Evening, Day 1
We had to get out. Don't know where, don't know how, but soon. The only hassle was there weren't any bikes. We had already tried twice the same week, but some Manipuri gang had booked all the Enfields. But thank our stars, today was it. The guys managed an Enfield, and we already had a CBZ. It looked weak and rusty, thanks to the horrible stretches of road between Guwahati and Silchar. Amidst a heap of cons, the only reason we took it along is because we had no other choice and if it could make it back from Silchar, our trip would be a child's play.
But you see, I wouldn't be writing this if it turned out just that way..
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| Bon Voyage! |
It goes like this... you can sail effortlessly at 40 just on the first gear, and I'm not even talking about the pickup. When you push that throttle, the bike throws forward jerks like it may just take off any instant. Aah.. I'm so bad at putting this down in words, you better see it yourself.
By 7 we were past city limits and were looking forward to reach Shillong by 9.30 max. Then 20 mins behind Umiam Lake, the CBZ died. It just slowed down, rolled over and died! In the middle of nowhere, in pitch-black darkness and no signs of any repair shop nearby. By the way, for those out on bike trips in North-East, remember that you won't find bike repair shops on the roadside. There'll be truck repair shops galore, but just none that see bikes. Vishal and Naren went around to find help, while I and Ravindra helped ourselves to some drags.
4 guys. 1 bike that runs, and 1 bike that needs to be carried. And, it was 9 already..
Everyone took out their towels, made knots, tied one end behind the Thunderbird, and the other in front of CBZ. And for the next three hours, the beast carrying me and Vishal, pulled the CBZ with Naren and Ravi up the hill slopes. It was a ride to remember. The towels broke 2-3 times in between, each time the rope getting shorter and the job tougher. It had struck just 12 when we silently rode into the sleeping town of Shillong. A few Army men patrolling the streets chuckled past as the Enfield's thump sounds broke the eerie silence of the night. I was imagining the sight they must be beholding. We felt like brave heroes finally making it back into civilisation.
The night wasn't over yet. It was past 12 and all the hotels had closed. The few that were open were houseful. We parked both the bikes in a supermarket's parking lot, and found a small marble-laid extension outside what looked like a hotel. It was so chilly, the four huddled up together, covered ourselves with jackets and forced ourselves to sleep.
Day 2
My nap broke when somebody opened the shutter from inside. They were opening up, and it was time for us to leave. Out on the street, with each passing moment, all that misery and cold started draining out. The cold mountain air, the first sunbeams in your eyes, the tea so good... it was like a reward for enduring last night.
Funny, this feeling lasted just until breakfast. The repair shops were to open at 9, so I and Ravi took out the beast for a run. Since last evening when I first saw it, I just wanted to get my hands on that throttle. Ravi's turn first.. we set out exploring the hill town. We took whichever turn we felt like, and owned those streets like a boss. It was like riding atop a roaring lion. The sound just scares the shit out of those still crossing the road. On the way back when I got to ride, there came this big stretch near the Commandment area, and there was a lot of small traffic and people buzzing around. I put down a gear and Ravi said "kya kar raha hai? tu chalte reh, hat jayenge.."
Whatta idea.. I held the clutch, maxxed the throttle and blew the Bullet horn! Oh man, I'll never forget that sight.. as the sound waves passed the stretch ahead, all the small yellow Maruti cabs just came onto the left in a line and the road became crystal clear. The people had also stopped by the lanes. Two gears up, we flew by like light! After admiring and taking in the 'beauty' of Shillong and it's people we took the CBZ to a mechanic. We ended up spending some 1500 odd bucks, but the bike wasn't really back to its prime. Something seemed wrong riding it. The engine used to stop if the throttle wasn't on the higher pulse. So whenever you get a downward slope, if you let down the throttle, the engine goes off.
This was a tough nut to crack, and then came along a bigger jolt. Mysteriously, the rear brake of Enfield malfunctioned. I repeat, the rear brake! Maybe the story would get complete if we crashed down some cliff. The day was going from bad to worse, so we decided to give it one last time. After you exit Shillong on the IAF road, you get the steepest slope in the city. And the slope's quite a stretch, thus a good testing ground. Narendra and Vishal, the pioneers went first and both couldn't tame the bitch. I made a meek effort too, but when you come back down such a slope, it's hard to hold the clutch and keep braking, but what takes bigger guts is to hold the throttle on the upper. Finally, Ravi went with it. After some time, he comes back and says "Yaar chacha chal sakti hai.."
We couldn't even understand how he can think of taking this on the ride ahead, but then he showed us and he could get the bike to not stop. Plus, he was the lightest of us, so the engine had it easier.
Now the other problem. Three people were to ride an Enfield 500 whose rear/main brake wasn't working. We rode for a few miles out, when the CBZ started coughing again. We turned back. The previous night was crazy enough, and we didn't want a sequel. Back in Shillong, there was a shed near the Commandment area that Vishal vaguely remembered. The place was called Jhalupara, supposed to be the first of settlements in the town. Now, it had just become a basti. Police Bazaar shuts down by 9, buy this place remains abuzz till midnight. And this is where we met Sumon da. He was our saviour angel in that time of crisis. Short but peppy, he worked with an uncommon diligence. He kept popping in a cigarette one after another, and in just half an hour, he had breathed some life into our CBZ. Surely, the earlier mechanic had fooled us for Sumon da just charged 60 bucks, and then treated us all to some chai and chowmein. Whatta guy! The more we talked, the more awed he left us. He had a self-customized RX 100, which carried an extra 5th gear and raced alongside the likes of KTMs and Karizmas.
