Hash Run #412

Run # 412 – Bangalore Hash House Harriers

This was my (let me try and recollect without referring to the archives of this blog) fourth run with Hash. As usual it was a Sunday afternoon run, as usual it was on the outskirts of city, away from all the humdrum (bumrum, sounds better). But while the last run, the moonlight run was one with max participation - 150, this time around, there was a measly 20.

The run site was about 10kms from KR puram, down old madras road, at the IB estate. I went bulleting to the run site. My friend from my cricketing (SjCC) days, Bharath, aka lodde, BeeKay also joined me this time. If you had followed that hyperlink you would have seen this guy does PicHiD (when he not running marathons) in Singapura.

This time surprisingly the run started on time – 4:45. It was a short run, about 7-8kms in the countryside. But the hares – camel rider, hole surveyor and Deepak had made sure there are enough false trails to keep us interested. Lots of check backs (circle with a cross) chalk marks on the trail ensured that I went on false trails thrice.

We got back to the estate in about 50mins time. There were a couple of guys who got colourful bruises. I spotted a snake wriggling into the bushes during the run. Wildlife and all, eh…
There were samosas to go round with the beer. The hares got to cool their asses on the ice block.
There were a few returners. There was this one gentleman, ‘Hard-on’ who was from Ireland, who has been hashing from, as early as, 1978!! I had a nice conversation going with him. He was running with Bangalore Hash after, like 6years. He was telling me about how Hash started in the late 1930’s, in Europe somewhere. During World War II, Hash lost many of its members to war, and those who survived were posted to different parts of the world. And that is how it started to spread across the world. In Malaysia, there is a hash run everyday!
Well, anyway, Hard-on got his ass on the ice too. There were 4 virgins, including BeeKay. Surprisingly, there was common interest area among BK and the Grand Master (the guy who runs the circle). Both of them were into Robotics – BK into underwater robots research and this MIT grad, an entrepreneur, running a firm that makes robots in India.
It was a nice short run, just the right way to spend the Sunday evening. Parag and Deepu joined us for a heavy dinner at the Neel later in the night.

coming up - ride to Subramanya and the trek up Kumara Parvata (KP)

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Ripped off from unknown source. Reproduced verbatim, hopefully there is no copyright violation ;) You can however, express your opinions on plagiarism in the comment section, but please dont copy someone else's comments while you do that!
Enjoi the article maadi...
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Author unknown
Ride Far and Live Long
How many times has some do-gooder warned you against your motorcycle in the interest of your health? Do you politely stand there while a well-intentioned Samaritan regales, you with horror stories of a relative of a friend of a friend who went down two days after he bought his bike?
I used to dryly inform such self-appointed nice guys that, since most people die in their own beds, to avoid that horrible fate, it would be best to start sleeping on the floor. Now I no longer go head to head with sufferers of moto-phobia. I just tell them now that biking is conducive to a long, healthy and happy life. Here's how this came about:
During my recent trip to India I came across a new motorcycle magazine called BIKE India which, surprisingly, boasts some really well-researched articles by some top internationally-recognized and local writers. It seems that the family of Adil Jal Darukhanawala, the Editor of BIKE India, still owns the oldest continuously-run motorcycle dealership in the world(!), which today sells Indian-built Yamahas (called TVS Yamaha) in the university town of Pune, Maharashtra State. Adil is one of the most pro-moto two-wheel visionaries you'll ever meet.Anyway, the January '06 issue of BIKE India carries a tightly-researched article entitled "One More Reason to Bike: It's Good For Your Health!"

This article has the hard facts on things that you and I always suspected to be true but had, until now, had no way of proving. The bit of scientific investigation came about when the good folks at Motorcycle Consumer News set out to find Britain's oldest biker. To the delight of the MCN research team, they found that every single aging rider they talked to credited motorcycling as his or her key to longevity and health.
Forging ahead, MCN enlisted the help of students of King's College of London University Hospital to research why those older riders love motorcycling so much. Here's what they found: The Brain: Biking is joyous and is therefore is a natural an anti-depressant. The brain responds to the thrilling sensations of balance combined with forward motion by producing endorphins that prevent depression. Since depression leads to illness, biking is an antidote to disease through prevention of melancholia.
The Lungs: Buses, trains and especially airplanes are confining metal tubes in which passengers are forced to breathe virus-saturated second hand air making for an unsafe travel environment. Bikes on the other hand put you in the wind, a known purifier that is conducive to health by sending fresh oxygen throughout the lungs.
The Heart: The next time a self-styled saint tries to get you safely buckled into some overbuilt SUV, ask him what he thinks the effect of traffic jams and road rage have on the heart. Highway-related anxiety causes a release in hormones that actually increase blood pressure, leading to dangerous levels of stress. Gridlock causes tension, but lane splitting brings on euphoria. Bye by cars, bye by heart disease.
Circulation: The frequent changes in bodily temperature experienced by motorcyclists stimulate blood circulation, which protects against circulatory problems such as varicose veins and hardening of the arteries. Sitting in some cushy "luxury" car all day in rush hour commute is an excellent way to shut down circulation in the extremities, a known cause of blood clots. Remember that ambulances and hearses are also highly-equipped luxury vehicles.
The Back: Yup, the leaning, turning and twisting that a biker does is downright good exercise that keeps the spine limber. Padded car seats on the other hand are terrible for the back.
Burning of Fat: The excitement of the ride, which puts the senses on high alert, actually burns calories. The more extreme the ride, the better the results will be (as long as the motorcyclist rides within his limits!) OK, some riders like me are overweight, but, hey, if it weren't for my bike, I probably wouldn't pass the Greyhound bus driver's minimal fitness exam!
Leg Muscles: The study concluded that jockeying a hefty motorcycle into a narrow parking spot is the equivalent of a five minute work out on a rowing machine.
Not satisfied with the results of their research, the intrepid MCN team went on to explore the mammoth British Medical Library. There they discovered a pro-moto university thesis entitled "Motorcycle and Adolescents" by French rider and now psychiatrist JP Rabeau. Regarding young riders, this is how the good doctor of the mind wrapped up his research, "Their bikes' physical nature is often beneficial, rather than a dangerous expression of an unconscious death wishes in the Freudian sense."
Remember all those tidbits of wisdom that your mother used to tirelessly nag you with? "Do's" like "eat your veggies" or "take your vitamins" or "wash your hands"? Now you can confidentially add to Mom's list
When you tell your own kids, "...and DON'T FORGET TO RIDE YOUR MOTORCYCLE AT LEAST ONE HOUR DAILY! IT'S GOOD FOR YOU!"

Kokkre Bellur, Masina Gudi, Jungle Retreat, Ooty

Places visited: Kokkre Bellur, Masina Gudi, Jungle Retreat, Ooty
Distance covered: 650kms
Date: 15-16th April

Highlights: In a lot of ways this ride was an overdose of nature for me.
First, at Kokkre Bellur you have pelicans and storks that fly 1000s of miles, all the way from Russia, Siberia to spend these few months at this one small village, year-after-year.
Second, the forest of Bandipur, Madumalai Hills – thick foliage in the valleys, the hills standing tall and bald, deer, monkeys, peacocks and good possibility of a leopard, python, bison or a tusker crossing your path.
Third, Nature’s way of saying, “hey, can I join you for the ride?” “How about I send some rain with you on your way back?” The downpour all the way down to Bangalore.

Flagging off: It was a combo ride time at Rolling Thunder Motorcycles Club – RTMC. There were two groups on this ride – both leaving together to Kokkre Bellur in Mandya. The first group riding back to Bangalore and a second group continuing to Masanagudi for an overnighter. In all about 20 guys on 14 bullets, the smallest RTMC participation I’ve seen. We left at around 8am almost an hour after the scheduled departure. Breakfast was at Kaadu Mane before Bidadi, one plain and one masala for me. It helped having a good breakfast, considering lunch happened only at 3 or so.

Kokkre Bellur is a village that is painted white with the pelicans and storks (literally with their droppings) that migrate here. Huge birds, wide wingspan, and in many hues come here during the mating season, hatch their eggs and nurture young ones till they fly back with them.
The birds seemed so much at home there. Even the blaring loud speakers (some festival celebration was on) and all the latest Kannada songs that were playing didn’t seem to disturb them. I can understand if it was Radio City, but latest kannada songs. Maybe it helps coming from a phoren country and not knowing the local language. Or maybe it was to do with the breeding season; you cannot disturb no one during the breedings.

Good write up on Kokkre Bellur here - http://www.nationalgeographic.co.in/explore/otbt/kokkare_bellur.asp.

There is a rivulet that runs outside the village. We did a bit of off-roading, riding along the rivulet till our bullets could go no more. ‘Tiger’ struck a good deal for some nectar-like tender coconuts, 100 bucks for 20. It was tiger’s birthday, the ‘Happy birthday’ song and bums followed. It was 2ish by the time we left the group to head for Masinagudi, 8 of us on seven bullets.

