_dHVV049BoiYC3N79xn7tDWpYSalTa72mtkbgBz_sXYoec7ACo_lt8_nNxupoyLPebwngooPAW1T23ZzBkw_dheh7yKDX2rAbmb4bK1OSQ/s1600/DSCN1750.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enroute Kargil after the Zojila pass</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Distance - 204 Kms</li>
<li>You will cross the Zojila pass, Dras town, Kargil war memorial before reaching the Kargil town</li>
<li>The roads aren't that great but I think its the view that slows you down more</li>
<li>You are sure to spend more time clicking pictures</li>
<li>Take it slow. Spend 14 hours on the road if you have to. The views are breathtaking.</li>
<li>Fill up petrol in Srinagar for sure. Although you will find some 3 to 4 petrol pumps on the way but still be on the safer side</li>
<li>After Kargil the next place you will find hotel rooms is probably Lamayuru some 100 Kms away. So stay the night at Kargil</li>
</ul>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
Day 5: Kargil to Leh</span></h2>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6G37fxjslSQ_QZLuaoUr0kQeKfB0zlQZgJUwr3hkz1MjFgJP52-OeGFP1B88OfeBQPh5nWrl_AGx_u5whj7t4p2h5xmpr6Fu7O4w_sWocjf92aIy2hkCjgfTGxlh9c3HClGEAzqTIoBE/s1600/kar+to+leh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6G37fxjslSQ_QZLuaoUr0kQeKfB0zlQZgJUwr3hkz1MjFgJP52-OeGFP1B88OfeBQPh5nWrl_AGx_u5whj7t4p2h5xmpr6Fu7O4w_sWocjf92aIy2hkCjgfTGxlh9c3HClGEAzqTIoBE/s1600/kar+to+leh.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRXeom1bFVfirVkzsTbHKYG4zPD4KRnIS8UEtiS8c7YcSXC9uX_u4vPpNAVLab1SAoiFshB_TipuOb9Afd6Rg1tjcs5E19oi9I243XxM7pohyphenhyphen0cEXP_1tF5qnLDxDs6ohkFMj7VQcIRVw/s1600/DSCN1836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRXeom1bFVfirVkzsTbHKYG4zPD4KRnIS8UEtiS8c7YcSXC9uX_u4vPpNAVLab1SAoiFshB_TipuOb9Afd6Rg1tjcs5E19oi9I243XxM7pohyphenhyphen0cEXP_1tF5qnLDxDs6ohkFMj7VQcIRVw/s1600/DSCN1836.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enroute Leh</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Distance - 210 Kms</li>
<li>Fill up petrol in Kargil just to be on the safer side. Although you may find 3 to 4 petrol pumps on the way</li>
<li>You will pass through Lamayuru and the Magnetic hill</li>
<li>Finally you made into Leh. You will just love this feeling. But the best is yet to come, trust me</li>
<li>You can check the pictures of Srinagar to Leh ride <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.130104363863360.1073741837.101961743344289&type=3" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">here</span></b></a></li>
</ul>
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<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
Day 6: Leh</span></h2>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7J61EENw98UaP8psjUYnxCWNk3B6wROCCCGRBXy4aFhjL55UnPXKx_crQy5W1mfgVUQ4pOImd4qx5uEk1fs7Rha_IjL3M6FwGvP1d9TNWyV60Escam6URNnHXMDj-iGLwEdyFbxiqq-4/s1600/DSCN1896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7J61EENw98UaP8psjUYnxCWNk3B6wROCCCGRBXy4aFhjL55UnPXKx_crQy5W1mfgVUQ4pOImd4qx5uEk1fs7Rha_IjL3M6FwGvP1d9TNWyV60Escam6URNnHXMDj-iGLwEdyFbxiqq-4/s1600/DSCN1896.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leh city </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Get your permits for Nubra valley, Pangong Tso lake, Tso Moriri lake</li>
<li>Roam around Leh city. Check out the Hemis monastery some 40 odd kms from Leh</li>
<li>Get your bike checked and fixed in one of the workshops. After Leh the next place to find mechanics easily is in Manali</li>
<li>Although I have heard that from May 1st 2014, Indian citizens do not need a inner line permit for visiting these places. If true its a major relief. Foreign nationals would still need a Protected area permit though.</li>
<li>You can ask any travel agent in Leh for the permits or get it yourself from the DC office in Leh</li>
<li>For more pictures of Leh check out this <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.129277757279354.1073741833.101961743344289&type=3" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">link</span></b></a></li>
</ul>
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<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
Day 7: Leh to Nubra and back</span></h2>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-b45uBiHXrrm4_CV1wRhtc2buXbChDdHeQpdsMuYRnaXMbqbAXFqlE2xC61R_lOEtZVOq1wbKqwP7l4lm0F_OV3YqSZCAV7HvrrQJzrx5Vuok7fo3zld-3CUnyBuCjgo6YIIjS0vn24/s1600/leh+to+nubra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-b45uBiHXrrm4_CV1wRhtc2buXbChDdHeQpdsMuYRnaXMbqbAXFqlE2xC61R_lOEtZVOq1wbKqwP7l4lm0F_OV3YqSZCAV7HvrrQJzrx5Vuok7fo3zld-3CUnyBuCjgo6YIIjS0vn24/s1600/leh+to+nubra.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYkSiKmTqE7bbp7aSg0siV0hLDwzMQczsjTTeiKBZFkgVSM9l7F5-kCvVNng0CRqTbvDyxe-gcR41OysfBqBP4i2GySiZtDQvan1Yg4Oao-JRodjUXCSfVQPo4qwYfxJLo1jM0Lnnm-Ww/s1600/DSCN1915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYkSiKmTqE7bbp7aSg0siV0hLDwzMQczsjTTeiKBZFkgVSM9l7F5-kCvVNng0CRqTbvDyxe-gcR41OysfBqBP4i2GySiZtDQvan1Yg4Oao-JRodjUXCSfVQPo4qwYfxJLo1jM0Lnnm-Ww/s1600/DSCN1915.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enroute Khardungla</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Distance : 230 Km (115 Km one way)</li>
<li>It should take you approximately 14 hours including stops for pictures and everything. </li>
<li>Start very early from Leh by 5 am</li>
<li>You will be passing through Khardung La - the worlds highest motorable point</li>
<li>When you reach Khardung la, click your pictures and continue forward towards Nubra. Since it is at such a high altitude. locals advise that you don't spend more than 30 minutes there</li>
<li>I just went till Khardung la and came back. I did not go to Nubra. I had to wait for 2 days in Leh before the Khardung la road opened because of unexpected bad weather. I did not want to risk going to Nubra and getting stuck there. When I went the weather played a little spoilsport</li>
<li>So yes the weather can be a bitch. Keep that into consideration</li>
<li>Be very careful on these roads. The roads can be very slippery at places. Drive carefully. Do not drive in the dark if possible. If you reach Nubra and you feel getting back to Leh before dark is tricky don't push it. Stay in Nubra for the night and come back the next day</li>
<li>FILL UP PETROL IN LEH</li>
<li>You can check out the Leh Khardung la pictures <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.129675513906245.1073741834.101961743344289&type=3" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">here</span></b></a></li>
</ul>
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<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
Day 8: Leh to Pangong lake</span></h2>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdi5J33cW6Nb9J0OeANG2WgAOl13pYmfOLyOh_vA017Cfh8XFK20LfPUg6K5-zqg4z1P4KqZ6kCYKrtl17VgzG0iy_9sU5NoMVgI33E9rCqC7C7rswzzB0ASRtRJ7hQ6pH-AMdO6yyRA/s1600/leh+to+pang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdi5J33cW6Nb9J0OeANG2WgAOl13pYmfOLyOh_vA017Cfh8XFK20LfPUg6K5-zqg4z1P4KqZ6kCYKrtl17VgzG0iy_9sU5NoMVgI33E9rCqC7C7rswzzB0ASRtRJ7hQ6pH-AMdO6yyRA/s1600/leh+to+pang.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Zhg0QU1X0bNSFKVYINPfWknCtHMJ1Z26-XZlL6PK3BQtRJm8r0POwsx_JX2GL1JcplMDsN8hlQkSfdBLS181g4Coy7DutxC3Sel9pDKGc_44NZmOaoDhDk5mCI_E4kui25RxrRXYOsY/s1600/pangong.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Zhg0QU1X0bNSFKVYINPfWknCtHMJ1Z26-XZlL6PK3BQtRJm8r0POwsx_JX2GL1JcplMDsN8hlQkSfdBLS181g4Coy7DutxC3Sel9pDKGc_44NZmOaoDhDk5mCI_E4kui25RxrRXYOsY/s1600/pangong.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<a href="http://adtales.in/manali-leh-road-completely-open-for-vehicular-traffic/" target="_blank">Image Source</a><br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Distance - 214 Kms</li>
<li>Fill up petrol in Leh and carry some extra petrol with you - 10 litres. I am assuming you will come back to Leh the next day</li>
<li>I skipped Pangong lake because of some issues.</li>
<li>I do regret that</li>
</ul>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
Day 9: Back to Leh from Pangong</span></h2>
<div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>There is a route which can take you from Pangong to Tso Moriri directly. This would save you a day</li>
<li>However I am not sure of the permits thing in that route. I am more or less sure that foreign nationals are not allowed on that road. Check up on that. </li>
<li>If you are taking that route and subsequently you are heading to Manali, make sure you are carrying enough petrol to last you some 800 - 900 Kms when you start from Leh on Day 8</li>
</ul>
</div>
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<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
Day 10: Leh to Tso Moriri</span></h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTAU2c_Fhf4BPyRBSjtlVW3lcRt77r7r1z_DVUdPCo866bc5zcgJGr7L5MXTR4Cv3e_eP2_ddBDy3hwNL1Gqu6qBT4s8cIRjnWHcxRAodLuaPZo2M7Xiah8gkunmwr74GfvI_S_E6cag4/s1600/DSCN2007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTAU2c_Fhf4BPyRBSjtlVW3lcRt77r7r1z_DVUdPCo866bc5zcgJGr7L5MXTR4Cv3e_eP2_ddBDy3hwNL1Gqu6qBT4s8cIRjnWHcxRAodLuaPZo2M7Xiah8gkunmwr74GfvI_S_E6cag4/s1600/DSCN2007.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Distance - Around 230 Kms. Google maps doesn't show it but I know since I did it</li>
<li>After travelling some 200 Kms you will find a beautiful lake and most probably you would assume it to be the Tso Moriri lake</li>
<li>But its not. The road disappears when you almost pass this lake</li>
<li>The last 20 Kms is a stretch without any roads. These are just jeep tracks. Pray that you don't encounter any flat tires but be prepared for it</li>
<li>Fill up in Leh when you start and carry enough petrol to last you some 600 to 650 Kms.</li>
<li>The 600 - 650 Kms is including the petrol already in your tank</li>
</ul>
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<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
Day 11: Tso Moriri to Sarchu</span></h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjodWmmPcQrvOl9L6P2U-MDvhqfjzJQbiuZO8LXsWLXpbvl7hzc4FxmP3K9J179hdCQaso154udjV2M6Mdnwlygoz4u-_tFhhdEi1W_Vm5Xg6mlISfFD3jrphZZ6DhhEgXmNrlZpujW5eE/s1600/DSCN2043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjodWmmPcQrvOl9L6P2U-MDvhqfjzJQbiuZO8LXsWLXpbvl7hzc4FxmP3K9J179hdCQaso154udjV2M6Mdnwlygoz4u-_tFhhdEi1W_Vm5Xg6mlISfFD3jrphZZ6DhhEgXmNrlZpujW5eE/s1600/DSCN2043.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere on the TsoMoriri - Tsokar - Sarchu route</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTm2MT7zZ2h5rcmQANjUr-lAbd7GkSnFojsdOdg4WngjDhlV2txZ_Rmk92S5rrT1KI8EablEi_D7k_GBymCQ_wCrPfZ0lJhc8hggqVbPD8XFHey_d5hCQrHxCDZYzUuShFq58cVMDuHU/s1600/DSCN2056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCTm2MT7zZ2h5rcmQANjUr-lAbd7GkSnFojsdOdg4WngjDhlV2txZ_Rmk92S5rrT1KI8EablEi_D7k_GBymCQ_wCrPfZ0lJhc8hggqVbPD8XFHey_d5hCQrHxCDZYzUuShFq58cVMDuHU/s1600/DSCN2056.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A place to sleep for the night in Sarchu</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Distance approximately 220 to 250 Kms</li>
<li>The roads from Tso Moriri via Tso Kar to Sarchu alternates between good and non existent till you hit the Leh Manali highway some 40 odd Kms before Pang</li>
<li>You might only find very modest places to sleep like the tent dhaba in the picture above</li>
<li>They are quite comfortable and one bed was available at Rs 100 a night. </li>
<li>I do hope you still have some petrol left for atleast another 100 to 150 Kms :)</li>
</ul>
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
Day 12: Sarchu to Manali</span></h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf5HKA36bJIWNVwSSgE45Ef-maSY59OgYXjvfLFRudykQNY1kxT2tkHBQYUug1Hu5J_falxuAnjAMJUfPPqj9lzhEBR6OQXqKx6oeh0jFUheKg5cPpEpMCkjKaU7ixVlBh4-nH0qDOptk/s1600/DSCN2066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf5HKA36bJIWNVwSSgE45Ef-maSY59OgYXjvfLFRudykQNY1kxT2tkHBQYUug1Hu5J_falxuAnjAMJUfPPqj9lzhEBR6OQXqKx6oeh0jFUheKg5cPpEpMCkjKaU7ixVlBh4-nH0qDOptk/s1600/DSCN2066.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarchu - Manali route</td></tr>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Distance - around 230 Kms</li>
<li>You will be crossing Rohtang pass before reaching Manali</li>
<li>Reach there and relax a bit. Its all downhill after that. Literally</li>
<li>You can check out the pics from Leh onwards <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.134207833453013.1073741839.101961743344289&type=3" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;">here</span></b></a></li>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">