There's a pretty active racing circuit in the town outskirts. Every month or so, racing championships are held along the Shillong-Mawlynnong and Cherrapunji stretches. These bikers are hugely respected even in the town. Apparently, a recognized racer carries a license which permits him to ride above the speed limits within the town, and still doesn't get objected by the police. Sounds too good to be true, isn't it?
Then came the verdict. Sumon da said it is totally futile going on to Mawlynnong. He said, the CBZ can't ride slopes and carry weight simultaneously, for the injection valve burns itself out on account of the roasted engine. Plus, there wasn;t anything we can do about the rear brake on the 500. There! All that pain and hope was for nothing. Dejected, we bought ourselves drinks and retired for the night. Off to Guwahati next morning. Let's as well party tonight atleast..
Day 3
Everyone was up by 6. Hung over, but absolutely glum. And then someone said it, don't remember who but I remember the words, "Chale kya?" Oh! Everybody was waiting someone would say this..all the heads nodded in one go, chalte hai!
Ravi took on the CBZ, and we the rest of us saddled onto the Enfield. We tested 'em again for half an hour on the IAF slopes and Ravi waved the green flag. There was no looking back. We had the whole day ahead, and too much spirit in the head. We stopped at times in between. This is what we had come so far for, right? Every man needs his solitude. Lush green hills playing peekaboo through wafting clouds, the cold misty breeze... one can't write beyond this to capture that.
After we took the left towards Mawlynnong, Naren set the tarmac ablaze. He didn't give a damn whether the road climbed up or down, turned left or right.. he kept on cruising in the 90s. Vishal kept pegging him on. So, I quit worrying, stopped watching the road, put on my earphones and took the backseat view. In that moment of bliss, a hump must have appeared on the road. For that second when I was in the air, I just told myself to land on my back and hope the bag might just save your head. And then I landed on the back rest and stretched my arms for dear life. I grabbed onto Vishal and chanted awhile in gratitude.
Finally, it arrived. A sign pointing right: Mawlynnong 17. We were riding through a proper jungle. Steep nasty curves. We were climbing up a slope at a decent speed and just where it went down, there was a Maruti ahead and a Swift Dzire just in front stopped in their tracks. If we had collided head on, Bullet ka toh kuch nai jata, par Dzire ki plastic dicky andar ghus jaati.. Chacha turned the handle, the rear slipped and the beast went down. And took down both Chacha and Gawade under it. Both of 'em raised their hands outwards and relaxed their bodies. Freaked out, I quickly got back up, opened the side stand on the other side. The Maruti's driver rushed to our aid, then we together lifted the body and just let it go onto the other side upon the stand. Well, nobody was seriously hurt thankfully but the rider's right footstand was now broken. The rear brake didn't work anyway, so it wasn't again much of a trouble to get a resthold.
On reaching, we parked the bikes and headed straight down to the stream. We badly wanted a good bath!
Root bridges. This is what Mawlynnong is famous for, apart from being titled Asia's Cleanest Village. The young roots from trees of opposite banks are tied together, and over generations, these roots become stronger, bigger and make a big, sturdy bridge.. amazing !
It was evening by the time we set out back for Shillong. We had to reach before the shops along the road closed, in case of any bike failures. When we thought all was over, the CBZ ran out of fuel at the main junction. Just an hour back, we had seen a short flexible pipe lying in the village. We had taken it lest we needed it. Thank our stars! We pumped out petrol from the Enfield to the CBZ. All the way, I felt even the chai had a a petrol flavour..
I'll never forget that ride in the night. It was so beautiful yet so scary. The CBZ's headlight seemed like a zero-watt bulb. So we let Ravi ride ahead, but close enough to be in our Bumper light's range. The Thunderbird 500's got three modes of the headlight alone. We kept reminding Chacha to blow the horn for Ravi whenever we saw lights behind the mountain curves. It was so dark that we had to watch how the road edges turn to know which way it's gonna curve. Finding the edges was tougher.. it was somewhere between the hues of gray and green. I was sitting in the rear. After some time, I realised there are two pairs of eyes already watching the road, so instead of rushing my blood watching ahead, I shifted my focus on the sky above and the music in my ears. I could not recall seeing as many stars in the sky as I saw that night. Back in Guwahati, the dusty clouds cover 'em all up.
We rode into Shillong around 9pm. Safe and sound. The journey had almost come to an end. Suman was anxiously waiting at the shop, long after it closed. We put away the beasts and retired to our quarters. Sumon and Vishal went out, got some food and then everybody sat back, relaxed and blew off all steam. Everyone slept like a baby that night. Inspite of everything, we finished what we started !
Nice one Dude!
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