The Sweep: It was decided that I sweep the line (the guy who rides last, ensuring everyone’s ahead). Girish was running in his bike and was doing a max of 70-80kmph. Initially, I didn’t know this guy was running-in, I thought he was a compulsive slow coach. It’s so damn frustrating – you have a sooper bike, nice empty roads, fellow bikers ripping, but you can’t open throttle. I tried a few things to pep this guy to turn that accelerator, ride right up his ass, wroom-wroom there, overtake him then let him pass, etc. But Girish did not give in. I even felt tempted to ride alongside and do the turning accelerator for him myself.
I don’t know if that is the case sometimes in life with a few of us. There are people around you who want to do everything to push you on the fast track. But, somehow, maybe we don’t see it at all. Now, put on the ‘sweep-hat’ for a moment, and imagine how frustrated your mentor/guardian angel would feel. But then, its also important if you are the mentor, to see behind the facade and find the real reason. In this case, he was actually sacrificing short term urge to rip, for something more enduring.
Lunch: After all that food-for-thought my body went off balance and I had to soon provide some food-for-tummy. We were hungry like mad by the time we reached the outer out-skirts of Mysore. We stopped at some small udipi restaurant and polished off some tasty parotas, meals and chapattis.
The forests: More wildlife from there on. We crossed Bandipur, Teppakadu and Madumalai. There were lots of monkeys and deer. I enjoyed this stretch most, going real slow, taking in as much as I could. We reached Masinagudi at 6:30.

Jungle resort: Jungle retreat is a superb resort. Almost from any point in the resort the view of the hills is breathtaking. When nature has done her bit of art, Rohan Mathais and team have matched it with a good resort, making max use of the view – with cottages, tree house, pool (both kinds – the swimming kind and the kind that features in most porn movies) tasty food and beverages. The long weekend had drawn quite a crowd, at times I felt as if we were dining at some restaurant at koramangala.

PP had booked a 10-bed dorm for us. After the sumptuous dinner and a few rounds on the pool table, hit the bed at mid-night. Ads and Grease joined us in the morning having left Bangalore at midnight.
There are a few things you can do, apart from chilling out at Jungle Retreat. You could trek into the forest, do a safari ride to say hi to a few tuskers. You got to do this early in the morning, though, for some reason. Maybe the tuskers are not courteous later in the day. So we ruled that out. Instead we decided to ride up to ooty on the Kalhatti ghats. The view is supposed to make up for the difficult to ride and the very steep hair pins. The view must have been good, didn’t have too mucha time to look around.

Heavens Open: There were dark clouds brewing up and we were riding straight into it. And from there on it was simply a rainy tale. The rain that started as we reached the top of the ghats never let go till Bangalore. Huge droplets (I figured that was because at 2000mts above sea level you are far more closer to the clouds) and hail stones. When we left downhill, there was gushing muddy water and stones on the road and it looked like all of ooty was rushing downhill. Somewhere near Bandipur and Gundelpet, the rain actually stopped and we were dry briefly. But it caught up with us again. I had to get back to Bangalore early to attend two wedding receptions – Deepak’s ann Akshay’s. I left the group at Nanjangud, continued without lunch, caught up with Trishul and tiger after Mysore. I was at Kengeri by 6:15 and home by 7. My leather jacket weighed some 10kilos by the time I got out of it. One helluva ride it was!

Moonlight Half Marathon at Bangalore Hash

Run # 411, was to celebrate 16 years of BANGALORE HASH. A Moonlight Half Marathon followed by a Big Bash happened on Saturday, 8th April.

ONCE IN A BLUE MOON....
LET YOUR WILD SIDE ....
ROAM THE COUNTRYSIDE ..
UNDER THE FULL MOON !

The agenda: A clear star studded, summer night sky, and the countryside bathed in moonlight. And hashers walking / running amidst the country roads...with the cool summer breeze in their faces...far away from pollution and the humdrum of the city!
Run back to a bonfire, music by hash deejay, hash brew from Kingfisher and dinner.
While away the night in the company of your dear one or comrades from the hash....rock to retro music....spend the nite amidst nature's glory!

The run site was WRAC, an exotic resort some 10kms from IIMB, off Bannerghatta road. There were tracks for half marathon and for half-half marathoners. I reached the run site when there was daylight and didn’t have problems locating the place. This time around “Runners for Life” were also invited. I saw a few familiar faces from the previous marathons and lots of new faces. There were 16 of us who started for the half marathon, at around 7:15. The moon was hazy and we knew why we were asked to carry those torches.
The track was one that required endurance more than stamina, a mix of tarmac and cross country, soft earth to gravel to hard tarmac. The uneven earth meant that there was high risk of injury on this run, so the pace had to be slow. You could say that again for ligament torn runners (read – me).We had to run down 5kms to the water spot and then take another route back to the resort. Then do the second lap.
I was doing good on the time till I lost my way on the run back, overshot some 2 kms before, I turned back, which painfully added to the time and fatigue. When I got back, deliberating if it was worth completing the run, a whole lot of half-half marathoners had just begun their run. I guess there were some 50 hashers in this run. I joined Ashwin (friend from my CAT prep days who I met there after 3yrs) and Siddarth (mustached guy with a ponytail) through out the second lap.

I finished 3 hours and four bottles of water later (dunno why, but the water just kept flowing down). By the time I got back the party had started, beer was doing rounds. The ice-block ceremony happened, certificates were distributed, half marathoners were given the ice treatment. Then the dance floor came alive with curvaceous creatures. After a half marathon, with every muscle in the legs crying for rest, its amazing how ‘the forces’ still pull you into the dance floor.

I had no plans of staying overnight nor participate in the recovery run in the morning. With Sathish and Rutu following in their car, I left the place at 1am. There is a long, winding dirt path till the main road. I overtook a couple of cars to avoid the dust and was ahead of the pack. And suddenly there was this traffic in the opposite direction – four jeeps. As I passed the fourth one, I noticed the POLICE sign.
And that is when the drama began to unfold…
Sound – I cut throttle and waited in silence
Lights – on the moonlit night, in waited for the headlights in the rear view mirror to move
Action – scraped out of not-so-desirable action

The cops intercepted the cars, a couple of cars were let off, and the rest were made to accompany a constable to the Bannerghatta police station for a statement. The cops, meanwhile proceeded to WARC to ensure that there was no live dance band playing. The party had to stop, thanks to the uninvited guests, the beer seized (now, u know where those pot-bellies come from!) and everyone made to leave autographs at mama’s place. The cops were supposedly tipped off that there was a live band playing somewhere and they had planned a massive raid headed by a DCP. After high drama, visit to the station, and autographs hashers left for their homes by 3am. For the first time, HASH ‘ran’ into cop trouble.
I only had a second hand version of what happened. It reinforced what I have been saying all along “Everyone makes way for a Bullet”, on that night… cops included!!!

Ps: There are other things to worry about in life apart from the beer, but if you are still thinking about it, how about we raid the station this Saturday??

Drink and Drive

Manipal Murudeshwar

5
Raghu (‘keet) has been a part of my life now, since my engineering days, easily my best pal. Raghu and I decided to ride down to Manipal to attend Raaji’s convocation at TAPMI. Raaji, my junior at Hassan, also a close friend.

I was like this director guy, Manoj Butter, who was shooting for this fillum “Ragu and Raji”, where this heroine sings “I knew ki meraa shezaadaa, Ghode pe aayega” (any resemblance in tune, to the Neal and Niki song is purely coincidental). Only for this song sequence, I rode on a Bull and Raghu rode a Ghoda (I thought the avenger fitted the horse description well). And we had to rescue this heroine from the clutches of this villain who keeps saying “TAP MI” “TAP ME” in the Mogambo-Kush-Hua style. “Raghu and Raaji” - Coming Soon at the multiplex near you. Not bad na.

Now, the more serious stuff...
I wish I could describe this ride in words. Seldom on a ride, do you look back, look forward, look beyond and look deep into yourself.
Raghu and I rode down the memory lane, reliving the wonderful times at Hassan.
For Raghu and Raji, it is a time to look forward, in more ways than one.
The picturesque landscapes, the estates, the western ghats, the temples makes one commune with one’s future.
The endless depth of the ocean, the white sands and music is truly transcendental, making you retreat into your own soul.

Little did we know when we started, that this ride would be so fulfilling. The excitement was building up throughout the week. It was the first real long ride for Keet, and for me it was a solo after a long time.



We left my place at 530 on the Saturday morning. The first stop was at Bellur Cross, we did good enough to give a few cars on road some complex. One chai and we were off again. This time, thou, the story was a little different. We ripped. The average speed on this stretch to Hassan must have been 90kmph or so. We reached Hassan at 8 something. Breakfast happened at the MCE canteen. “Open Dosa” and “Benne Kaali” still cost 10 bucks; insulated from inflation!! And it tastes just as good. We exchanged some recognizing smiles with the canteen guys.