Days 13 to 15: The boring part</span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGZNS1QdNQ5xghs7ReMC_bmJHKVHHQ0Q8VyGDJNWkTdUUryormhrb8i0AkV2oq2ShND1-rRRpiLarVmHlsKHGtCC8Ff18YsPFRHwJczVIAJ73L7aHbhV-kOnKn9dLPVjITU3Hr9RcrQc/s1600/man+to+del.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGZNS1QdNQ5xghs7ReMC_bmJHKVHHQ0Q8VyGDJNWkTdUUryormhrb8i0AkV2oq2ShND1-rRRpiLarVmHlsKHGtCC8Ff18YsPFRHwJczVIAJ73L7aHbhV-kOnKn9dLPVjITU3Hr9RcrQc/s1600/man+to+del.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Its all downhill from here</li>
<li>Maybe spend a day in Manali, fix your bike and do the stuff you want to :)</li>
<li>Manali to Delhi is 539 Kms. Maybe you want to split it in two days or do it in one by pushing yourself</li>
<li>Figure it out yourself. </li>
</ul>
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<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">
General tips</span></h2>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Once you cross the Zojila pass after Srinagar and enter Ladakh population is very sparse. So take care of your diet and hydration and keep ample stock. You might encounter places where you travel for some 100 - 150 odd kms without spotting any shops or civilization</li>
<li>Always carry extra cash around 4000 to 5000 bucks just in case of an emergency. ATM's may be sparse once you leave the towns.</li>
<li>It does get cold. Make sure you have sufficient woolens. Keep spare dry woolen socks handy. A lot of places you may be crossing streams and you might feel the need for a fresh pair of socks.</li>
<li>Woolen caps that cover ears under your helmet, woolen gloves under your biking gloves and anything woolen is strongly advisable</li>
<li>I tried to fit it in 15 days. Obviously there are a lot more places to see in Ladakh. </li>
<li>Please do feel free to add stuff in the comments section which can make this itinerary a lot more better and other places whch could be fitted in.</li>
<li>This is a rough itinerary. Do you research and skip parts you are not very keen on and add some other which you can fit in</li>
<li>I hope this does help a bit. </li>
</ul>
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<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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</div>George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-23470304937414409992014-07-05T00:12:00.001-07:002014-07-17T07:11:14.065-07:00When Maria Sharapova Was Asked About The Clueless Rider<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;">A small excerpt from the Maria Sharapova post match press conference</span><br />
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-18200551763853504792014-06-24T10:07:00.002-07:002015-06-01T23:18:43.618-07:0015 Things To Keep In Mind While Planning Your Ladakh Motorcycle Trip<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Leh is definitely one of the most beautiful places in India and you should definitely visit this place at least once in your lifetime. In case you love riding motorcycles and do go on motorcycle trips here and there, trust me its a crime if you don't take your bike there. Keep these pointers in mind and go ahead and do that Leh motorcycle trip you always wanted to.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>1) The Routes</b></span></div>
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There are two major routes to reach Leh. The Jammu -> Srinagar -> Leh highway and the Manali ->Leh highway. Both routes are extremely scenic and I would personally suggest that you take one route while going there and the other while coming back.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyQFgFGE-twu3xMtiQK4P4FQFBc2K2MyF0BarPnujScCxe3_3JDEKSrV7nhXyPZRzSzEGkIKyvCvdJg1CsQCgrIdS78CrM0aEC9O2RYETVYmi6PRpDWwf2T11MLBSj_fciO9LkUeWYMk/s1600/DSCN1745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyQFgFGE-twu3xMtiQK4P4FQFBc2K2MyF0BarPnujScCxe3_3JDEKSrV7nhXyPZRzSzEGkIKyvCvdJg1CsQCgrIdS78CrM0aEC9O2RYETVYmi6PRpDWwf2T11MLBSj_fciO9LkUeWYMk/s1600/DSCN1745.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Srinagar Leh Route</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZlCaqsf4d7u3FhpzxJml84CMmEabG9jC3JB-1Il9XBqTlhLoF_TbdGEJqqdcZYvNIWCtFyiEm64zhw-SRRbJSv9Ggjxn62_zgpLsBSezSvw2OLpSR-SMRVbnq-4u0kxoHTBh2Fr7XR4c/s1600/DSCN1805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="display: inline !important; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZlCaqsf4d7u3FhpzxJml84CMmEabG9jC3JB-1Il9XBqTlhLoF_TbdGEJqqdcZYvNIWCtFyiEm64zhw-SRRbJSv9Ggjxn62_zgpLsBSezSvw2OLpSR-SMRVbnq-4u0kxoHTBh2Fr7XR4c/s1600/DSCN1805.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Srinagar Leh Route</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNPf8Uw7p7vgL7Y6B2PK5E00IP5WxCFc1A0Sd6vdleqWgGubHfMayIpxN1HwdVjJHRtP2Yn6QdU3CVrcWE8Cld7NMvIfPpn58KkbJ97-MugmNwMX6shfqvF_lpIzkGygXmXp_R1kxY0Qo/s1600/DSCN2070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNPf8Uw7p7vgL7Y6B2PK5E00IP5WxCFc1A0Sd6vdleqWgGubHfMayIpxN1HwdVjJHRtP2Yn6QdU3CVrcWE8Cld7NMvIfPpn58KkbJ97-MugmNwMX6shfqvF_lpIzkGygXmXp_R1kxY0Qo/s1600/DSCN2070.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leh - Manali Route</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlogr5c5wdqvsXs1vZv4SGscekmtA1EwHFMGzX8smNJZEf9texXySNKtJNSjSxW5SS4NaPvOU0BDm1KIDc39M8WCfLDwRbrfBqnzi9Ai4EDKd_-6kP61-0oK3BZSaj3A1Zn7eT__hPXdY/s1600/DSCN2074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlogr5c5wdqvsXs1vZv4SGscekmtA1EwHFMGzX8smNJZEf9texXySNKtJNSjSxW5SS4NaPvOU0BDm1KIDc39M8WCfLDwRbrfBqnzi9Ai4EDKd_-6kP61-0oK3BZSaj3A1Zn7eT__hPXdY/s1600/DSCN2074.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leh - Manali Route</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Although for whatever my experience counts, I think its better to take the Srinagar highway while going and taking the Manali route while coming back as the ascent to higher altitudes is more gradual in the former route and acclimatizing yourself to the altitude is easier in this way.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>2) The best time to travel</b></span><br />
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The roads to Leh are only open for about 6 months a year for the tourist on both the routes. Starting from mid May - June first week to about mid October - November. So the months from June to September should be a safe bet. But then July August being monsoons could get a little tricky on the passes (Zojila pass in the Srinagar - Leh highway, Rohtang pass on the Manali - Leh highway). So basically June and September are the best months to travel but hey you can always be a little adventurous in the monsoon months.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKXXvO8nFVfAZxq9FFgeOMQGLQviTJ1PBz0JXcxJuMcQYuvOdHoPZL2oDJ0qjaeE28DEkZq68-7P0u8of9c3aTGGWFpKRg1I8jdsWL-xOOuHHOqMjoZeJTcYpAoO6aPQHrNojv1t2CxFM/s1600/DSCN1748.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKXXvO8nFVfAZxq9FFgeOMQGLQviTJ1PBz0JXcxJuMcQYuvOdHoPZL2oDJ0qjaeE28DEkZq68-7P0u8of9c3aTGGWFpKRg1I8jdsWL-xOOuHHOqMjoZeJTcYpAoO6aPQHrNojv1t2CxFM/s1600/DSCN1748.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zojila pass. Although I was there in June, it was raining that day. Monsoons would be far worse I guess</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>P.S. If you are travelling around Independence day (Aug 15), the Kashmir valley can upset your itinerary a bit as a lot of separatist groups call out bandhs and strikes during this period.</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>3) Altitude Sickness or Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) is a real bitch. Taking some precautions doesn't make you a wimp</b></span><br />
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Different people have different immunity levels towards altitudes. You are the best judge on how much your body can take. Some people are severely affected and some are just mildly affected. A mild case of AMS just feels like a slight hangover. Thankfully I was just mildly affected and however stupid it sounds, I have been drinking since the age of 18, so I knew how to deal with a mild hangover. However read up on AMS and the precautions, medicines etc you can take before you start this trip<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>4) Drink a lot of water, eat properly and keep some sweet stuff handy</b></span><br />
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The internet is full of articles on the health benefits of water. Trust me its not overrated. I am generally not very particular about my eating habits but once I hit the higher altitudes after Srinagar and till the time I wasn't back in the lower altitudes of Manali, I religiously ensured that I have 3 to 4 litres of water everyday, proper meals and chocolates / biscuits for energy every now and then.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>5) Wear a Balaclava or use a piece of clean cloth to cover your mouth while riding in very high altitudes</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQH1zBSQhnIk1D064qz4Vr0IPpZZAQ85C2AQUih4fumM_iIIlQo_V2PH1aF34kciDk7_QpiIlfSthjLdAsVbiRJv4uN1FBZ0DKVXMuC0LY4P9LnddGJfozmrsC2Sc4e_IVoh7adY2YNoM/s1600/bala.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQH1zBSQhnIk1D064qz4Vr0IPpZZAQ85C2AQUih4fumM_iIIlQo_V2PH1aF34kciDk7_QpiIlfSthjLdAsVbiRJv4uN1FBZ0DKVXMuC0LY4P9LnddGJfozmrsC2Sc4e_IVoh7adY2YNoM/s1600/bala.jpg" width="375" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.minus33.com/catalog/100-wool-expedition-weight-balaclava/740" target="_blank">Image Source</a><br />
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At high altitudes oxygen levels are low. One tends to breathe from the mouth when riding on high altitudes. Since you are breathing hard, you could end up inhaling water vapours present in the air and water could deposit in your lungs. Sounds scary. Ok I read about this somewhere before the trip. I am not really sure if it is true. But then why take chances. Although I must add, when I stopped in between rides, I could feel the wetness in the cloth that covered my mouth.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>6) Go easy on the alcohol. Trust me, the views are enough to give you a high</b></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkvZLroiyiTxFYB2dmwQEavwAEtjk8U0g9AEJ8sFUMbsc6mxEH5ROB6SKxZYtScjEG0xHQEL0oynsJv2wj4-iOSo6zYi15pW4k0JGv2kZSLstq722vg06iLo-cKUehVAMmgwSRDRPiiE/s1600/DSCN1866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkvZLroiyiTxFYB2dmwQEavwAEtjk8U0g9AEJ8sFUMbsc6mxEH5ROB6SKxZYtScjEG0xHQEL0oynsJv2wj4-iOSo6zYi15pW4k0JGv2kZSLstq722vg06iLo-cKUehVAMmgwSRDRPiiE/s1600/DSCN1866.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And you thought I was kidding</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I love alcohol. I make no bones about it. But drink responsibly. Alcohol causes dehydration and does not really help with altitude sickness. Know your limits and try not to reach there. Never ever push the limits in these parts.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>7) Leh isn't exactly the place to try this out</b></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXovhyVDLw1QBDe4hWA6wMQfmY7KwpNQg5aIsmoVydRwR6sJnuGb84a3GlttA42M0R3h5NIAjWNVoBbb5bzxLJ0IMTaoaiHR2Wja1liemaSSaMghedAQW_Pj6AG2C6aue5LyoGyocbfI/s1600/ravi+kumar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXovhyVDLw1QBDe4hWA6wMQfmY7KwpNQg5aIsmoVydRwR6sJnuGb84a3GlttA42M0R3h5NIAjWNVoBbb5bzxLJ0IMTaoaiHR2Wja1liemaSSaMghedAQW_Pj6AG2C6aue5LyoGyocbfI/s1600/ravi+kumar.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Warning: Do not try this in Leh</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="http://www.zimbio.com/pictures/f5eaRIGXvna/19th+Commonwealth+Games+Day+3+Weightlifting/WorMPgyEtEi/Ravi+Kumar+Katulu" target="_blank">Image Source</a><br />
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Do not physically exert yourself too much in these parts. Even brisk walking in such high altitudes can take a toll on you. Take your own sweet time for anything you do. After all a vacation is just meant to slow down your life a bit. Conserve as much energy as possible till the time you feel you are very well acclimatized.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>8) Points 3 to 7 are not to scare you. It's just that it doesn't hurt to be careful</b></span><br />
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Frankly I did not face any health issues and I guess most people will not. I can act all cool and frivolous about it but then I did take precautions. I did happen to meet people on the way who suffered from some sort of AMS in these parts. So once again, do read up on AMS before you embark on your Leh trip. If you feel any discomfort do stop and enquire in Army camps for medical treatment (They have oxygen cylinders and other such stuff) and check about medicines you can or cannot have<br />
