In Which A Whole New Definition Of Cold Is Found

Darkness all around.

The Bullet's headlamp throws a gloomy half focused beam of light on the road ahead, and kind and considerate truckers on the other side of the road come to the party with the dipper on full. Small settlements pass by in rapid succession, as the NH4 snakes it's way through Karnataka. The road is smooth, wide and with a divider in between. Up above in the sky, stars twinkle merrily.

And on the bike, Kulkarni and Tamhane shiver. Hesitatingly at first, short sharp bursts of shivering. A little judder in the knees to start with, a slight rumble in the tummy, and then a spasmodic jerk of the shoulders. Brrr.

Process repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

And then the teeth start to chatter. A sharp intake of breath and the body tries to to huddle in. And the teeth chatter. The wind rips through the pitiful clothing, through the helmet, under the visor, until the eyes start to tear up. And the teeth chatter. The hands tremble, the fingers, in spite of the gloves, are locked firmly in their own private mortis on the handlebars, and the teeth chatter.

I've been on the bike in colder weather, but not at two in the morning, and never on a 900 kilometer trip. The kilometers ate themselves up, and the bike roared on through one hamlet after the other, but the cold was getting to be unbearable. Brrr.

And we eventually reached Chitradurga, a town that is about 250 kilometers from Bangalore, give or take a few. The plan was to travel through until Rane Bennur, and sleep at the Reliance petrol pump over there. But at Chitradurga, mind and body gave up, and we decided to stop for a cup of chai or two.

As soon as I get off the bike, I realise that I can't walk steadily. The knees are a' knockin'. Rather uncontrollably. We stumble our way across to the shop, and gratefully step into the comparative warmth, the shop being shielded from the wind. Make our way to the ramshackle benches, sit down gratefully and look at each other.

And in the middle of the night, 250 kilometers from Bangalore and 650 kilometers from Pune, in a little tea shop at Chitradurga, we look at each other and laugh. Because.

Two cups of tea and some biscuits later, we're still laughing. Still because.

And then we ask the friendly owner to tell us how long it will take to get to Rane Bennur.

"Rane Bennur ahhhh," the man starts," Rane Bennur na.... ummmm.... hmmmm... 50 kilometers aaa"

That ain't so bad, we think, glancing at each other... another hour, and we should be asleep.

"No, no, no, no... aaaa.... 60 kilometers...aa" the man continues, barely getting into his stride.

That... well, at a stretch, one can think of 60 kilometers. Not easy, but we can do it... at least, we think so.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry... it is na.... it is... ummm 70 kilometers...aaa", says the human horror story, happily at full tilt now.

Out of the question. We look at each other, give Gallic shrugs, and turn to leave.

Despondent at this turn of events, we hear a plaintive voice behind us as we leave the shop:" Saar... saar... it is actually 80 kilometers... 85...?"

Turns out it's around 75 kilometers away, but we didn't give a flying f. at that point of time. Kulkarni and Tamhane were going to hunt down a room and a bed in Chitradurga, and be damned otherwise.

And so we sallied forth into town, to find that town had locked itself up a long long time ago. Every door was shut, every window was fastened, and it didn't look like we'd find anything open.

Until we chanced upon a newly built wall that stood in front of a newly built lodge. A pale yellow light at the gate allowed us to take in the fresh paint, the new construction and the garland around the gate.

"Hah!" said one.

"Ho!", said the other.

And we fell upon the agte and knocked at it in manner that would have made Attila proud. About five minutes later, just as we were about to abandon the din, a head popped out on the second floor, adorned with a rather fetching monkey cap.

"Yes?", enquired monkey cap head.

"We want a room bhaisaab" I yelled at him.

Monkey head paused, and pondered.

"But the lodge is not open", it feebly protested.

Tamhane kindly pointed out that the festooned garland indicated that it was.

Monkey head vehemently refused. Said that it was merely laid out in preparation. The thing would open tomorrow. And any which way, the rooms were not ready.

Which of course, deterred us not one bit. That's all right, we assured him. We'll sleep in any room.

No, no said monkey head. How could that be? Only the room in which I'm sleeping is done.

OK fine, we said. We'll sleep with you.

Long pause.

"No..." quavered monkey head, taking in a last lingering look at the apparitions outside. He retired into his room, locked the door, and for all we know, spent the remainder of night in devout prayer.

We finally found a room, anyhow, one with a television bolted to the table (for reasons still unclear), at around four in the morning.

Slept gratefully for four hours, and resumed our journey on the morrow.
About which more shall soon follow.