We left Hassan at 930, passing Sakleshpur we headed towards the western ghats. The Ghat section spans to about 50kms, I guess. The view from a few places is awesome. It was downhill most of the time. It is amazing how you can settle down to a regular pattern after a while of riding down – see the hairpin sign; stay on the far end of the road-turn left-let the bike fall to the right-hit the back and front brakes as you reach the end of the hairpin-tilt the bike to the left-release brakes-open throttle and off you go.

I scraped my foot rest and my stand a couple of times during the ordeal. We stopped over at Gundya to give our butts a break. From Gundya, we rode without a break to Manipal. After 7 hours on road, 8.5 hours in all, we had reached Manipal. There was no trace of fatigue on Raghu, completely lost trying to figure out why. Guys, in case you have the ideas, please leave the comments.
We booked into Udupi Residency and later in the evening attended the 20th convocation of TAPMI’s graduating students. Raaji was on the top of the world, and looked great in the red saari, with the gown and all.

Early Sunday morning, we visited the temples at Udupi, then some of my relatives. The plan was to go to Turtle Bay at Maravante, some 40kms from Udupi. We reached there late, lunched late. Keet and I figured, there wasn’t much two guys could do in such romantic settings. We did some unromantic things like snooze on our bikes, take pictures that can make to an art exhibition, and scare turtles (I had plans, but I guess, they heard the bikes and ran, don’t ask me how)

We decided to camp at Manipal for the night. Raaji had, by then joined us and suggested Murudeshawar. Whatever other plans Keet had, were subdued by the majority.

We reached Murudeshwar at sunset and were so glad we made it to that place. One, the route itself was fabulous, with pristine scenery. There is this stretch of 2 kms, where you have the Arabian Sea on one side and the river Sowparnika on the other. Two, the statue of Lord Shiva – Murudeshwar. Awe inspiring, imposing statue of the Lord is, I read, the largest statue of Shiva in India. The smile on the face and He overlooks the white-sands on the beach is what draws you to it. Thanks to Raaji, for having insisted we visit the place.

The return journey was very eventful. It was 6:40 when we left there. We had to cover 120kms, I guess before 9. We raced the first lap of the ride till Bhatkal, so long as there was daylight. The stretch from Bhatkal to Katpaadi, was my first night riding experience. There were no street lights, my high beam was not working, there were many villages doting the roads and Raghu right behind flashing his highbeam, creating long shadows in front. If it sounds like good ingredients for an accident, you guessed right. I killed a puppy (Keet tells me later it was half dead). I felt terrible, but had no choice, it was running fast and there was too little time to do anything. We were very careful throughout that part of the ride. It requires full concentration. You are very impaired, not able to see clearly in front. For me it also meant that had to put up my visor and brave the dust and the wind in my face. We did well in the end and saw off Raaji’s parents at 9.

Dinner happened at Dollops in Manipal and crashed for the night.
The return journey was great too. We started from Manipal at 645 and reached Bangalore by 5 in the evening. The ascent up the ghat section was more enjoyable that the descent had been. Once you get the line right, and time the change of gears, it is simply sooper, I say. Both bikes responded well to bear the torture, Hassan happened before schedule, by 1130.

We reached our campus once again. This time we parked in front of the hostel. I was disappointed in a sense, there was NO change at all. A place can’t be so insulted from change. It was the same mess workers, same blocks, same trees, same rooms, the same pan-spit walls. We had lunch at the mess and were not surprised. The taste of the curry, the chapattis has not changed too. Very nostalgic, indeed. The unbelievable fun we had in this place.

The ride from Hassan was boring – we missed the ghats and traffic badly. That is the problem if you have every good roads with no traffic. How long can you belt at 100 and not feel bored. It ensured, however, that we were back to base by 500.
No human casualties, no bike breakdowns, but plenty of memories – that was in a nutshell, my ride to Mangalore.

Raghu made this collage. You should check him out at his blog


More of these at http://www.flickr.com/photos/manojbhat/sets/72057594094912087/

Of Biryani, Bullets, Brakes and Yelagiri

Yelagiri – Many first ones on this one

My first ride after I joined Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club. (was in the announce group till this one)
My first ride with the rider’s paraphernalia – leather jacket, sunglasses, RTMC flag, et al.
First time my bullet touches 120kmph on the speedo.
My first ghat section ride, and my first major accident. Read on…

The build up to the ride was something I have come to except these days – there is this anxious waiting thorough out the week, the boyish excitement the day before the ride, the last minute checks on the bike. This time was no special.

The motivation for the ride was right at the bottom of the Maslow’s hierarchy – food. Biryani at Vaniyambadi, at the foot of Yelagiri was the reason, no one really cared for the reason, so long as you got to ride.

We were supposed to meet 6:30 in front of Raheja Arcade, Kormangala. When I reached there at 620ish, there were a handful of bulls. Then they started pouring in. There were usual suspects – PP, grease, subbu, pawn, muthu, vivek, mahesh. (That was quite a long list of names I have rolled off, given my track record with remembering names.) And then there are always those large no of new names – trite and forgettable, again.

Anyways, after all the handshakes some 32 bullets thundered the Hosur Road. To my bullet, this was homecoming, I have done this road many times now. I wont repeat the praises I have for this stretch of the Golden Quadrilateral.
Our first regroup point was the A1 Reliance plaza. Reliance has some amazing facilities up here. I believe, the rates, readings, the evaporation level, mix, the rate at which the meter scrolls, etc, etc can be controlled and monitored centrally from some office in, say, Mumbai. But well maintained restrooms hardly make up for not-so-great tiffin, right?

We went past Krishnagiri, Salem and then took the route to Chennai. The road is so good, you can do full throttle for the whole stretch and that we did. I touched 120kmph on my speedo for the first time. One more brief stop on the way and we reached the foot of the Yelagiri hill. The ride uphill was good; there were about 10 hair-pin bends and the view from top was great. There was practically no traffic flowing downhill.

There are a few resorts on top of the hill, and some trekking spots around. The bullets were parked in front of Country Club. Lime soda was served as an appetizer for the biryani. It was about 11:00 by this time. There were folks from Mad Bulls who joined us.

The plan was to ride down to Vaniyambadi at the bottom of Yelagiri and belt biryanis. We started downhill at about 12 something. I was doing good on the turns and I guess I got carried away a wee bit. There were two bulls ahead of me and I was trying to catch up. On one of the left turns, I found myself in the middle lane, gunning straight at a Tata Sumo Victa. I breaked hard and got most of the bike out of the way, but couldn’t avoid the brake lever and the mirror go whack against the mirror and beading, ripping the plastic off. Metal against plastic is not too much of contest.
The sumo full of doctors let me go after I promised to make good the damages. I got away with a bent brake lever but a badly hurt ego and image. I don’t know how long the repair on that would take. But at that moment, everyone wanted to know who this guy was. I thought I did well to hold my nerves, stay on road and prevent what could have been worse. There was lots to lose but lots to gain too. My bull doctor, Gurunandan said this on an earlier chumma on road, “Small accidents are good in a way, they improve your reflexes”. Howzzat that for optimism!!

Muttu also had some problem on his ‘Monster’, with some loose silencer, which was put back in place with some more delay.

So after this another not-so-desirable ‘first-time’, we reached Vaniyambadi for the biryani. A few of my veggie friends and I settled our asses down at a ‘Saravana Bhavan’ nearby. There was this conceited look on the faces of all guys who walked out after the Biryani. They settled for mutton biryani, I heard, there are no chicks no more in Tamil Nadu. I know from my past experience, TN is sure not a good place to look for them chicks; flu or not.

The ride back happened without any more incidents. One flat tyre meant some guys were delayed. I carried on with the front pack and was back in Bangalore long before the sun went down…

Next week, there will be another ride, another ghat section ride, in full gear, only this time, with better reflexes!!!

Addendum:

The fotos are now available at http://www.flickr.com/photos/manojbhat/sets/72057594089357168/
pick you copies now!!!

And guess who provides technology to A1 Plaza... yup, IBM

NIRVANA ON THE PONY TRAIL

Am trying to build up the tempo for the 2 long rides coming up in the next couple of weeks. Doing the 220km stretch to Yelagiri this weekend and then 400kms to Manipal with Raghu-pal the next weekend… While you wait for those, check this one out… Found this in the archives of Auto India. Read on... its well written!
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I slide steel into his belly and nudge him to a drowsy rumble. Astride one score ponies and eight, I point him to the long black ribbon that takes us out to the sea, a long way off. Sleepi1y, almost grudgingly, his staccato beat picks up my spirit— synchronicity. His Cyclops eye splits the night apart — left and right, like Yin and Yang. With a flick of my wrist, I can let them meet, but not yet. I twist his ears and caress his mane, his hooves dig in harder. A 162 Kg machine, 20 Kgs of gas &. oils, two riders at a 130 Kg, 100 Kg of fishing and camping gear — almost half a ton whispering imperturbably down the NH8 in the eerie silence of an early winter morning — some kind of motorcycling! !