Again I am not sure of this but I did hear Dispirin for headaches is not advisable in such high altitudes.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>9) Inner Line Permits / Protected Area Permits in Leh</b></span><br />
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Indian citizens require Inner Line Permits (ILP) and foreign nationals require Protected area Permits (PAP) to travel to Nubra Valley, Pangong Tso lake, Tso Moriri lake etc. You can find a lot of tour operators in Leh city who can arrange this for you or you could just head to the DC office in Leh and get the permits yourself. Will turn out to be a lot cheaper if you do it yourself and its not a very complicated process. Keep some extra passport size photographs with you when you are travelling to Leh.<br />
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<i>P.S. It seems like there is a circular issued by the Leh DC office that starting from May 1st 2014, Indian nationals do not need an ILP and they just need to provide a valid photo id in the checkposts to go to the above mentioned places. However foreign nationals still need to get PAP. However I am not completely sure of it. Please do check about the veracity of this information. If true, its a huge relief. </i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>11) Wear protective gear. However headmasterish it sounds, it does save lives and limbs</b></span><br />
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These are very remote areas with no signs of humanity across long stretches. Medical attention in case of an untoward accident may be a little difficult. I had a really bad accident and I had to ask a truck to carry my bike some 300 Kms from Sarchu to Mandi across the Rohtang pass but thankfully owing to my protective gear I was unscathed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnFxji4MKj1rYE0NON3DG0t_iA4Lya49kAP1vOSy4uB1oEU5qTjG9FA-oyQATbIofToIk3YbJkgqi6JwktxBbw4l5kVETqLWDrmYp02AsOHwyxWIfg363LHYE7ipQKamBrLDy69sGCy-s/s1600/DSCN1754.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnFxji4MKj1rYE0NON3DG0t_iA4Lya49kAP1vOSy4uB1oEU5qTjG9FA-oyQATbIofToIk3YbJkgqi6JwktxBbw4l5kVETqLWDrmYp02AsOHwyxWIfg363LHYE7ipQKamBrLDy69sGCy-s/s1600/DSCN1754.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These protective gear are a life saver</td></tr>
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It kinda looks cool too.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gBXgjUEOZULmf9CL_z7br4w_q9LUCuZryRPMO-0Pq1yXNPVmro6u8uSPQun26DPCXpa-bz4OiDwGELOQZ8NdVNKR6G5R1kKlV5aNFZQOnIsmbEtt6kiMZ8zZuP2dRAF6RodSY5wttDQ/s1600/DSCN2094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5gBXgjUEOZULmf9CL_z7br4w_q9LUCuZryRPMO-0Pq1yXNPVmro6u8uSPQun26DPCXpa-bz4OiDwGELOQZ8NdVNKR6G5R1kKlV5aNFZQOnIsmbEtt6kiMZ8zZuP2dRAF6RodSY5wttDQ/s1600/DSCN2094.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just for context, this is how the bike looked after the accident</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>12) Carry some extra petrol in some stretches</b></span><br />
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Specially on the Leh Manali highway and say if you are travelling to Pangong Tso or Tso Moriri lakes. Like I mentioned before, these are vast stretches without any humanity so expecting a petrol pump might be a little too optimistic. Its not uncommon to find that you have covered some 300 to 400 Kms without a petrol pump in sight.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8OlS7g2gjLJDCQZBQmMIx3fleb58Dl8ioK_S0BUxPiw-zga1rCR8MtjBTyu9O7TiwVozJvTkVl0NfgXDOAiSb7M9wRyLiJGBArjyt_yPNYbh1H7vvIOvm8TbNkVc6CIs__O1QLUKUwI/s1600/DSCN1984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq8OlS7g2gjLJDCQZBQmMIx3fleb58Dl8ioK_S0BUxPiw-zga1rCR8MtjBTyu9O7TiwVozJvTkVl0NfgXDOAiSb7M9wRyLiJGBArjyt_yPNYbh1H7vvIOvm8TbNkVc6CIs__O1QLUKUwI/s1600/DSCN1984.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Forget humanity, I do not think anything lives in these stretches</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Although the few and far in between villages that you cross, you may get to buy some petrol in the black market at more expensive rates. But not advisable to buy from the villages as the petrol could be spurious and could be a little troublesome for your vehicle. The Jammu to Leh highway is alright. Fill up in Srinagar. After Srinagar the frequency of petrol pumps will reduce but then you will have one in say every 150 to 200 Kms<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>13) Carry motorcycle spare parts, get a mechanic to check your bike in Leh and if possible learn some basic things about fixing your bike.</b></span><br />
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Carry extra clutch cables, accelerator cables, fuses, tubes, a puncture kit, air pump etc along with you. From Jammu to Srinagar to Leh you will still find mechanics on the way. These mechanics may have the skills to fix your bike but maybe not the bike spare parts you require. Ask your local neighborhood mechanic for some lessons and common problems and fixes before you start the trip. On the Leh - Manali stretch, you will hardly find any mechanics. So get your bike checked by a mechanic in Leh. There are lots of them there.<br />
But most importantly keep praying that nothing goes wrong.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>14) Be nice to every truck driver on the way. Build on your Karma points</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw2ZaGhfpX3_wprK69BsmsBV-sfK0OkMhX6c1DjCe8Wpxo_ZV9lHw__QxjoR8FJaSI05Emp4EB2Fum4Qh1mSSq7CaIfBys_cLAPAHPpUaVcb0fMA3SHJXIXV_oNnW9ZSZCdknkPmtyUJc/s1600/DSCN2075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw2ZaGhfpX3_wprK69BsmsBV-sfK0OkMhX6c1DjCe8Wpxo_ZV9lHw__QxjoR8FJaSI05Emp4EB2Fum4Qh1mSSq7CaIfBys_cLAPAHPpUaVcb0fMA3SHJXIXV_oNnW9ZSZCdknkPmtyUJc/s1600/DSCN2075.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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If things go very wrong, trucks are your best way out. These guys have the space to carry your bike to the next town when you are in a absolute fix. Truck drivers are nice people and will help you out although some negotiation skills may be handy<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>15) Keep some days spare in your itinerary if you have that luxury</b></span><br />
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Your itinerary can be upset for a host of reasons. Some roads may be closed because of weather conditions, you might need a little more time acclimatizing, your motorcycle develops a snag and takes time to fix<br />
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<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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<i>I am sure there are a lot more things to this list and possibly some mistakes in this list. Please do add / correct them in the comments for the benefit of anyone who is planning a trip. Also if someone has more info about the Inner line permit circular do mention in the comments.</i><br />
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P.S.<br />
<i>Click this link for <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.130104363863360.1073741837.101961743344289&type=3" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Srinagar to Leh pics</span></a></i><br />
<i>Click this link for <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.129277757279354.1073741833.101961743344289&type=3" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Leh pics</span></a></i><br />
<i>Click this link for <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.129675513906245.1073741834.101961743344289&type=3" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Khardungla pics</span></a></i><br />
<i>Click this link for <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.134207833453013.1073741839.101961743344289&type=3" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Leh to TsoMoriri pics</span></a> </i><br />
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-85735509009571502002014-06-17T09:42:00.000-07:002015-02-20T13:22:51.756-08:00The World Is A Much Kinder Place Than What Its Generally Given Credit For<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<u>Me:</u> "Sir yahan pe ATM kahan hoga" (Where Can I find an ATM here)</div>
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BSF guy: "Yahan Moreh mein toh koi ATM nahi hai" (There are no ATM's here in Moreh)</div>
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Me: "Aas pas koi ATM hai. Mere jeb mein sirf 120 rupaiye hain aur mujhe raat ko hotel room book karna hai yahan" (Is there some ATM nearby. I have just 120 Rupees in my pocket and I need to get a hotel room for the night)</div>
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BSF guy: "ATM toh aapko Imphal mein hi milega" (The nearest you'll get an ATM is in Imphal)</div>
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Yes many good stories start by "I only had x amount of money in my pocket" and this one is no different. Here I was standing some 500 meters from the Burma border in Moreh with Rs 120 in my pocket and the nearest ATM some 100 Kms away in Imphal. The funny part is that I was actually coming from Imphal after checking out of the hotel late in the morning. Even more funny is the fact that since clearing the hotel bills had left me with Rs 120 in my pocket I had gone to an ATM just outside the hotel and seeing a queue of some 8 people waiting to withdraw cash, I in my impatience decided to hit the road and withdraw cash from some ATM on the way. Seems practical enough except for the fact that I conveniently forgot about withdrawing cash. In my defense I can only say that riding on the roads can be such a high that often it makes one forget a lot of things.</div>
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So here I was on the side of the road lighting up a cigarette and taking stock of my situation (Statutory warning: Cigarette smoking is injurious to health). I was screwed. Moreh was one place I was eager to explore (See the entry on Moreh <a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/04/a-town-called-moreh-somewhere-on-burma.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a>) but Rs 120 would not even get me a hotel room, let alone other things. I could try if the hotels would accept cards but when the nearest ATM is some 100 Kms away, one can make an educated guess that it would be a near impossibility. Heading back to Imphal was also difficult as it was already past 4 and the security situation in Manipur ( read entry on Manipur <a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/04/manipur.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a>) makes it impossible to drive on the roads once its dark. I was totally screwed. The thought that "The Clueless Rider" was such an apt name for my trip suddenly struck me. I did manage a wry smile at that.</div>
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They say when death is staring at you, your whole life flashes before you. Let me give you another pearl of wisdom from my travel experiences. "When you end up in a soup, you identify the point which led you into this situation and starting from that point in time, your life flashes before you". Standing there on the side of the road all images were flashing before me. The queue outside the ATM, the hustle and bustle of the Imphal city, getting out of the city and riding through the Imphal plains, paddy fields on both sides of the road and a mountain on the horizon in front of me, reaching that mountain and starting the ascent to the mountain which in another 65 - 70 odd Kms will take me to Moreh, the innumerable police and Assam Rifles checkposts (some 6 to 8) in that 70 Km odd stretch where I had to stop and prove my identity and intentions. Suddenly the flash of images paused at one particular police checkpoint and I knew I had found the rope to cling on and get out of the swamp.</div>
