Why does one travel?
Why does one leave Bangalore in the middle of the night, armed with nothing more than a solitary jacket and a pair of gloves - and that too in late November?
Why does one determine to travel anywhere between 900 to 1300 kilometers? On a bike that is notoriously fickle at the best of times, with a companion who might at best be described as mildly eccentric? Not that self is un-eccentric, of course.
Why does one wake up caretakers at half-built lodges at 4 in the morning? Why are televisions bolted to TV stands in lodges in Karnataka?
Why indeed, do goats around Kolhapur prefer travel by bike? Why do bus drivers in Maharashtra ignore speed-breakers? Why are there no buses between Jalgaon and Pune in the afternoon?
Why do buses break down for no apparent reason? Why are guardian angels daredevils?
Why did we do what we did?
Why does one travel?Because there is nothing as enjoyable as the wind on your face on the open road. Because overtaking and being overtaken is liable to make you attain nirvana. Because watching the undulating landscape around you change mile by mile, minute by minute, is certain to make you attain nirvana.
Because, at four in the morning, when you shiver uncontrollably from the bitter cold, and sip your third glass of chai in a doomed attempt to warm up your innards, and look at each other and laugh. And laugh.
You travel to look at each other at four in the morning and laugh.
That's why you travel.
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1 comment:
damn you, ashish :)
the prose is as nice as the pictures are self-explanatory.
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