Duck you terrible 100c toddlers, the granddaddy of all them Indian motorcycles is here. But let’s face the truth — the Royal Enfield 350 cc “light roadster" as a 1960 Army Manual terms it, is a granddaddy - no contest. In terms of figures — those numbers the techies love, the Bullet is a part of history — somewhere between the Golden Age of the Guptas and the time. I forget when, when the someone the terrible son of what’s his name the invincible else ransacked "Cawnpore" and stole the Royal Cushion of the Pasha, Emir of all he surveyed, leaving him with a terrible ache in the bottom which persisted until his kingdom was declared non—polluting and was given great subsidies in fertilizers.

No contest. In terms of anything to do with performance— measurable in numbers, the Bullet would lose miserably against any other- brand of motorcycle, scooter and moped, the Luna TFR’s headlight has more lumens/watt than the Biq B’s. In acceleration, top speed, braking distance, ro—ro contest from any gear-/any speed, the Bullet stands a good chance of being beaten hollow.

And the Bullet is a marvel of engineering design. Engineering Colleges which charge capitation fees could do away with the idea of building a mechanical engineering laboratory — and buy a single Bullet 350 cc instead. Every mechanical device/linkage known to man since Hannibal crossed the Alps is represented. A bewildering array of gears, cams, shafts, rockers, swing arms, chains, pads, bolt/nuts, washers, spindles, bearings, drives, springs, tensioners, seals and rings assails the senses. The frame and its supports are veritably an Eiffel Tower. And every material except carbon-graphite and buffalo horn is used somewhere or the other. The electricals resemble the sadhu with the matted eight feet locks from Jaipur in the Guiness Book. Wires of every description, length, color with connectors to match. Twenty types of greases and oils, 22 seals, 5 cables, two chains, 9 switch positions and two utility boxes on the side capacious enough to store small change and impress your mom —make up the Bullet. Almost all parts are linked — you fill up air, it affects ignition. You lower the handlebars, it dims your rear lights. Don’t believe it ?, ask any Bullet owner. It is a continuous miracle that a. Bullet rolls at all. Neil Armstrong was asked what were his thoughts on the moon landing flight when the Apollo 11 blasted off. He said “This rocket Assembly contains 500,000 parts and each has been supplied by the lowest bidder." One gets much the same feeling before one slides keys into his belly and heads off on the NH8. Will it, won't it.

As you pick it up from the showroom the 350 is a pathetic sight with a sheet of metal to which is attached a micron or so of metal — this is called the seat. The handlebar grips are spiked rubber. The battery’s white gleams like the sore produced by “the mysterious disease that has struck fish in the 24 Paraganas district in West Bengal leading to immediate pouring in of assistance from International aid agencies”. As an element of sexuality, a black G-string like contraption holds the battery in place. Enfield logos on the side of the gas tank are of tin and look like they are made from discarded Ponds Dreamflower Talc container-s. Two soft drink bottle caps holds the utility boxes closed. On a vehicle built like a Vijayanta Tank, the plastic fuel cock is the Enfield equivalent of Reader’s Digest’s “ Lighter Side of Life”. Pulling it off its centre-stand is a perplexing experience with one hand on the handlebars and the other wondering what to hold. There is no battery cutout, dangerous— remember it won’t start without a battery assist and more than two kicks ensures a type of hernia that's almost hereditary. After YOU install corrective measures like grips, rear view mirror, battery cover, seat padding, side handle, kill switch the bike is ready to go. The next shock is when you sit astride the machine. The brakes and gear are on sides opposite of what is expected. But one gets used to it, like shaving in front of the mirror.

Why a machine that costs Rs. 40,000 + can’t have these little extras costing a couple of hundred Rupees is something that has consistently escaped my most labored efforts to understand, to cope. It seems a complete mystery. Why do the armed Forces, the Forest Departments, the BSF, Police and legions of other buyers swear by the Bullet when the manufacturer doesn’t even bother to install absolute basic equipment like Mirrors. The amount of mechanical uncertainty, the level of maintenance, the initial cost and a manufacturer whose hobby is sadism makes one wonder what prompts the choice of a Bullet.

But I can answer. As one who’s dreamt of owning one since the day I gave up my feeding bottle, I can tell you. Owning a Bullet is not owning a bike — it is participating in a kind of mystic religion. It has to do with moh-maya, nirvana and all manner of cosmic experiences.

Will the techies pay attention. The Bullet is not meant to perform, to set the roads on fire. A 60mm carb feeding a 35cc bore X 70 stroke makes it clear. The Big B is not a speed fiend— was never meant to be one. Just as plastics are criticized-for being non-biodegradable, funny considering that their greatest strength is resistance to the elements. The mistake is in using them for packaging rather than storage. The Bullet is not a cat- quick screamer machine. It is a stately, super stable long distance cruiser. Anyway, under Indian highway conditions anyone driving a bike at over 70 Kmph ought to have their head examined or better, replaced. So who needs lightning disc brakes? The Bullet is not high on modern conveniences like electronic ignition, fool proof electrics or even electric starters - even the RTO compulsory blinkers look a little out of place. The Bullet is like loving a woman, one doesn’t measure, one senses. If a zero to 60 Kmph in 7 sec is better than a 11 sec bike- techie, you have a tough love life ahead. It’s like saying Apsara at 38-24-36 is better than Swapnika at 36—24—36 and besides has more lustrous hair. One doesn’t love that way, the chemistry is more complex.

The Bullet is not about statistics or performance. It is about old world qualities- those in such short supply today. Qualities like dependability, stoicism. grace under pressure and companionship. On the hill roads of Kerala, the Bullet’s grace is poetic-like Ninjisky he takes the twisty mountain roads, a ballet dancer doing his routine. Weight is a great companion of luxury. At a 162 Kg plus rider, the suspension is too stiff-forget the 5-way rear suspension, that only changes preload. But with another rider and luggage, the ride is luxury car soft. And on the wind swept vistas of Saurashtra while the terrible tiddlers are picking themselves from ditches, trying to get on to the road, the Bullet whispers by, arrow straight. The enormous wheels and their inertia ensure that every scheming pothole and arrogant bump will be summarily smoothed out without the rider even being questioned. And as the others scream “ Roll on or roll over.” and whiz by, one makes a fundamental discovery. The other bikes get you there faster. On a Bullet the ride itself is a part of being there. The soft slap of the chain sets up a taal- mel with the characteristic 4-stroke beat and a while later you discover that you have traveled a long way indeed. After a 400 Km rides when the others are walking around like they wore poison ivy underwear, the Bullet rider saunters away impatient to get rolling again.

The Bullet is a handsome vehicle — wide chested and narrow waisted. You should look at it from a height to appreciate it. From the ground it looks massive. A friend of mine. researching in the Gir National Park was advised against a Bullet by his wild life colleagues With its characteristic silhouette and clutch/-front brake positions, they pointed out, it would look like a bull and increase the chances of attack by lions !! Homage indeed !

There is no such thing as a great bike with a bad engine. A bike may look a little ugly, steer with mind of its own, have bad electrics or bad suspension. But if its engine performs, all is forgiven. In the Bullet, the engine dominates the machine. Eye- catching and arresting, the enormous engine and crankcase look powerful even when the machine is standing still. And while it produces just 18 Bhp, they are produced with will, grit, determination and dependability. Tractor pulling first gear ratio, a decent second, a reasonable third and a decent fourth push the Bullet far past 100 Kmph if required. Given enough highway, the cool running Bullet could take you from one end of the country to another — effortlessly. And if stirred enough by a spirited rider, acceleration can be quite hard. But your average Bullet rider is not a hot head who wants to whiz by— that can be done on these disposable 100 cc machines. The Bullet is a bike to be seen on, and so one chugs by at a pace almost in synchrony with heartbeats. The range of settings, tappets. points, plug gaps and else can make you climb the waills, but if you persist- silk smooth rides are yours — with the priceless Bullet beat that is almost erotic.

The Bullet also has the Human Angle. With other bikes you buy, roll out of the showroom and zoom off into the distant mountains; to brood by yourself, breaking the speed of sound. and probably your neck, atleast once at every intersection. The Bullet is a people angle M/c. No man is an island, certainly not a Bullet owner. You can detect it by the crushing handshake after years of handling the tough front brake and clutch and an unusually muscled right calf from the kickstart. Every Bullet is a personalized dream. You can load it with tonnes of accessories. Headlight hood, crashguards, extra lights, basket, carriers, beading, chrome trim, pedal covers - the works. Some nickel-plate the chrome parts. Some add brass trim, the list is endless. But never, never, ever buy a lock. A Bullet owner who locks his bike is a sissy fit to own only mopeds. Beware, never lock your Bullet. Also buy a heavy chain. This is to hang the ignition and battery cutout key from. The heavier the better. The most revered Bullet owner I know has his keys attached to 4 feet of Supertanker anchor chain. He wears a canvas sack around his waist to put his keys in, walks on hands and feet and is much in demand when elephants run amuck.