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There is a Tamil community settled in Moreh (Read that story <a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/05/the-story-of-tamil-settlement-in-moreh.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a>). On one of these checkposts, I had met a Tamil guy on his way to Moreh and we had struck up a conversation. Pretty normal when you are dressed up in a biker attire and the fact that my motorcycle had a Tamil Nadu registration just helped matters. He had invited me to visit the Tamil Sangam office when I was in Moreh. I had other things in mind and I made a mental note that I would pay him a short courtesy visit the next day on my way back. But desperate times call for desperate measures and I had to seek the help of the Tamil Sangam. The earnestness in his invite just gave me the confidence that my night stay will be taken care of and I will have a wonderful story to tell people about once I am back and trust me the story just gets better.</div>
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Hope is a wonderful thing. In a split second I had everything sorted out. I have Rs 120 in my pocket. I'll ask the Tamil Sangam for a place to put up for the night. Spend not more than Rs 70 on dinner. The next morning keep aside Rs 10 for the entry ticket to Burma. (You can take your vehicle till the first town Tamu some 12 Kms inside on the Burmese side of the border without any documentation processes). Skip breakfast. Head back to Imphal with Rs 40 in your pocket in case of any emergencies. This time make sure to withdraw cash from the ATM even if a hundred thousand people are in queue. Check into hotel and eat like a pig. With the comfort that this small ray of hope provided, I headed to the Tamil Sangam office in Moreh.</div>
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I reached the Tamil Sangam office and there were two men seated inside. I told them my sob story and about the Tamil guy I had met in the checkpost and requested them to help me out. They said their secretary is about to them and I waited for him indulging in some small talk with these guys. Soon the Tamil guy I had met on the checkpost arrived and very shortly after that the secretary too arrived. He too lamented about the fact that there are no ATM's in that town but added that SBI ATM was going to be open next month. I replied that I might not be staying here for a month. I only planned to stay one day here. I don't think he got my humour but he did get my predicament and a room was arranged for me. The generosity did not stop there. I was provided dinner by them, the next morning I was provided breakfast by them and they even sent one of their workers to accompany me to Tamu in Burma the next morning. Even the Rs 10 entry ticket was paid by the Tamil Sangam.</div>
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But there's more to the story. A man named Anand Rao had accompanied me to the restaurant for dinner the previous night. Over dinner and after dinner we had a conversation on the history of the town, the political and millitancy issues in these parts and a host of other things. As I was about to head to my room, he took out a 1000 rupee note and handed it to me. I was overwhelmed. I told him that I did not need the money as my needs have been more than taken care of. He insisted by replying nonchalantly that they pay more ransom money to the millitant groups and the police there and its a non issue and it will be helpful in case of some emergency on the way back. I kept the money not because I needed the money that much but more because I needed this memory. All my requests for details about his bank account to enable me repay the amount by online transfer later on fell on deaf ears.</div>
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The next morning as I was about to leave, I tried convincing the Tamil Sangam secretary for a bank account number so that I can transfer the money back. I don't know what he understood but he told me there is no need to transfer the money but to write an application that "Rs 1000 for George Aikara so and so on a all India bike trip in Moreh on 3rd and 4th Sep2013". I wrote that application and was about to start my bike when a guy comes in and hands me another Rs 1000 note. I clarified that I had already got the money yesterday from Anand and I did not need more cash. The Secretary responded that Anand gave that on personal capacity and this 1000 rupees is from the Tamil Sangam. This time I just refused. I thanked everyone profusely and left off to Imphal.</div>
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I had come in with Rs 120 in my pocket and I was leaving with Rs1120 which could easily have been Rs 2120. If you ever happen to be in Moreh, do visit the Tamil Sangam and ask them about me. I will remember them fondly throughout my life and I hope they do too. Also if you happen to meet Anand Rao, please buy him a beer.</div>
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And yes the SBI ATM might have come up in Moreh by now, but carry enough cash anyway :)</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-33934951110091522372014-05-18T20:19:00.001-07:002015-02-24T00:50:35.676-08:00The story of the Tamil settlement in Moreh, Manipur on the Burma border<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Here's the link to my previous entry</span></i><br />
<a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/04/a-town-called-moreh-somewhere-on-burma.html"><i><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/04/a-town-called-moreh-somewhere-on-burma.html</span></i></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Moreh is a place 100 Km to the east of Imphal on the Burma border. To be honest, there is nothing noteworthy about this town / village that people would want to live there - let alone visit. But history has been kind to this place. When the British empire left the subcontinent and national boundaries were being redrawn, Moreh got a good deal. It became the town which separated one country from the other, and that changed its destiny. The destiny did not change overnight. It took time and it took a race of people completely different from the indigenous tribes of people inhabiting these parts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The northeast, in general is a place with a demographically diverse set of people and Moreh is no different. However when one of these sets is a Tamil population, one can be pardoned for being surprised to say the least. After all it is quite an inaccessible place miles away from Tamil Nadu and not really a place with its inherent militancy issues, that would prod people to migrate in search of a livelihood. No wonder the first time I heard it I was very much intrigued.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">To understand how a Tamil population ended up here one has to go back to the time when the sun hadn't set on the British empire and the whole of India and Burma were under British rule. A lot of Tamilians had set off to Burma during that time to work there and when the British left in 1947, the Tamil population stayed back in Burma as they had built a thriving community over generations. However in the 1960's when the military junta government took over Burma, a lot of the non indigenous communities fearing atrocities, headed back to their original host countries although I may add quite a few stayed back. These Tamil communities reaching Tamil Nadu, 2 to 3 generations down did not feel very welcome in Tamil Nadu and decided to go back to Burma. The political situation in Burma being what it was, the only route to go back was via the land route through Moreh. They took that route and reached the Moreh village (I was told by the Tamil population residing there that Moreh at that time was just a jungle and even today when I have visited that place, I am still confused as to whether it can be called a town) to cross over to the Burmese side. The Burmese authorities denied them permission to enter the country and these people just settled down in Moreh. One really has to admire their industriousness as slowly they set up a trade chamber for the import / export of commodities across the border using their erstwhile connections across the border to good effect.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The period from the late 60's to well in the 90's business was good. At one point there were close to 1500 (from what the people over there told me) Tamil families living in Moreh. In monetary terms it was significant enough and wresting authority and control over this trade was a lucrative proposition for everyone involved. Aided with the absence of the law and order machinery, the Tamil groups had their own sets of gangs with muscle men armed with sticks dictating the power equations in that region. Border towns everywhere are notorious for the smuggling of expensive goods and contraband substances and Moreh was no different. Allegations flew thick and fast (and maybe there is some truth to it) that the Tamil gangs also had their interests in the drug trafficking arena. Pretty soon word started spreading about the flourishing inter border trade and slowly other players wanting a share of the pie started getting interested.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The lure of wealth attracts a lot of unwanted elements and sometimes it changes the existing power equations. Underground militias from the indigenous Manipuri tribes started taking interest and pretty soon they neutralized the Tamil gangs prevalent in these parts. After all the militias from the indigenous tribes came with guns. Stick wielding Tamil musclemen gangs were no match for the gun wielding militias. Presently as is the common knowledge in these parts militias from the Kuki tribes are the helm of the power hierarchies in this region and the Tamil gangs fight for dominance are restricted to their own communities.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another thing adding to the woes of the Tamil community is the fact that since the late 90's and early 2000's Chinese goods started flooding the Burmese markets and demand for Indian goods reduced considerably. The changed power equations and the Chinese goods flooding the Burmese market have hit the fortunes for a lot of Tamil families, who were just modest small time traders. They no longer found Moreh lucrative enough to reside in. A lot of them have left the place for good. Still there are some 400 odd families left in Moreh and the Moreh chamber of commerce is still headed by a Tamil body. There is a Tamil mandir replete with Tamil architecture and a Tamil Sangam (sort of an NGO) which has pretty well ensured that the Tamil culture is preserved in this community. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Moreh is undoubtedly one of the most cosmopolitan villages I have encountered on my motorcycle trip. Apart from the Tamil community, there are some 4 to 5 Sikh families, laborers from Bihar, Jharkhand & Orissa, some families from Andhra, a sprinkling of people from a few other states and of course the local Kuki and Meitei people. These people live under the shadow of the gun with the militia pretty much running a parallel government. But human beings everywhere are survivors. As the Tamil guy I was chatting up with in the evening told me "There are some 5 to 6 underground groups active here. We pay taxes to all of them and yes to the policemen too"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh yes btw the next morning I had idly sambhar for breakfast. Something for the stereotypes :) </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">The Tamil community in Moreh helped me when I was stranded in Moreh with only Rs 120 in my pocket. You can read that story here</span></i><br />
<a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/06/the-world-is-much-kinder-place-than.html"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><i>http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/06/the-world-is-much-kinder-place-than.html</i></span></a></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-size: large;">About Me:</span></b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-75785479944692750502014-04-23T07:23:00.003-07:002015-01-28T03:03:23.984-08:00A town called Moreh - somewhere on the Burma border and how the hell did Tamilians end up here (part 1)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>Here is the link to my previous blog entry</i><br />
<i><a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/04/manipur.html"><span style="color: red;">http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2014/04/manipur.html</span></a></i><br />
