Prelude to Himalayan Odyssey 07

The idea of riding a bullet came to my mind when I saw rajesh riding a machismo. I rode his bike from my house to my shop. It was confusing, heavy, rough and tough. “aane ssakdange maga is what he had said…” I did like it, but never thought I would buy one myself.

It was sometime in early 2006 that I was pretty jobless and was searching for places to visit over the internet. I somehow stumbled upon blogs and travelogues written by bulleteers. The sheer passion with which they rode was something that caught my eye. I then started looking up the net for more information. I happened to visit royalenfield.com and saw pictures of Himalayan odyssey 2005. I was absolutely amazed at the sights and the physical challenges that the guys would have gone through. That was THE day that I decided to buy myself a bullet. Whenever I spoke to friends of mine about the bullet, all of them were in awe. “that is the best bike maga….” “Mardonwali bike hai be….” and etc etc… is what I got to hear. Some of the girls said… bulletta?? Thu… ning yak adu?? Girija, my team lead said yen huccho yeno… “togo maga… bike trip hogi maja maadana… is what lee said. In general everyone showed atleast some excitement. My parents were out of the country and hence I spoke to uncle ramanuja about buying a new bullet. “hale bullet alli iro maja, hosadralli illa kano..” was what he said. “hale bullet hutt savirakke togondu maja madu…. Aar tingl aadmele ninge bore aagutte…. Guzri ge haaki, vond mast hosa car togondu settle aagu” is what he said.

With not much idea about bullets I set off in search of one. I suddenly remembered seeing a “for sale” board hung on to a bullet on the footpath of kamraj road. There would always be quite a few bullets out there. Nanda, was the name of the mechanic who bought and sold them. “nan hatra bullet togondu England gella togond hogidare saar…” “nimge yaav budget alli beku heli…. Yaav condition alli beku heli….. kodsana” said nanda. I went home and got my uncle along (for the bargaining) test drove three bullets and finalized a 1984 STd. one. It was black and gave the classic bullet feel and sound. “yeeenu problem illa saar…. Aaaaramagi 3-4 yrs vodsi..” said nanda. He quoted 16K and we finally bought it for 13,400. rode it back home and my cousin shwtha said “thu… dabba bike…. Pulsar is good…. I am not gonna sit on it…”.

I rode it proudly to office the next day. Showed it to all my friends as well. The engine started spewing oil the very next day. “adu yenilla saaar…. Vond chikka spring haakidre sari hogutte” said nandu. It oil leaks never stopped even after a couple of trips to nanda’s garage. The bike felt really majestic, but was very difficult to ride. The suspension was rock hard, I could actually feel going into and out of potholes. It was a pain to start it as well. A couple of weeks later sudan called up and we planned for a trip to his farmhouse. Sab and Sudan on his Splendor Pomchi on his Pulsar and Anu with me on the bullet rode to his farm. We had a great time in the farm. We sent a couple of yelnaaru (coconut water) as well. Told Sab about the plans to go on the Himalayan odyssey. He too wanted to be on the trip. “I will ride pillion…” said Sab. “Super maga!!!” and probably a high-five later we decided to leave. This time Anu sat with Pomchi I guess. Sudan and Pomchi both left first. Anu and Pomchi waved us “bye!!” I guess. Sab hopped on and I opened the throttle. The bullet’s smooth torque pulled us along effortlessly. We were past them in no time and were laughing out loud. Sab turned back and returned a “bye!!” to the guys. The road was a single road and had a layer of sand on it on the sides. I then noticed a very steep turn to the right and also realized that I had almost reached 50kmph by then. I had been in such situation a lot of times on my CBZ and had always been in control of it. All it required for me to be in control was a smooth application of both the brakes and shift to a lower gear. But, I ended up doing none of that. A hard push at the brakes using my left foot is all I did. The relative inexperience with brakes on the left might be the reason for that. “oh f*&#!!!!!” is what I said and then Sab realized as to what was happening. In no time the bullet was on the ground and was pulling us along the tarmac. We were finally thrown off the bike (I don’t know how?) and we fell inside a dry roadside gutter. I was seeing stars. I guess when it is dark and you are lying on you back in a gutter, that is what happens. I got out of the gutter and started dusting myself. “shit!!! This is exactly what I dint want to happen… shit!!!” is what I repeatedly said. The others rushed to us. “Rangu, are you ok?” said sudan. I said I am fine and got my bike up. While putting the mammoth on the main stand I realized an electric shock sorts in my right hand. Sudan saw that and said “that is a deep cut maga….. it needs stiches..” Someone from a nearby house came by and was mumbling.. “eee jagadalli idu maamulu….. vond road hump haaki andre bolimaklu haakakk saaythare…” Sudan got directions to the nearest clinic from him and I sat on his bike. The next 3-4 kms ride was a very painful, bleeding ride. The doctor at the clinic said “saar.. nange stiches haakakke barilla… neevu MS playa dalliro hospital ge hogi….. avru haakthare” and wrapped a bandage around the wound. We came back to THE spot where the others waiting. “nan magne… crash gaurdinda sparks banthu neevu biddaga” said Pomchi. Sab had some minor cuts and I apologized to him a couple of times. Except me, none knew how to ride a bullet and so, I sat on it and kick started it. I asked Sab to sit with Sudan but he refused and came with me. The crashgaurd had a bend and the handle bar had a bend to the left as well. The handle-bar position was very akward and painful as well as I had to streach my right hand to reach the handle. We were then escorted by Sudan in the front and Pomchi just behind us. I and Sab were cracking jokes and laughing in pain. We finally reached London Hospital in MS Palya after a seemingly long 5 km ride. The doctor saw the wound and started enquiring about the accident. After the information exchange he asked me to lie down and gave a local anesthetic to the wound. He started stiching it up along with the usual chit-chat. “neev sotware engineer gala lifeu aaramu ri…” “saar, neev doctorgalige society alli sigo value namge yaavattu sigalla….. yavde matrimonial column togondru doctor ge demand jaasthi….” I said. By now Anu and Pomchi had left the small room as they could not watch the wound being stitched up. Sudan pointed at a small rash on my forehead and asked the doc “doctor, could you have a look at this? Does it need a bandage or something?” the doctor dismissed it as just a small puncture wound. I asked the doctor “so, would you put me in a tub of water to find the puncture? Hee hee….” The doctor just grinned at my joke and Sudan was too tensed to laugh I guess. We were about to leave and I wanted to ride the bull back home. But, the guys would not agree. Sudan wanted to ride the bull and wanted sab to ride his splendor. I protested, “magas, its not easy… I myself got confused. I would not want another accident here. Let me ride it.” As expected there were no takers for my idea. I then came up with another idea. “boys, lets leave the bull here. Not a soul is gonna touch this antique. I shall ride with one of u guys and lets come back in the morning and get it back home.” Again no takers. Finally, anu and sudan decided that sudan would ride the bull and sab who dint ride a geared bike, would ride the splendor. I and anu were supposed to take an auto and reach home. On the way back sudan met with an accident. To cut sudans looooong story short, he braked at a signal and lost balance and landed the big bull on a car or auto whatever. He confessed to this some weeks later. Alls well ends well and I was back home. My aunt was freaked out and she called my uncle immediately. Uncle was cool. “hogli bidu.. ning yenagilla alva.” Said he after patiently listening to my story. The stiches gave me a lot of pain for a few days and I was back at work after a days rest. “yaakri bekittu nimge idella…” said girija. “idella irbek ri madam jeevanadalli…. Ilde horde nim life thara bore aagutte” said Naveen in is usual style. “nim gal hatra yarig maathaadakke aagutte.. yeno maadkolli… Rangan, inna yerad dina rest beku andre leave togondu maneli iri.. nanu adapters testing maadthini” said girija. “super alla maga… aaramagi hogu…” said Naveen with a big grin. I dint want to get bogged down by a small accident, or I guess wanted to be macho, so I worked in pain for the next week. I started riding my CBZ almost immediately.