And the great mechanic saga begins. It is not like you drive into the service centre, hand over your bike and get it the next day. Far from it. First you shortlist the Bullet mechanics, called "Phoremen" in town. No "phoreman" would be caught dead repairing any vehicle but a Bullet - exclusive. They usually have weird WWF type names. "BABA", “ Ustad ”, "Shetty Chettan" and so on. All have legends attached to them. One works only at night since he needs peace and quiet and so the story goes can assemble by touch as a commando does his AK-47. Another diagnoses by sound alone as you drive into his workshop and so on. After you select one - the drama begins. First is the interview where you have to give details of where you work, how many years you have had the Bullet, earlier problems, how you use it, your income tax number and so on. Then after your earlier mechanic's work and reputation has been ripped into shreds to approving nods from other customers hanging around, the work starts. If the bike is new then the manufacturer's reputation is given the same treatment.

Half a dozen young men descend on your machine. The way the Bullet is constructed is incredible. On average for every part you want to access, six others will have to be removed. For example to see the rocker arms, you will have to start with the petrol tank. To replace the accelerator wire, you will have to take off the headlight. Therefore when the boys have finished locating the “ fault “ your bike looks like a dinosaur skeleton at the museum with parts strewn around. The effect is not quite unlike the 9.30 Doordarshan news the “.. sources say a blast occurred when the car was started...” Don’t shriek or faint. Attached the parts may be, with a frightening array of fasteners and thingammas. Standard tools to take them out include anvils, electric heaters, evil looking tongs and sledgehammers. Forget the instruction manual which says, “to take out the delicate glass-brass pin use a feather”. A sharp tap administered by a 8 pound hammer on a meter long screwdriver will work in the mechanic’s hands. You try with the feather and …. “.Tinkle, tinkle……” !.

Then you are given an option. Not as in “ It will cost Rs.400”. It involves s a long discussion on how the “ conshun-rode" meshes with the “chippia”. One of the listeners reminds the others, “ Remember what happened to Trivedi’s bike”. Then you are given the technical talk. Every Bullet owner in the space of two years becomes a thorough half – baked mechanic using local lingo- “wiser” for washer, “ chiipia” for fork, “dismiss” for screwdriver. “ Terculator” is something I haven't been able to figure out. I suspect the “ Phoreman" is fibbing since every time a fault refuses to go away it is a “ terculator" fault. While Bullet parts are fixed with more goodwill than mechanical certainty, the “ terculator” should certainly not be capable of migrating from the front axle to the swingarm and then into the speedometer. But it is in convenient. Whenever a techie friend with the latest in tiddlers asks me whether the bullet will do a wheelie or fly at low altitude or whatever, I have a answer, “ As soon as I straighten out the bad terculator”. So there.

Forget the techies, forget the doomsayers. Forget even the manufacturer, they don't know what a wonderful bike the Bullet is. All said and done, a Bullet will never let you down on the highways which are its natural habitat: On city roads it rides in a lackluster, protesting way. Even if it does stop, a village mechanic which a six-pound sledgehammer and a crowbar can soon set it right. One doesn't buy a bullet for transport show or for performance, one buys it because one loves what motorcycling stands for: individuality, independence, an eternal love of tinkering and of course adventure and the sound of untrammelled wind in one’s ears.

Listen to the Bike baba. What one needs is a disciplined right fist, boorts, gloves and a helmet. Someone to love, plenty of gas and an eye for beauty in man, machine and wind. The wisdom of the ages decrees that those who have this will travel far indeed and attain Nirvana on the Pony Trail.

-S. Ram Kumar Auto India Aug '97

Run # 409 - The No circle Run

Encouraged by the short run last time around, I thought it was a good idea running with the hares again, than a siesta on a Sunday afternoon. Couldn’t have been more wrong on that one.

The Hash House Harriers announced their run # 409 (ya 409, they have been around for the last 15yrs). This time it was outside of Yelahanka, you had to drive along the CRPF campus to the run site.

All you ppl who read these write-ups must have realized by now, how much I love talking about these things I do, right. Ezzactly. And a few guys get inspired and want to do some checking out. This time Sathish, my neighbor from the ice-pies (or is it eyes-spies) days and Rutu, my Gym buddy from the time when my biceps used to be 14inches, decided to join me.

The run was supposed to start at 4:00. With all the firangs in the group, you would think it would start around that time. Wrong again, it was nearly 4:40 IST when we started running.

The hares (the moderators who lay the trail are called that) were ‘Up yours’ and ‘French fries’ – both French. We were promised a good track with some amazing landscape view. We started first on a wrong track, then found out way back to square one and restarted. And then ruwe did, till kingdom come. I should have guessed when they said, the water spot would be some distance and advised us to carry water. Damn, I didn’t see that coming, did I…

First we ran along a stud farm (ha, so even u thot they grow studs there, welcome to the club). And with this well-built mare running in front of me, I ran like a stallion, myself. (For details, hit the ‘comments’ button and I promise a personalized reply.)

Then the fields started and I shifted my gaze up to the horizon and never once left it. We ran and ran, but the landscape was simply great. Eucalyptus groves, fields, small hills, dirty ponds, uphills, detours, false trails, sweat and blood (there were so many thorns on the way and many of them couldn’t resist the temptation to kiss my bare legs)

Finally when we got back it was about 15kms and close to an hour and 45 mins of running. And then the ceremony happened, first we had to wait for everyone to finish. Sathish and Rutu were among the last. The ‘mare’ finished comfortably ahead of me, now I know where hour-glasses come from.

The Ice slab was there and as usual the ‘hares’ were made to sit on the ice slab, some ragging, leg-pulling happens, the run is named (it was called the no-circle run) and the anthem is sung… and the bottoms-up.
Then the Virgins – newbies are made to get on the block (nkotb). Well, only this time, they decided that the guy who brought them ( tht is me!) gets the water treatment. The water treatment is a tub of water, and I had to cool my ass in it.

First the longish run, then the beer that didn’t go too well and then the water treatment, I had enough for one day.
Sathish didn’t want me in his car, all soaked and dripping and all, but hey, I couldn’t run no more!!

THE BANGALORE HASH HOUSE HARRIERS

THE BANGALORE HASH HOUSE HARRIERS
PRESENTS
Run # 408
SUNDAY, 26th February 2006

I ran last Sunday with this really freaky, weird club - Bangalore Hash House Harriers.

What it is: Its the Bangalore chapter of Hash - “The drinking club with the running problem”.
They run every alternate Sunday afternoon, for like 10-15 kms in serene countryside. The club has a heterogeneous composition in terms of age, sex, shapes, nationality. But, surprisingly they all beer alike – down down down.

First we all met up, ahead of Golden palms spa and resort (I sneaked into the resort for some fotos and a peep into the poolside). Take left at the Brick factory and follow the hash signs – shredded paper and chalk marks. It takes you to a lake, where we wait for the hares to burrow out. Then they come - one night stand, useless widget, hernia, ffu, zulu, sexobics, use-her friendly (all nicknames) and the virgins (us newbies).
We started the run a lil after 5. After about 3.5 kms there was a water spot, hydrate yourself and move on. The trial itself was amazing – paddy fields, eucalyptus groves, kachcha roads dotted with villages. Though we all started off together, we kinda spread soon. Surprisingly, the order was not in accordance with age, sex (usage noun, not verb), or weight. (Btw, weight actually helps rolling down a slope)
And if you lead or fall behind, you have to find the trail yourself. I went on false trails a couple of times. You realize there is something wrong when you don’t see shredded paper for sometime. One fellow runner, Ninaad offered the moral of the false trails “You should chase a false trail sometimes”, he said, “if you are in sales, you will sell more”. Well, in consulting, you also handhold the client on the false trail and get paid for it too. (Actually, the handholding seems good, mabbe I should try my luck at work tomorrow.)

At times, during the run, when you cross the villages, you have stray dogs going bow vow, and some kids running after us. We have a sizeable no of firings running with us, and they pass comments in kannada or in broken inglis.
And finally after about an hour of running, we got back to the lake. Beer flowed easily and mixed well with some below-the-belt jokes. Most jokes were on Bird flu. My Pj mates, am sure, would have seen the connection – bird-chicken-chick-hen-cock…. And then there is a ceremony to express gratitude to the hares responsible for the run. There is this Ice slab on which the ‘awardees’ are made to park their asses. The hash anthem is sung by the group… I didn’t get the words exactly, but I know there was this down down down at the end, when the guys on the block need to go bottoms up. (gawd, not literally!! I meant the beer. Life’s so much better with that, otherwise imagine doing a bottoms up).
I shared the ice slab with 2 other ‘virgins’. One was this dude from the US of A (faintly remember hearing abt it somewhere), who said his name was AC Milan (!!), and the other, Naina, who thought she didn’t qualify to sit on the virgin block. Then the anthem followed, ending in the down down down.
And that, members of the grand jury, is how I lost my virginity at hash!
Then the disperse took place.
The effort that goes into getting all this happening is truly amazing. The moderators have to do a lot of homework, find a place where a run trail can be set. Then they go and mark the trail with shredded paper and chalk. Once this is done, there are smaller logistics issues like getting the drinks van, the snacks, the beer, the ice slab and so on… all this for the honor of cooling off their asses, literally.
“The Rinking Club with a Dunning problem”

Fotos ke liye check kare http://www.flickr.com/photos/manojbhat/sets/72057594071343483/

Bullet Varieties

I found this link that has so many varieties of Royal Enfields available in UK...

http://www.brmc.co.uk/royal_enfield.htm

Hope some day these are also available in India - there is even a 500 CC lean burn engine model.