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I am more of a night person. Its cooler, quieter and activities which may be described as immoral in the daytime seem more acceptable once its dark. Even if the immoral activities that I long for elude me, I still like to walk around in a new place at night time. The good people are all asleep and the wicked ones carry on with their activities in the cover of darkness. There is always a fear, a fear that there is something dangerous lurking around the corner waiting to pounce on you. Shady bars, groups of men couched together talking in hushed tones, in languages you don't understand when you pass by them in dingy street corners, specially in places where you clearly stand out as an outsider is one hell of a high few drugs can match upto. For all the beauty Manipur is blessed with - the security situation prevalent in the state really screws it up for everyone. Imphal - the capital city shuts down by 5:30 to 6 pm and after that one has nothing to do except for sitting in hotel rooms and wait for the sun to come up the next morning. I am not very particular about following the rules laid out and I do bend them once in a while to suit myself. But one look at the menacing looks of the Manipuri policemen carrying sophisticated weaponry and I know this is not really the place where I would be bending rules for frivolous purposes. The only silver lining in this mess is that the hotel waiter can get you alcohol from the black market to your room. Even though Manipur is a dry state, alcohol is very easily available and even the black market prices for alcohol seem reasonable (in fact cheaper) if you are used to buying alcohol in say a Mumbai or a Bangalore.<br />
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So everything was according to plan. Roamed around in the city the next morning. Went to Loktak lake some 40 odd Kms away on the morning after that. Came back to Imphal before lunch time. Headed to a cyber cafe to check out routes and other stuff to my next destination Silchar. But somewhere deep down I did not have enough of Manipur. Every traveler I believe is a journalist at some deep level and Manipur is one hell of a place to get a good story. I was still looking for my story here. I started researching about Manipur sitting in that internet cafe and I stumbled upon this town called Moreh. 'Moreh is a small town some 100 odd Kms away from Imphal on the Burma border' is the first thing I read from one of the articles I stumbled upon and by the time I finished reading more articles about Moreh I was sold.<br />
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Firstly I came to know that one could take their private vehicles to Tamu - the first town on the Burmese side of the border some 8 Kms inside without any documentation formalities. The third foreign country my bike would enter - leave apart everything else, this prospect itself was enough to get me going to Moreh. Then there is this Tamil Sangam in Moreh. There are some 400 odd Tamil families residing in Moreh and how they ended up in Moreh is a very interesting story. I will elaborate this story in my next blog post. Also the more I read about Moreh, I came to know that insurgent groups over there in the border areas control the allegedly flourishing drug trade across the borders. This town also claims to be more cosmopolitan than the rest of Manipur as Burmese alcohol is openly sold in the shops over there and the shops don't close till 8 or 9 in the evening. Considering the rest of Manipur closes by around 6 this was pretty interesting to note. Some articles also mentioned that there is a burgeoning sex trade in Moreh with women coming from Burma offering their services. Don't get me wrong. I was not keen on availing these services but somewhere the dark side of things intrigue me.<br />
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Drugs, sex and alcohol. One I indulge in regularly, one occasionally and one hardly. In no particular order mind you. I'll just leave it to your imagination. Sitting in that unimpressive cyber cafe I was already imagining myself sitting in a bar in Moreh, with hot women dancing around the table and people snorting cocaine on the other table. Somewhere I also imagined loud gunshots outside the bar where armed men on horses are fighting each other. Yes I was still wearing my cowboy hat and finishing off my beer when that hot waitress comes seductively with the bill. I tip her handsomely and leave for my hotel room. Something broke this lovely dream I was having sitting in that internet cafe but I was convinced that this is the place where I will get my story.<br />
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After all the best stories always involve drugs, sex and alcohol. The prospect of gunshots (which is very real in Manipur) would only spice up the whole story. So I did head up to Moreh the next day. I did get my story and boy what a story. Its probably one of the best stories I'll ever have in my life. One I will irritate my grandchildren with. I'll come up with that story in my next post but I can tell you one thing<br />
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"The best stories do not involve drugs, sex or alcohol. The best stories are created when people are kind to one another"<br />
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<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-50499909011270668632014-04-05T04:25:00.002-07:002015-01-28T03:04:53.121-08:00Manipur<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hindsight is a wonderful thing. It allows you to describe an event with a lot more clarity in your thoughts. When I think back of my trip almost all of the time Manipur is the first thing that comes to mind. There are certain points in a trip like this that has a great impact on you. Manipur was one such place.<br />
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Manipur is an incredibly beautiful place. Hills on the sides, a vast central plain in the valley where Imphal is located with lush green paddy fields on both sides of the roads - its a delight riding a motorcycle there. Sadly this is not what is newsworthy in Manipur. Manipur is home to a large number of insurgent groups around 25 to 30 in an area of 22,327 sq Kms and is probably one among the most militarized zones in the world. Much more sadly even this fact rarely makes the news in the mainstream Indian media.<br />
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Manipur is primarily inhabited by the Meities, Kukis and Nagas. From each of them, a set of insurgent groups have sprouted up with aspirations ranging from a separate state to independence. What all of them have in common is that they have taken up guns to fulfill these aspirations. Meitie groups fight for an independent country, Naga groups fight for a greater Nagaland state ie to merge Naga dominated areas in Manipur with the Nagaland state, Kuki groups fight for a separate state for the Kukis. Although on a lighter note, I do like the idea of a separate state for Kukis as it will be called Kukiland. Who wouldn't like such a name. Anyway apart from these insurgent groups, just to spice up things for the people of the state there is also a commando unit of the Manipur police - very notorious for ruthlessly putting out any sort of opposition. The kinds who would prefer encounters over arrests. Then you have Indian Reserve Battalions (IRB) and the Assam Rifles who sometimes assist the Manipuri police in anti insurgency operations.<br />
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The political situation in Manipur is quite a complex one and one should never try to simplify such complex situations by assigning heroes to one side and villains on the other. Heroes invariably end up on your side while the villains are always on the other side. Everyone has their selfish interests and maintaining the status quo probably suits them. If you talk to people they will tell you that the insurgents extort money and the policemen do the same. The security situation ensures there is lesser accountability which makes the politicians task of siphoning money much easier. The AFSPA (Armed Forces Special Powers Act) adds to the woes. I am not a security expert to suggest that it should be repealed but when a woman (Irom Sharmila) has been on a peaceful hunger strike from Nov 2000 the country should take notice. Repealing it may or may not be feasible but I am sure a lot could be done to make the act more humane and the security forces more accountable for the violations they commit under this Act.<br />
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A person holding a gun looks appealing only when you trust them completely. It does not matter if they are wearing a uniform or they are part of an insurgent group. The police commandos who move around in Imphal have such menacing looks - it scared the hell out of me. I ensured that I never prolonged eye contact with them. In Army checkposts I am more comfortable. A father who has served in the Army helps. The other civilians present - the local Manipuris are dealt with a lot of arrogance almost bordering hostility in these checkposts. Perceptions matter. The forces stationed in Manipur could undergo some lessons on people skills. Otherwise it runs the risk of looking exactly like what some people will term it as - an occupying force out to colonize the state.<br />
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Manipur and more generally the north east is greatly ignored by the country. If I give out an India outline map to 15 year old kids with state boundaries outlined, I don think more than 20% of the people (I am being optimistic) will be able to place it correctly. Sadly the numbers are unlikely to change even when these kids turn 30. I was very skeptical of entering Manipur because of the security situation prevalent and was also advised against it. I am glad that I did not heed the advise and spent a good 6 days there. If there is a point in the bike trip where I can safely say that the trip changed me it is in Manipur. There are 3 stories that happened to me in a span of four days that completely humbled me. These are not stories of violence or hatred, these are stories of extreme kindness. The first story is in the border town of Moreh where I was short of cash and where there were no ATM's around - I was given food, shelter and a sum of Rs 1000 on my return. The second story is about when I got stranded in a small village called Barak and it got dark - I was given shelter free of cost by a woman who had a small shop there. The third story is that of truck drivers who helped me transport my bike free of cost to the next town when my bike broke down a few kilometers after Barak village the next morning.<br />
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I'll detail out the stories in my next entries. For now I just hope peace prevails in these areas<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-18289096232356405132014-03-13T04:55:00.001-07:002015-01-28T03:05:42.810-08:00When kindness puts you in a spot and Ishant Sharma helps you justify your actions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The northeast is one of the most beautiful parts of India which is pretty much untouched on the tourism calendar of most Indians. Misinformation about the social and political conflicts in the region doesn't help matters. It is such a pity because people from these parts of the country are right there at the top of my most favorite people in this country list. Women are respected, men are soft spoken and everyone is very courteous. Just the way I like a society to be. I have so many feel good stories from these parts and it has been overwhelming. But there are times when the kindness bestowed by people puts you in a really tight spot. This is one such story.<br />
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The ride from Jorhat in Assam to Kohima in Nagaland is one which is etched in my memory. In between I had to stop at Dimapur and get inner line permits for Nagaland. Nagaland due to a lot of millitant groups active in the state (although there is a ceasefire in place for a long time now and it might be in probability one of the most peaceful states in India for a tourist at least) there are a lot of police checkposts. Nagaland policeman and Naga people in general are probably amongst the sweetest in the whole of the northeast. It is a very big deal as most people in all northeastern states are very sweet. I was stopped at the border gate at the Dimapur and the policeman asked me for a lot of Id proofs and I had to fill in some details in a register. He questioned me for some time too. But all the while he had a smile and said "I am very sorry Sir. It is just that we have to go through these procedures and its for your own safety. Do not feel bad" quite a few times in between the questioning. Now being the son of an Army officer definitely has its advantages. In a lot of police interactions I have felt that I have been accorded the courtesy because of the respect or sometimes fear the Army generates in a lot of policemen. Had my Dad not been in the Army then maybe I might not have been accorded the same courtesy. But with Nagaland policemen it was different. Not just this particular checkpost but even others where I did not have the need to mention that my Dad is an ex Army officer because it never came up, I was accorded the same courtesy and respect.<br />