Life moved on and was pretty normal. “saar, fork bend aagbittide.. handle bend aagbittide.. yak saaar??? Nimge turn kaanislilva??” asked nanda my mechanic. “illa guru, stitch hakiskollo aase ittu…. Charandiyalli biddu stars nodo aase ittu…. Adakke turn nodi saha zoom allli hode.” Is what I wanted to say. But, I ended up saying “hogli bidi guru, repair maadbittu phone madi” uncle and me decided not to tell dad and mom of this as they were supposed to come back in a weeks time. I wore a full-sleeved shirt to the airport and they were surprised to see me dressed like that. Once we reached home, my parents were surprised to see the bull parked inside. “oh!!! Id bere.. naa idre togolokke bidalla antha naa ilde irovaga togondidane….” Is what my dad said, pointing to me and talking to the shop workers. That is his usual way of showing displeasure at something. Or that is his usual style I guess. Once inside and settled uncle said “bikeu togondaythu… tripu hogaythu… rakhta balinu aagaythu..” mom and dad were shocked and calmed down after a patient hearing to the whole story. After the usual “hushargi vodsakk aagalva… nee yavaglu hinge…. Helid maathu kelalla…. Aa bullet sahavasa beda andru kelalla…..” dialogues, dad said “sari, aa accident gaadi modlu maaru…. Aa kittogiro CBZ nu maari vond hosa bullete togo….”

The accident put a lot of doubts in my mind. Doubts such as “will I be able to ride this tough bullet on the toughest of terrains in the Himalayas?” “lets scrap this whole idea of riding o the Himalayas….” I then finally decided to sell the bull and think of the trip later. Even if I were going on the trip, I would do it on a bike that’s in very good condition, nopoint risking life and limb is what I decided. After a lot of haggling and bargaining with fiyaz (another mechanic on nandidurga road) and the good old nanda, I sold the bull back to nanda for 11,000. I did not bother much about the bullet or the Himalayan trip for a while. But, one thing was always at the corner of my mind. This trip was one of the few things that I desperately wanted to do, just for myself. I was not able to decide whether to go ahead or scrap the trip idea. I was very undecided for a while. I finally decided that I wanted to go on this trip. My mom was the one who helped me decide. “bullet togondu, Himalayan trip hog beku antha idini.”, I explained to my parents over dinner one fine night. They thought that I was joking and dismissed it with a casual “NO”. I guess my mom knew me very well and knew that I was not really joking. She thought about this and a couple of days later said “ninge jeevanadalli yenadru achive maadbeku antha idre… why don’t you study further… do you masters or MBA or whatever.. nangintha chennagi ninge gothu adar bagge.” I was confused as to why she said that. When asked she said “himalayakke bike alli hogo badlu mundakke vodi achieve maad bahudalla” is what is said. That was it. My mom helped me decide then and there, in an instant that I was going to the Himalayas on a bullet, COME WHAT MAY!. Thanks mom. I never believed that scores and studies are a true measure of a person. I have always hated the system and the people who give importance to marks and studies. I have hated almost ALL of my teachers. I guess I am a rebel. Don’t know. Don’t care. My idea of life has always been to push myself, to do something that is not ordinary. To go against all those people who make opinions about me based on my marks. To go against ALL those people who thought that I was good for nothing. I thought that riding on the Himalayas could give me the satisfaction of going one-up against all those people. I thought that conquering the Himalayas would put me on a completely different league when compared to all those morons who scored well and were considered a genius by most uncles and aunties.