Kauvery Komforts

Welcome to Bangalore – Mysore Expressway, Roads to Prosperity

It was the valentine weekend. But RTMC (it’s the bullet club, for the uninitiated) decided to play spoilt sport. It isn’t such a bad thing to love a bullet, you know. And that is how I ended up on the Bangalore – Mysore, Road to Prosperity.
Starting point was Town Hall, 7 sharp (beats me, 7 is pretty crooked itself, rite). But I reached there on time, despite the misleading instructions. There were about 10 bullets, and one by one bullets started pouring in. We were 25-30 bullets after the final regroup point at the Rajeshwari arch. There were lotsa new faces this time around too. I am really getting good at forgetting names, these days. Maybe the problem is, am not meeting enough gals. There was some garlanding of the moderators at town hall (full sheke types), Anil gave some speech and all. We started at 7:45 or so.

The Mysore Road is pretty good now, just that it is dotted with towns and the traffic is pretty heavy. But obstacle races are fun. I had done the stretch to Kengeri on my other bike, sooper stretch actually. Even before the engines warmed up, we found ourselves hogging at Kamat Madhuvan, Ramanagara - Masale, idly, vada and by-two coffee. With our tanks full, we headed straight to destination. Two stops, close to 100mins of riding, passing Chennapattna, Mandya and Rangantittu and we were at Kauvery Komforts at around 11.

There was Cauvery close by, and there were cottages for Comfort. Don’t ask me why they skrewed up that spelling. I parked my bike at the resort, and my ass in the cauvery. Stayed in water for like a long time. There was some detergent foam flowing downstream, I thought that was double gain, didn’t have to shower after the dip.

At 1’o clock, there were 30 starved stomachs, but only a couple of hands to make those chapattis. It meant we had to wait for food, but when it did finally come, we made no delay in devouring the meals.

After some photoshoots, hit the highway again at around 2:30. There was this one freak incident that happened on the way back. On these group rides, it’s very common that the group disintegrates after a while of starting – the gaps widens sometimes as much as a few kilometers. It so happened that there were two bullets that were leading the pack, with the 30 odd bulls following at a distance. On one of the overtaking maneuvers, the front seat occupant of a Scorpio, showed the finger to Doc on his Black ThunderBird. Little did they realize that they were messing with 30 odd leather-clad, pony-tailed psychos.

It was good fun when we met up with them at our next break at Café Coffee Day. We heard doc’s version of the story and started out to hunt for those bums. They chickened out and went underground. We sure did send the message across; As we were leaving the place – all the bullets revved up, and in the middle of the lotsa dust and thump, some 20 odd fingers went up.
We reached Kengeri cross by 5:30 in the evening. Mast fun ride this was – short and sweet.

Pics - http://photos.yahoo.com/manojbhat1

Rider Mania 2006

Vital Stats:
Total kms travelled in 3 days 825kms
Distance to Chennai 360kms
Chennai to Bangalore This one is a contest. SMS 9880624910. Type 'P followed by a space' and then your answer
Riding time (return) 4 hrs 50 mins Average speed 70kmph
No of casualties 2 males*

* those moths came charging at me + am not SRK = they are non-females = they are males. QED

Rider Mania: what it is?
It's the congregation of Bullets. A time to meet old pals, make new friends, share ride stories, flaunt motorcycles and party with the community of Royal Enfield bikers from all over the country. The 2005 edition of Rider Mania held in Mumbai saw over 250 hardcore Royal Enfield enthusiasts having a time of their lives. This time round, the event was in the hometown of Royal Enfield, Chennai, organized by MadBulls – the madras bullets club.
Running for 140 kms all the way to Pondicherry along the coastline, the East Coast Road was the venue for this year - Casuarina Bay Beach Resort. The itinerary list was endless and promising some very interesting events. The two-day event was to be packed with interactive sessions with fellow riders, music, fireworks, laser shows, beach games, custom bikes, modified bikes and of course, the traditional Rider Mania group ride, with over 300 bulls racing together.
It has now been about 50 odd days since I had been on the highway, and I was itching to hit the road. (and in case you are wondering, itchguard is manufactured in Chennai). I was very excited about the whole thing, and just couldn’t keep it down in office on Friday. The Bullet was also ready, serviced, full tank, crash guard in place and roaring to go.
There were 30-40 bullets that were to participate in the event from RTMC - the Bangalore Bullet Club. One chunk left on Friday morning, along with ‘Road shakers’ from chandighar, riding to Pondi and then riding along the ECR to the venue. I planned to join the other group that was to leave on Saturday morning. There were about 25-30 bikers who were to join this ride. Muthu was the ride captain; he had done the road to Chennai some hundred times and knew even the bends, the potholes, mobile speedbreakers (read sheep, buffaloes, etc) like the back of his palm.
At 6:15 or so, the first batch left the KR puram ‘hanging’ bridge. No one ripped this stretch thanks to the piercing cold. At the first regroup point – Hotel Greenpark, chitoor, where we stopped to wait for others, bullets started trickling in, there were in all about 20 odd bikes. BF was pongal-vada, poori and special coffee.
The ride from chitoor(AP) to Ranipet (TN) was a superb road. And because it passes through all those states, the trucks don’t take this, to save on state taxes, octroi (manoj bhai mba). I think, we all owe it to the MBAs of the world, there was not one truck, lorry, LCV on the stretch, I swear. Imagine the no. of cops that it would take to enforce this, otherwise. So we save on cops salaries (we are not even talking of the alternate employment that they can do and the subsequent benefit to the society at large). The road also needs a lot less maintenance so we save on that too. The MBA community needs to get a slice (say, 99%) of the pie. With this, ladies and gentlemen, I rest my case.
Oh oh, did I digress? Actually I didn’t, I was thinking all this and glanced at the speedometer, it read 100kmph. I realized all this was polluting my thoughts, and stopped to plug in my sony viao, network walkman. Vroom, vroom, vroom, the bikes sped past. The tail waited for me. It took about 5 odd mins, at good speeds you can make upto 3kms in that time. The fun then started. There were three of us now making the tail of the trial. Two others were veterans in riding. We opened throttle and were taking the bulls to their top speeds. Taking curves at 110, overtaking fellow bulleters, I reached my all time high speed of 117-118kmph. And by the time we came to the next pit stop at Ranipet, we had actually crawled our way to the lead.
I had plans of visiting cousins and friends at Chennai. I went off on my own from there and was in Chennai outskirts by 1230. It took me another hour to find my way to Marina beach and my cousins place. Met up relatives, friends – vinod and pandit. I stayed over at pandit’s place for the night.
The venue Causirina Bay, was about 25kms on the East Coast Road (ECR) from Chennai city. I reached there at 11 in the morning. There was a contest for modified bikes. Don’t miss the photos for any reason. Truly amazing, the amount of work, dedication, brains and passion that had gone into each of it. I don’t know the count, too difficult to estimate, but bullets of all shapes, sizes and colors were everywhere. The best part was the ‘diversity’. There were couples - sad, happy, hot, gay. (If thou are headed for the snaps, thou shalt be rewarded). The men were as hippie as the bullets in all shapes, colors and smells.
And then at 1pm, there was a ride to Mahabalipuram. There were a few hundred bullets that took part. We rocked the East Coast Road, even the sea receded a few inches, what then to say of the rest of the vehicles on the road. On the return journey, all the bulls were riding with their headlights on and we lit the road.
What are the ingredients for a beer? Everyone knows there isn’t one particular recipe. But, hippies, hot chicks, big bikes, beach sands, sun in the face, and subsidized prices on pint and guzzle guzzle guzzle followed the thump thump thump.
I went for a swim, first in the swimming pool and then in the sea. We played a combination of footer, volley and handball in the sea, with all the beer it was hard to say. And in the hand wrestling competition and the man with the best GF behind him, won. Plan to win it next year, you know the area I need to focus upon. There was a major party in the night attended by the CEO and Director, Royal Enfield for giving away prices. Beer barrels continued to roll, amidst the dance floor and some good music.
And now for the best part of the trip – the ride back to Bangalore. There was a gang that was to leave at six in the morning. By the time I got ready, it was close to 6:45 and the gang had left. Punctuality doesn’t pay, even this time it didn’t. Along with me I had doc, muttu (who was supposed to be the 6:00 ride captian) and JFK. Muttu was on his Monster, JFK on his Maximus both 500cc bullets and doc on his Black TB. Two-by-four chai and we were on our way. The ride till Kancheepuram was slow at 60kmph or so. There was a thick fog attimes reducing the visibility to a few feet. With my visor up and my specs foggy my case was worse. BF was in about an hours time at Kancheepuram Saravana Bhavan – pongal vada and masale.
What followed, I cannot describe in words. Everytime I think about it, it brings a smile on my face. If one were to sample our speedometers the readings would probably read like this – 105, 110, 110, 110, 115, 115, 90, 95, 100, 105, 105… and the four bullets were mostly racing alongside each other. I touched and held the bike at my bullets max speed of 117-118kmph at 4500rpm for a minute or so. And despite that the 500ccs make you feel like a bacchu really. The thump thump is so loud that it drowns your bikes noise, you throttle when they do and cut speed when they do. In effect, it beats (even dictates) on the top two counts – speed and thump. The roads were simply fabulous. And you could catch that look on our faces when we took our bio-breaks. One more chai break at Greenpark at chittor. Guys got their tanks filled here, petrol costs about 3Rs less.
Next stop was destination KR Puram Bridge. We had taken 4 hours 50 mins to do the stretch of 360kms of some real good road.
Barring two incidents where I left 6 and 3 feet tyre marks on the road, there were no other stray incidents (details on demand only). Great ride in all!!
I had this sinking feeling my stomach when I got back. I was once again this small boy who hated to return back to Bangalore, to home, to school and wished he’d stay on forever doing those naughty things at his grandparent’s.
And now, in the eerie silence of my room, I take a deep breath, I close my eyes and … all I hear is the thump thump thump…
News links:
The Hindu http://www.hinduonnet.com/2006/01/23/stories/2006012308850200.htm
Ppl, the fotos finally are now available at http://www.flickr.com/photos/manojbhat/sets/72057594057378210/
The pictures tell the true story of the ride. Spend time on it, post comments, there are some where u can run the mouse over the snap to see hidden comments, simply enjoi maadi