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Now the best part about the conversations with Naga people - policemen and otherwise is that they are never intrusive. They speak very politely. A man on a motorcycle filled with luggage definitely intrigues a lot of people and they come up and talk to you starting with a smile. They ask you a question and they listen without ever interrupting you. They have the perfect sense and timing on how long to prolong a conversation if the other guy is in a hurry or something. At the end they always say "Have a safe journey Sir" and smile. Although once or twice the thought did cross my mind that the smile was sarcastic and there has never been a safe journey in Nagaland. Well its nothing to worry. Its more to do with my sense of humour (or the lack of it) which makes me think in these ways. Riding in Nagaland has always been pleasant.<br />
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Oh just in case I forget to mention one fruit vendor some 70 Kms before reaching Kohima gave me two pineapple slices free of cost when I had stopped there thinking he might have some fruit juice. He did not have any juices but then free sweet pineapple slices are a good replacement. So anyway I reached Kohima and was looking around for a hotel room. The one hotel room I checked did not have water in the bathrooms so I came back to where I parked my bike and was contemplating my next moves. I was planning to stay in Kohima for 2 to 3 days and I was looking for a comfortable room in Kohima. Since I was on a budget in this trip, what I generally do is stay in filthy rooms for a while - even the kinds where you only use the toilets in the morning before you check out so that your room won't stink when you are inside and then treat myself to a comfortable room preferably with running hot water for a day or two. Kohima, I reached in a time when i was looking for a comfortable room. While I was contemplating there came two men - one from Manipur and the other his junior from Kerala - both working in the BSNL office in Kohima. You might say I am being pompous but if I try to be humble here I would be lying. I can safely say that the man from Manipur was really really impressed by my bike ride story.<br />
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First he insisted that he buys me pakodas and chai from a nearby shop. Insisted is a mild word I use because I am nice and I have my limitations in vocabulary when describing a situation wherein the only way to end the interaction was to give in to his demands. That particular shop was closed and I thought I had an escape but then he insisted that we go to another shop. The man seemed to be a connoisseur of tea and pakodas since he did not go to the next available shop for tea and pakoda but instead took me along to a shop some 400 meters away. The tea and pakodas were fine but I don't think it was worth the effort of walking another 400 meters. Well there might be something that he knows that I don't and I am not complaining about it. So then over those lovely pakodas and tea I asked him if he could suggest some hotels around in a decent budget. He said that hotels around this area would be expensive and then he was suddenly struck with an idea and he insisted that I stay in the BSNL guest house which he was in a position to arrange for me. I thought about the pros and cons of it. The pros being getting a comfortable room free of cost or in a very reasonable amount - free of cost most likely which in turn would enable me to consume more quantities of alcohol (very likely). The cons being I don't know - maybe an off chance he asks for sexual favours for all the help (quite unlikely). Add to the fact that the man is not someone who takes No for an answer that easily, I decided to take up that offer.<br />
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So I took my bike in the BSNL complex. Before getting to the guest house he made me meet his superiors in the office and the man was telling my story to every person he came across and also mentioning the fact that I look like Ishant Sharma - the Indian cricketer (that was quite uncalled for Sir). Then he took me to the guest house. I was kind of confused when I saw it from the outside. It did not seem like the grand palace as I had imagined it to be but then I still hoped to be blown away by the luxurious interiors. Then he opened the door and yes I was blown away. Shocked and surprised might be a better way to describe it. One look in the room and I knew I would only sleep here if there was a war going on outside or if there is a possibility of me getting laid with a woman who is right up there on the looks department. He looked at me and asked if it was ok. I was tempted to tell him as to what was exactly going through my mind but then I did not have the heart to tell him that. I just said it is perfect and resigned to my fate. I somehow managed to sleep in the room that night and early the next morning I decided that I would leave that room and check into some nice hotel for the next two days. I knew it would be difficult to convince him and till the time I was in Kohima, he would try and find me some other place to crash in if I was not finding this place to my liking.<br />
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The next morning while I packed up my stuff and waited for that guy to come and see me off I was in a dilemma. Should I just make an excuse and leave or should I be honest and upfront about my plans to him. He came, again mentioned to everyone who cared to listen about my story and about how I looked like Ishant Sharma (Why does he keep doing that ? ). I looked at him and thought if only he asked for sexual favours things would have been so much more easier. Still I mustered up enough courage and did the manly thing. I lied through my teeth and bid him goodbye. I told him that I was heading to Imphal today and said my goodbyes. I even went to the Nagaland heritage village just on the outskirts of the Kohima city in full riding gear and strapped with luggage. I entered the World War 2 museum located there in my riding gear. Not that I mind it that much but then I would never have imagined myself entering a museum in riding gear. I came back to Kohima in the afternoon. Found a hotel room which suited my budget and comfort and took that hot water bath in the shower I was just pining for all the while hoping against hope that I don't come across him again till the time I was in Kohima.<br />
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To that man from Manipur in Kohima - Sir if you happen to come across this blog, I am really sorry. I wanted that hot water bath real bad. I might have exaggerated a bit (not really. I am just trying to be polite) describing the state of the guest house and maybe if it was some other day I might have gladly stayed in that guest house. But all said and done that thing you do about comparing me with Ishant Sharma on looks is not amusing at all :)<br />
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<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-50232466380819559442014-02-26T03:45:00.000-08:002015-03-02T09:58:30.795-08:00Four Boats And A Beer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Brahmaputra divides the whole state of Assam in a nearly perfect half creating along its path a very fertile valley on both sides of the river. Lush green paddy fields, the Kaziranga national park, the tea gardens in Dibrugarh - Assam has a lot to offer to the tourist visiting there. Unlike me, a lot of tourists do not have the luxury of time while traveling in Assam. I had the luxury of time but still Assam is one place where I can look back and say "Been there and NOT done any of that".</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not that I had anything against Assam. I actually wanted to spend a lot of time there. Its just that Assam happened to be the wrong place at the wrong time. I had reached Guwahati after spending some 10 odd days in Bhutan. Trust me Bhutan tends to linger in your mind for some time. The fact that Assam is more of plains rather than hills doesn't help matters. When you are riding in the mountains for a long time and suddenly you reach the plains, the heat and the crowd in the plains get to you. You want to head back to the hills as soon as possible. I thought I'll pay a visit to the Kaziranga national park before I head to Tawang in the Arunachal hills but then I am not really fond of animals. I do like them when they are cooked and if I can help save a tiger or two, I would gladly do it but then I don't like visiting them in their homes and I prefer that they too return the favour. So I skipped the urge (if we can call it that) to visit Kaziranga and headed to Tawang. After that I reached Itanagar, serviced my motorcycle in a shop that had just opened that day. My motorcycle had the distinction of being the first ever bike being serviced by that mechanic in his independent shop that he had opened along with two others. Well he did an average job but I was searching for a bike servicing center in that area and I just happened to ask him for directions and his enthusiasm won me over and I ended up getting it serviced from him. But I don't hold it against him. I really think his enthusiasm will make him a respectable mechanic one day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So Majauli was my only chance to undo all the wrong and give Assam the chance it deserves. Majauli is the large fresh water island on the Brahmaputra river. Claims vary from being the largest fresh water island in the world to the 24th largest fresh water island in the world. It is home to the Mising tribe of people and it has its own unique traditions. The fact that it is an island would mean there would be boats to carry the motorcycle to the place and that is just an icing on the cake. There is something very romantic about loading your motorcycle on a boat and I was very excited about it. So I started off early morning from Itanagar and reached Khaboli ghat crossing North Lakhimpur and a drunk cop who just stopped me unawares at 9 in the morning somewhere on the way, looking to make a few bucks of me. Tactfully (which involves pretending like an Army officer on leave and giving him a contemptuous look) I avoided paying him anything and reached Khaboli ghat. The boat to take me to the other side was due in an hour and I decided to eat something in one of the huts nearby. While I was eating my poori sabji, I noticed men in a group all smiles drinking something. You don't need the IQ of an Einstein to understand that it is quite likely an alcoholic beverage. I was curious to check how it tasted and asked for a small sip and they gladly obliged.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Rice beer is one of the best things invented by man after the wheel . Since I had to drive I resisted the temptation to have more. But those guys egged me on and somewhere I have noticed that I have a big heart when there is alcohol on offer. I got one whole glass for myself, drank with them and by then it was time for my boat. I bid them goodbye and embarked on the boat. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0d6cX4WW_2xQzeiTfGvvB1F7-HMReFDhofniCfG0v23RPUsWlppOYu8kfv1dELX7cXlm_EOU2aHRPpmLBKG_-PyIdZ23ImdvK78yduwyBAuoXFCoG69GPK5ZyJ7Tja46JFYZ6CFjqKY/s1600/IMG_20141107_011730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0d6cX4WW_2xQzeiTfGvvB1F7-HMReFDhofniCfG0v23RPUsWlppOYu8kfv1dELX7cXlm_EOU2aHRPpmLBKG_-PyIdZ23ImdvK78yduwyBAuoXFCoG69GPK5ZyJ7Tja46JFYZ6CFjqKY/s1600/IMG_20141107_011730.jpg" height="640" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was some 25 minute ride to the other side and I came to know from other passengers that I needed to cross two more islands to reach Majauli. Two more boats on the slight rice beer buzz would be just heavenly. I reach the other side, ride on the kutcha roads for some 15 min take the next 5 min boat. Then another kutcha road ride for about 10 min and another 5 min boat ride and finally I am in Majauli. I look for hotel rooms within my budget - they are filthy. I really wanted to stay a night there. If not for anything else maybe just for the rice beer. But with a heavy heart I went to the Majauli boat Jetty and caught the last boat to Jorhat - a 1.5 hour boat ride on the majestic Brahmaputra river, to head to Nagaland the next day. Check out the link below for the photographs of that day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well Assam its not you its me. You are beautiful and your people were very nice to me. I am just a jerk. I never kept my promises and it was just one night stands with you. Please forgive me. One day I'll come back and we will take it to the next level.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh by the way please do not drink and drive. Unless of course it is rice beer and there happens to be four boats in the story.</span></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-size: large;">About Me:</span></b></u></div>