Lord of the Ring

Okie we now know the World is Flat, but that does not mean a Vasco da Gama wasn’t around to check that out. Well, the ring road is round, you didn’t expect me take that at face value. It had so gotten on my nerves that I had started seeing gol gol ringmares in the night. So I had to put an end to it. Parag volunteered to join in, after all that pestering, tormenting, nagging, henpecking, harassing, hassling, and bicep-showing (wow, I know to use the thesaurus) he didn’t have a choice, but he did good to ‘volunteer’.
The algorithm was this.
Start from BEL circle at 0530hrs on the ring road.
Keep going straight.
If there is a fork, do not take the one that says “Bangalore City”.
Loop until you hit the BEL circle again.
Then stop and Beer.
Before you start thinking “whats the big deal about that, I do half the ring to work everyday”, let me briefly introduce our bikes – a 2005 Hero Hawk and a 2005 Hero Ranger Swing. Ya it is that piece of machinery that comes with a handle, a pair of wheels, a seat, pedals and no fuel tank!!
It sure was very pleasant when we started off. We hit Tumkur road first, then took off towards Mysore Road. That was the best stretch of the whole ride. It was about an hour into the ride and the roads were all sloping down, not too much sweat and the sun just coming up. The sight was truly amazing.
Like all sloping things have to come to an end (pun, if any, unintended), we were in for some real steep climbs from then on. We made it in front of NLS, University, PESIT, RVCE puffing and climbing all the way. And that is when my pedal gave in. The pedal is connected to the chain sprocket through this rod. The screw thread connecting this rod to the pedal started getting ground under my weight (aprox. 40kgs). It was about 8:30 now and there was one cycle shop, which didn’t have the connecting rod. We considered welding, but the hardware shop was not open. Finally did some jugad and got the cycle wallah to fit an old rod in place. All this cost us 15 bucks and some precious time.
By the time we reached Silk board junction after about 35kms of cycling with all this breakdown and all, our enthu levels had really sapped. We took the easier option of getting into Banglaore city and headed straight back through Koramangala, cubbon park, sankey road and back to sanjaynagar. And at 1130, despite stumbling blocks, we reached the final destination – the restaurant that served beer with breakfast (breakfast when we started, lunch as we finshed)
A perfect Sunday get away - Peter Jakson would sure have been proud. I am the Lord of the Ring!!

As fast as a Bullet

One of those nice Saturday's when you are cruising on those almost empty cubbon road at a good speed, a vroooooooooooom happens. I did some catching up and found this machine at the next signal. And things around started having this hue of green. The next signal, it was deep green. Well, in case you still havent figured out, it was this mean 1000cc Yamaha R1 with some college sleuths painting the town Green! Just the thot sends my adrenaline racing....
Now you know what new year present I am expecting...

Marathoned!!!

Bangalore played host to yet another marathon, which is gaining increased popularity these days. There were some 600 participants this time around, in all age groups and sizes on this fine Sunday morning. Read all about it here
http://www.runnersweb.com/running/RunnersWeb_External_Links.html?http://news.webindia123.com/news/showdetails.asp?id=158936&cat=India
http://www.bangalorehalfmarathon.com/
I had to choose between this and a Kemmanugundi road trip, and the fitness freak in me won. Unlike the full marathon that I completed last time, when I was running all alone, I managed to motivate Satish and Parag to join in. I had a sizeable team from IBM who had chipped in too. These were senior consultants, sales executives all set to do the 21kms stretch. We were a team indeed, all wearing the IBM T-shirts and of course having a common goal this time – to reach the finish line.
For reasons of traffic management, this had to be changed to kanteerava – Hebbal flyover – kanteerava from what would have been a good route. This was not bad, but I had done this earlier during the full marathon, so was slightly boring.
A very enthusiastic crowd had gathered at the stadium. I saw a lot of familiar faces from the last time. There is a good communion now amongst the runners.
The race was flagged off at 7am. The weather was overcast, the sun not showing up till the race was over. It was nice running in such conditions. The traffic police did a good job keeping the barricades on, till the end of the race, in some places even helping the volunteers with the water bottles at the pit stops.
I made it to the finish line in 2:30 hours. The shutterbug had bit this time round and there are a few good snaps you can catch on http://www.flickr.com/photos/manojbhat/sets/1611488/show/
One other reason to click that link – check flickr out… its really cool.
Follow this link to download all the snaps and view the album ‘Bangalore half marathon’.

Ooty

whoever: Hey, how was ooty?
we: ooty was a fine city, man… its now 600 bucks finer.
whoever: what did u guys do there?
we: oh crap !!
Yes, we did go to ooty last weekend, and yes, it is winter and we are sane. Tima planned this whole thing. Sri, John, Sailesh and I were cajoled into believing it would indeed be pleasant there. We left on Thursday, 8th for a 3 days weekend trip.
Thanks to Minal, my sis friend, we stayed in the Shiv Shakti guest house, which was a couple of kms from the bus stand. It had all basic amenities (read bar) nearby. Sriram and I were in no mood to go out, coz there was a TT table (sri found the screws and the ball for it), carom, cricket and ludo (who?) in the guest house. But tima was at it again, always wanting to hire a bike and go somewhere. And like all of you warned us, there was the rain again and again. And eventually, only thing we didn’t do at ooty, was the bike ride.
We did a lot of taxi rides – day one to Botanical garden, doddabetta and tea factory, day two to Pykara falls, Day three to Mettupalyam. We went to Mettupalyam by the Nilgiri express. The Nilgiri Mountain Railway is considered a marvel engineering skill in the construction of railway lines. It is the only one of its kind in India which runs on a rack. You got to check this link out if you have any regard for your ingineering degree, here.
At a height of 2,623 metres, Dodabetta Peak is the highest point in the district. Situated at about 10 km from the Ooty town, it is one of the most prominent view points around Ooty. The top of the peak remains covered by mist most of the time but on a clear day, you can have a look at the landscape as far as the plains of Coimbatore and the Mysore plateau. On our way down we went to the Tea Factory.
Pykara Falls was also amazing, breathtaking scenery. We had good kadle kaay, bajjis and raided a restaurant on our way back from there. I did some trekking in the hills. Sri also supposedly followed me, but I am not sure if he was trekking too.
There were loads of stuff – gyan sessions, shopping, nostalgic moments, duck outs, talli times, and cartloads of crap.

Chinnaswamy...