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<i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-59005460219525719452014-02-18T04:46:00.002-08:002015-01-28T03:07:16.291-08:00The Indian Army - lest we forget<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The Army - there is something about this profession that turns on every man. You are trained to kill, you fire guns at will and no matter where you are, most people in the country respect you. Also the amount of alcohol available for consumption at cheaper prices certainly does not hurt. Alright you can't really fire guns at will, I just wrote it because it rhymed but the point is there is so much pride and honour attached to the profession that if you have some or the other connection to the Army you try to associate yourself to it. Well I have it pretty easy - My father was an Officer in the Indian Army.<br />
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As an Army kid I have been raised in different parts of the country and as is the norm with Army kids I also used to arrogantly flaunt it around. A lot of Army kids have difficulty coming to terms with the fact that it is their parents and not them who are special and worthy of all the respect showered. Different people take different amounts of time but gradually every Army kid does get over it. Growing up in various Army cantonments with Army men all around, every Army kid has fancied himself to be an Army officer at least once in his life and even though he might have come to terms with his civilian life - the sight of the olive green rekindles in him with a thought of what could have been.<br />
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That is why the ride from Guwahati to Tawang was special. As a young officer my father was stationed in these parts in the late 1970's, early 1980's. Basically he was my age when he was there. Although grudgingly I must admit a lot more fit and a very lot more good looking. All throughout the ride whenever I see an Army installation or an Army officer pass me by, I would start imagining my Dad passing by these roads. (Although the black and white thing that happens when people do that in movies never happened. Maybe you need to look like a movie star too). In the evenings when I talked to him on the phone he'll keep telling me about how the roads were pathetic and how the place was very beautiful and I would tell him the roads have improved now. Now they are just bad but the place is as beautiful as ever. So I can just imagine how things would have been during the 1962 war.<br />
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Well for your benefit I'll try to give you an idea of the present condition of the roads. There's a place called Sappar and a place called Senge some 20 odd Kms from Sappar on the way to Tawang after you cross Bomdilla. There is a 5 - 6 odd Km stretch where roads are not yet constructed and the road is all slushy. Even in the slushy road there are 4 or 5 stretches about 100 or 200 odd metres long where your whole tyre sinks in the mud. When that happens you have no other option other than to accelerate and your bike starts swaying here and there but then you can't stop because if you do you just might get stuck. Going uphill is still ok cause no matter how much you accelerate you still move at a slow speed. Its when after you visit Tawang and you have to come back the same road that these stretches just scare the living daylights out of you. Its like white water rafting. Your bike starts moving like a raft in a rapid and you hardly have any control over your bike and the fact that you did not fall from the bike has nothing to do with your biking skills. Its just plain luck. The only thing I was trying to ensure was that the bike is on the side of the cliff and not on the side of the valley. After every such stretch I would stop my bike, smoke a cigarette to calm myself (Mom in case you are reading this - this line is just a creative liberty I take), pray to God that keep me single for the rest of my life if you want, but just make me cross these stretches safely. The moment I crossed the last stretch I was so elated that I stopped my bike, sat on the ground on the side of the road for some 10 minutes, looked in the sky and said "You know the thing about keeping me single the rest of my life was just a figure of speech. Do not take it very seriously". <br />
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Now imagine the year 1962. There is a war going on in these areas and the Chinese have captured a lot of territory. The Indian troops fighting are four days away from the nearest road. That means supplies are to be air dropped because mules have their limitations. Fuel (basically kerosene for cooking and all) is dropped in cylindrical drums and food items are airdropped via parachutes to the troops fighting over there. The terrain is hilly so a lot of these drums roll over to the Chinese side and depending on the wind, a lot of the food supplies also reach the Chinese side. For all you know if we had just poisoned the food supplies maybe a lot more Chinese casualties could have been inflicted. To make matters more interesting Chinese troops are fighting with AK - 47's and our troops fight with .303 guns wearing cotton uniforms in extreme cold conditions. Yet brave men fought valiantly and many laid down their lives to capture back these areas so that I could travel these parts 50 years later and act all cool about it. Suddenly the quotes inscribed in a lot of war memorials "When you go home, Tell them of us and say, For your tomorrow, we gave our today" start making a lot of sense.<br />
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It isn't about the patriotism. Patriotism is an overrated term that everyone from your politician to your cricketer, to your movie star, to just about anyone uses to win an argument in their favour. More than patriotism the Indian Army is about the professionalism. I love to quote this incident about Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw to anyone who cares to listen. At the time of partition the British Indian Army was split into the Indian Army and the Pakistan Army. Soldiers had a choice to either be in the Indian Army or be a part of the Pakistani Army. Sam Bahadur (as he is more lovingly known) chose to be in the Indian Army. Although technically a Field Marshal never retires but years later after he had finished active service, a journalist asked him what would have it been like had he joined the Pakistani Army. He just had his trademark witty retort "then I guess Pakistan would have won the 71 war". Not undermining his wit one bit, I also like to believe that this particular statement reeks of professionalism too. This is the kind of professionalism that sets the Army apart from a lot of other organizations in the country. Perhaps more than patriotism, what this country really needs is professionalism.<br />
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So if possible do travel to these far flung parts of the country. Most of them are such beautiful places that will just blow you away. Talk to someone who has been in the forces for quite some time, if you don't believe me. And if you happen to be traveling to Tawang do stop at the Jaswantgarh war memorial. Read the stories of the 62 battle over there. Come out and on the opposite side of the road the Army has a stall which provides free tea to all who pass by. Have a cup of tea and spare a thought for the soldiers. Not just the ones who were involved in this battle but for every man and woman who guard your borders. When you think of them never sympathize with them. Its the utmost disrespect you can ever show to a soldier. Reserve your sympathies for mediocre men because soldiers deserve better.<br />
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They are always meant to be saluted.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-34624895263169907652014-02-07T06:52:00.001-08:002015-01-28T03:08:27.305-08:00Barless in Jaigaon, Speechless in Bhutan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Bhutan is a mythical place. The stories you hear of Bhutan will always intrigue and excite you. You are full of expectations and you look forward to visit Bhutan. Bhutan conducts itself in sharp contrast to what the rest of the world considers normal or rather practical. Gross National Happiness instead of Gross Domestic product, preserving the forest cover instead of rapid industrialization and the reluctance to embrace globalization at a fast pace is very opposite to the conventional wisdom prevalent in most parts of the world. Critics and there are quite a few, might argue that it is Utopian dream - a bubble waiting to burst and burst out pretty loud. Well I am no expert. Maybe its just a Utopian dream and the bubble is set to burst. I just wanted to make sure I have visited Bhutan before the bubble bursts.<br />
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Walking an unconventional path often tends to create idiosyncrasies of their own. Bhutan is no different. There is so much confusion regarding entry formalities in Bhutan for tourists that no matter how much you research you are still bound to be a little confused when you reach the border town. In case you are Indian things are a lot easier but still a bit confusing. I have penned down my experiences in a blog at that time. I'll paste the link to that blog entry at the end of this post. I hope it would be of help to any Indian tourist who plans to enter Bhutan by road.<br />
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This entry however is the story of the evening when I was in Jaigaon. Jaigaon is the border town in West Bengal wherein you enter Bhutan through Phuntshooling. Jaigaon is like any typical Indian small town - chaotic, loud and unorganized. Being Indian I am used to all this and if I don't have to drive in these conditions I sometimes like it too. Where it is unlike a lot of other small towns is the fact that there is a very unimpressive gate just near the marketplace and on the other side of the gate is a different country. I reached Jaigaon in the evening and even in the fading lights I could make out that the other side was cleaner and more orderly. Anyway I found a hotel room some 200 metres from the border gate and checked in there for the night.<br />
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Like I mentioned there is a lot of confusion about entry formalities in Bhutan specially if you are a single traveler. I had read up on the internet that single tourists are not allowed entry and that sort of thing and I had pretty much prepared myself with the fact that I might not be allowed to enter Bhutan. Also as soon as I checked into the hotel, the reception guy who also acted as a tourist guide told me with a lot of conviction citing his years of experience as a tourist guide in these parts that single tourists will not be allowed into Bhutan. I anyway told him that since I had come this far I might as well try for it the next morning. He was supportive but it was the kind of support you tend to give to a losing cause just to keep you happy for some more time. I realized it and went to my room and I knew there was a problem. I really wanted to travel Bhutan and I realized I might have to do it some other time or if luck favoured me some motorcycle groups might end up here and I can tag along with them. I was trying to find solutions sitting and thinking about the problem in hand and after a while I realized the best way to deal with these problems is the most obvious one - go out get drunk and deal with the problem at the time when it is supposed to be dealt with. So I went out looking for a bar in that small town of Jaigaon to drown my sorrows in alcohol.<br />
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So I exited my hotel and took a right on the market road and walked a good 800 metres. Then I walked a little more. Then I walked back to my hotel and started walking in the other direction. I couldn't walk for more than 500 meters in that direction because of a fencing erected between the Indian and the Bhutanese borders. It was very surprising that I couldn't spot a single bar or a liquor shop all this while. I have slept the night in a lot of small towns during the course of my trip and I know for a fact that there is an alcohol shop in a 1 Km radius 90% of the times unless there is a religious significance to the city. Jaigaon is no significant city - religious or otherwise. Its only claim to fame is being the border town and even then most people will be impressed by Phuntshooling - the town on the Bhutanese side of the border. I was perplexed and thought of going back to my room but then I thought I'll just ask a shopkeeper for directions to the bar.<br />
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Thank God for that. He told me that there are no bars in Jaigaon and if you want to drink you need to cross over to the Bhutanese side some 100 metres away where you will find lots n lots of bars. Apparently Indians can cross over Phuntshooling town without any documentation. They just have to cross back to the Indian side by 9:30 pm IST (10:00 pm BST) before the border gates close. I crossed over, found a modest bar and suddenly understood the reason why Jaigaon is barless. Special Courier Whisky a very decent Bhutanese Scotch (I found it better than Blenders pride) was available for Rs 35 for a large peg. I had three different types of meat, one plate of fish and three large pegs of Special courier whisky and when I asked for the bill it turned out to be 325 Rupees. I was speechless. I decided even if I had to sleep with the immigration authorities in Bhutan I will do that but I'll make sure that I enter Bhutan.<br />
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Oh by the way just out of context a lot of people specially after watching the movie 'Lunchbox' tend to believe that 1 Indian Rupees equals to 5 Nu (Bhutanese currency). It is not the case. The Indian and Bhutanese currencies are of equal value.<br />
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Anyway the next day I did get an entry to Bhutan and NO I did not have to sleep with anyone. As it turns out the hotel reception guys conviction was misplaced and I traveled the entire breadth of Bhutan on my motorcycle. The landscape is something that will render you speechless. I remember riding through Eastern Bhutan and stopping every 10 to 15 min to click pictures and sometimes just to soak in the atmosphere. There is definitely something about Bhutan - I kid you not. The people, the places - its not something you will easily forget. Maybe its the Utopian dream they are trying to live. Maybe its impractical in the long run, so make sure you visit before the bubble bursts and Bhutan becomes just like the rest of us. But do pray and hope that the bubble never bursts.<br />
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<u><b>About Me:</b></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999;">P.S</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;">This is my blog entry I had penned down about entering Bhutan. This is for Indian tourists only. Hope it is of some help in case someone plans a road trip to Bhutan.</span><br />
<span style="color: #999999;"><a href="http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2013/08/guidelines-for-indian-tourists-entering.html" target="_blank">http://thecluelessrider.blogspot.in/2013/08/guidelines-for-indian-tourists-entering.html</a></span><br />
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7896040641354119851.post-27492778277233461162014-02-03T06:12:00.003-08:002015-02-26T02:44:56.487-08:00Of Football matches, Political agitations and being the only tourist in town<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">The football match between the Pelling school team and a visiting school team from a neighbouring village at the Pelling village football ground does not really look in the favour of the home team. They are trailing 1 - 0 in the second half and the whole crowd in this ground is hoping for an equalizer. Why am I watching a local school level football match ? I'll get to that later but the point is when you are in a small touristy village like Pelling and you are an outsider you can't really go unnoticed and to make it worse I happened to be there in a time when I was the only tourist in the whole village. Well there is a foul called by the referee and the home team just got a free kick from some 30 metres from the goal. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pelling is a beautiful village some 80 Kms from Gangtok. Tourists flock this place for a beautiful view of the Kanchenjunga. The hotel rooms are generally packed and as one would expect that finding hotel rooms which offer a brilliant view are slightly heavy on your pocket. But if you plan it out smartly like the way I did you might get a good deal. I reach this place in the first week of August 2013 and I manage to get a spacious room with a king size bed with huge windows that overlook the kanchenjunga peak, very clean bathrooms with hot water etc etc all for a paltry sum of Rs 500 a night. All of this was achieved because the month of August being the rainy one over here and the month with a somewhat permanent cloud cover it is not exactly the tourist season. So rooms get very cheap. Well there is always one odd thing that you can ignore. I stayed there for three nights and not even once could I view the Kanchenjunga peaks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Still being the only tourist in a village has its own charm. Since this village does receive its fair bit of tourists, a tourist wandering around is not probably an unfamiliar sight but then everyone looks in amusement thinking "What is this moron doing here at this time of the year" and chuckle. Fortunately people in these parts are sweet enough not to think it out loud. Other perks include that the only restaurant open in the village at night time (which closes by 8:30 pm) send their waiters to the hotel room (which is a good 500 meters away from the restaurant) to check if I am having dinner before they decide to close the place down. Most importantly though, a school level football match also kind of gets you excited.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Coming back to the football match and why the hell was I there ? Most unpredictable situations in this country can be blamed on the political climate prevalent and this one is no different. Had it not been for a political agitation in a neighbouring state, I might have in all likelihood missed this football match. A wonderful one I must add in hindsight and hence I am willing to take part of the blame.When I had started from Gangtok towards Pelling the fuel in my tank was on the lower side and skipped the intelligent advise of people I met in Gangtok to fill up the tank in Gangtok before heading to Pelling. Long story short when I reached Pelling in the evening, the fuel was on reserve. Now Pelling does not have a petrol pump in the village but ration shops sell petrol in bottles at a slightly higher price. So all was good or so I thought. The next morning I realized petrol was not reaching these parts of Sikkim because of the Gorkhaland agitations in the Darjeeling hills nearby and locals around convinced me that there is no fuel trucks reaching these parts and nowhere in a 40 Km radius is it likely to get any fuel. So that upsets all my plans of riding around to nearby places and monastries and come back to the room by evening. So when you sitting there laughing at yourself at being stuck in a village where you can't even view the Kanchenjunga peaks, someone somewhere mentions a football match that is about to start at the village ground and your eyes light up. I think why not. I just might be the lucky charm that this school football team of the Pelling village needs to decimate the visiting team. So I am here and there is this guy who is about to take the free kick which the whole crowd is hoping to be the equalizer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At this point let me just mention I was taking still pictures in between the game from the sidelines. (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.145712808969182.1073741857.101961743344289&type=3#!/media/set/?set=a.145712808969182.1073741857.101961743344289&type=3">https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.145712808969182.1073741857.101961743344289&type=3#!/media/set/?set=a.145712808969182.1073741857.101961743344289&type=3</a>) Not that I am too much into high school level football but I just thought when I am very easily the odd one out in the crowd I might as well do some attention seeking stunts. I initially thought I might try my hand (or rather feet) at a bicycle kick or something like that but I generally resist the temptation to perform such stunts in the month of August and the seven months preceding and the four months succeeding August in the calendar. So I chose to take pictures instead. But there was something about this free kick. I just thought I'll take a video of this particular free kick as somewhere I believed this would be the equalizer. And it was. Here is the proof</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxDTXZaJRajL2ciaQuVn0k00ZOCVyTaNHv4_3JiwVa4xkj0IiolqDxgY_Gp3cX99LjMrq5AGpAGWjLuF35vWQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had imagined that the grateful villagers will come running up to me to celebrate the goal and there would be talks about constructing a monument in my honour in this particular village. Nothing of that sort happened and I was crestfallen that the villagers never acknowledged my contribution to the equalizer. I really believe I had a part and had I not captured that free kick in video the equalizer would have never been there. I guess it just serves them right that they ultimately lost in the penalty shootouts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Oh by the way the next morning I did take a jeep taxi to the town 12 Kms away and got some Rs 450 worth of petrol from a petrol pump which was sufficient to make me reach the next petrol pump on the way to my next destination. Well it was a little difficult to procure the petrol - I'll give you that but it just was not impossible to procure as everyone in Pelling made me to believe. I guess I am not the only one who exaggerates for effect :)</span></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-size: large;">About Me:</span></b></u></div>
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<i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;">A 7 month motorcycle ride that took me to every state in India, parts of Nepal and Bhutan and one town in Burma. These blog entries are inspired by this trip. Stories about people I met, stories about places I saw. Things that intrigued me, things that amused me. They say traveling changes you, they say traveling inspires you and they say a lot of other stuff. I don't know. I think a gun on the head is a better way to change people. I just hope that my travel stories entertain you</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white;">Right now I am in the process of writing a book based on this trip and figuring out the difference between a writer's block and procrastination.</span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>You can find more information on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Clueless-Rider/101961743344289" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Facebook page</span></a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/thecluelessrider" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Instagram account</span></a></i></span></span></div>
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George Aikarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15717099204292828142noreply@blogger.com2