I woke up to the Saturday morning headlines and a paper full of how India was to take on the mighty South Africans at Bangalore, with all efforts of beg-borrow-steal a ticket gone futile, I was settling down for the live telecast. And then my stars turned at noon and within 2 hours I found myself in the G-stand on Chinnaswamy stadium, thanks to my friend Srini.
My first ODI in a stadium, under lights, India on a winning streak, formidable opponents in SA, white ball, green grass, perfect ingredients for a memorable experience.
It was so much better than watching it on TV on so many counts. For one, you didn’t have that dispensable commentary, replaced by the shouts of “bharat mata ki… jai” and the “India India… clap clap clap”. The idiot box was still around in the form of the big screen showing only random replays, and a lot of commercials, and the scorecard. It is somehow weird that people have their eyes fixed on the giant screen while the match is actually happening live right there!! Talk about addiction to the idiot box. I must admit, I did scan the screen often too, so that I could see the pretty faces in the crowd that the lens captured. Guys, I think there is a big fraud here, those gals are not in the stadium, I didn’t see them at all.
I was close to the third man position on the pavilion end, which meant you can get a good view irrespective of the bowling end. The barricades separating the stands, the net to prevent the bottle throwing and all the kakhi-clad ‘spectators’ (read cops) questioned my evolution and I was feeling caged at times. At other times, it was as if I was in a coliseum, a la Gladiator style.
There was this mad rush for the one-minute-fame of being on TV. What all people do to be catch the attention of that camera.
The first half was very uneventful, no great entertainment. I remember I yawned a few times too. Then the lights came on, the looong lunch ended and the Indians came on to bat. The stadium was packed (not uncomfortable, I must add) then. The Mexican waves (countdown for which is provided on the big screen too), the cheering, followed by the oooooooos started off. There were some real entertainers (sober?) in my stand. There was one who was dancing all the time, much to the irritation of the guys behind him and to the amusement of others. The cops were entertaining too, maybe they felt they were not getting too much attention. Once in a while, the entire battalion would move from one end of the stand to the other, catch hold of some random guy, the rest was lost coz of all the people standing to see the performance.
And despite all this security, there were cameras flashing around. And you wont believe it, junta were bursting crackers at the end of the match. And like in the matches of the 80’s the crowd from one section, ran into the field after the wining shot was played. So much for security!
Good match, good crowd, good weather… thanx srini…

Dakshina Kashi Antaraganga

Its has been a longtime since you hit the highway. All the bottled up frustration of riding the TB in the chock-a-block traffic, shifting gears, stopping, braking,honking, cursing… it had to be unleashed. And then an announcement finds its way into your inbox… the RTMC is going on a ride on the 13th Nov, Sunday. Get your bike ready!!
I had my childhood friend (chaddi dost), Udu coming down from Univ of Nevada, Reno. He rides the Honda Hurricane CBR1000. He was more than happy to jump on my pillion seat, inspite of the we-need-to-leave-by-7 clause.
I spent the Saturday in Teknik motors, my bike was due for its 3rd month birthday gift – the 'free' service, change of oils, routine check up (oh ya, you can actually celebrate B’days like that, try that on ur GF next time around).
The ride was to a place called Antaraganga in Kolar district. The bulleters were to assemble at 0730hrs at Mekhri circle. This was my first ride in a group. There were about 17 bikes, I guess. It wasn’t entirely bullet gang, one BMW 650 and one RD 350 blended well with the big bikes. We had to fill the reservation quota for girls - two of them made it on a RX 100.
We were definitely on Indian Stretchable Time, which meant we left Mekhri circle (in IST time zone you don’t keep track of the actual time). It was a great sight indeed, when you have 15 odd big bikes parked in one line on the road. And ofcourse, the omnipresent mama paid us a visit waving his fine book. Imagine the dub-dub-dub of 15 bullets as we left Mekhri circle, that alone was enough to set your adrenaline pumping. It is said “Everyone makes way for a Bullet” and when there are 15 of ‘em… am not giving that one easily, guess guess...
Bikers joined us at Murphy’s Road and KR puram and we rode off on NH4. My pillion rider was awestruck seeing the direction boards and all and nearly fell off the bike when he saw the ‘rope bridge’ on KR puram. The road was pretty good, and most of the bullets sailed at top speed for long distances. The traffic was also manageble (still thinking of the Everyone Makes Way…??). We stopped at a highway hotel - Kamat for breakfast after about an hour of riding. It was a superb sight, all the bullets parked there, with the onlookers gaping at the roadies.
The gang reached Antaraganga at 1130 or so. There is a stretch of bad road, left turn off the Bus stand that leads to it. We parked the bikes in front of a abandoned police outpost. There was a general chat session, intro and stuff, followed by bike tech discussion, riding ettiquette and experience sharing. Everyone wanted to share their experiences on the long rides. But it can get boring to the listener, coz no amount of words can really describe the feeling. Remind me this, when you are on the wrong end of my narration, if it happens.
Antaraganga is a spring which is believed to be connected to Ganga. It is called the kashi of the south for this reason. Some 200 odd steps take you to this pushkarni and a temple for pilgrims to take a dip and a bath. This is halfway to the top of the hill. A few of us climbed some more. The city of Kolar was spread out below and the view was great.
There is supposed to be a motorable, muddy road that takes you to a village on the top. Uday and I had to get back by 3, so we had to split away from the group, as they continued for lunch. We hit the NH4 by 1345. The traffic on the return trip was heavy and it took us close to 90 mins to get back to Bangalore.
Good trip, nice fun… RTMC, here I come… (waw, I should try poetry)
I know you have been dying to hear this, I should give this to you if you have read this far.
“Everyone Makes Way For A Bullet” And When There Are 15 Of Them, They Make 15.”

Fotos available at http://photos.yahoo.com/manojbhat1

Singapore is a fine city, lah

I know, I know, you have heard/seen that one before. But there is no fine for plagiarism, is there? It does make a nice opening line lah.
I was there for the whole of october, enuf time to look around, see places, hang out in the shopping malls, try some beer, make observations, draw conclusions…
here goes... in no particular order...
The Work
The work/training was good. I got a glossy certificate at the end of it. It did a whole lot good to my ego as well. It’s not everyday that you get to answer tricky questions and nearly top the reviews and tests; all that without too mucha effort, and I promptly attributed it to the stuff between my ears.
At the training room by 9 and out by about 7 in the evening was the schedule. Office was excellent with a nice view of all the flights landing at Changi. Every time you looked out of the window you would be assured of a flight landing or taking off. The Changi Business Place was dotted with many big firms. And as you would have guessed, the “diversity” ensured that you used up the entire lunch hour, filling more than just your hungry stomachs.
The Condo
Superb condominium when seen in isolation. But at the cost of staying in Hilton or Le Meredian, not too good. Check out the snaps, there a couple of snaps we took, of course after the maid had done her tidying.
I got the master bed room. On the 12th floor, with balcony and a glass wall on one side, the view had to be good. The condo had a pool, sauna and a gym (ya, do I follow it or is it the other way round?). It is a feeling to relax in a pool after the days work. I tried the sauna a few times, thou I not too sure whether I like it or not.
The Highways
“Hougang (pronounced AUGAN… with the last ‘g’ eaten up), Hougang street 91, Take the TPE highway”. That would how a typical cab ride home would begin, with yours truly in the navigators seat. It’s no fun riding/driving on those highways – cars stick to their lanes, everyone is at about 100kmph, hardly any overtaking, no squeezing between cars, no honking… so apart from a motorist who zips past you at 100, there’s nothing that is even remotely as 'exciting' as riding on Hosur Road.
The Bikes
The most common bike around is the Honda Phantom which is anywhere between 150 and 250cc. Our good ol’ Yamaha 100cc were also present. There are also loads of small scooty kinda bikes. A visit to the happening places of the city and there are lots of sports bikes the Hondas, the Yamahas and a few Harleys. Bikes still serve the purpose of transportation maybe a substitute to the very expensive cars. So you see a fair number of bikes on the roads. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see any Bullets. Royal Enfield has a showroom here in Singapore.
The Shopping
Lots of shopping malls and maals around to ensure you shop till you are dead or run out of dough.
Mustafa center - Under its modest exterior, you’ll find every conceivable item here at some of the lowest fixed prices in Singapore. This is also close to Little India, a place where there is an aberration to the Singapore rules of no littering and no spiting. Maybe becoz they don’t want you to miss India.
Sim Lim Square - Row upon row of shops on four levels deal in stereos, tape decks, CD players, TVs, VCRs, laser disc players, cameras, handy cams and anything electronic. You need to do the Burma Bazaar kind of bargaining here.
Then there is Bugis, Orchard street, Suntec, etc, etc, etc.
The Gals
Guys wake up and catch the first available no-frills flight to Singapore. I fell for almost any chinki babe I saw. And in case you are wondering, there is no fine for gawking. (and btw, I traveled IA, cant promise the same if you travel anything else.) I had a Singapore colleague and he showed us around places. The city wakes up at 12 in the night and never sleeps. There are dance clubs that are filled to capacity on the weekends. I really mean it when I say filled – at 2 in the night, when you want to shake a leg, or a hip, or anything else on the dance floor, all that you can shake is a neck!! There is no room for anything else.
Zouk, Top ten and some-name-i-forget are some cool ones that you shouldn’t miss.
Hey, did I digress from the main topic? Cant divulge the details here, treat me out somewhere and I may loosen my tongue a bit.
The Ppl
Most of them are from outside. You can find women (n men, of course) of all races here. The reason why the government encourages people to make children. I have heard that it sponsors the upbringing of the “third” child of the same parents!!
I would get confused living there. There is no, one culture/religion that people belong to. They seem extremely paranoid about everything. You have signs and warning notices and endless announcements about even a very unlikely danger. Many sings are superfluous and downright ridiculous at times. Like this one in the men’s room that says “Please aim before you shoot”. Sometimes I wonder if this curbs creativity, leads to very compartmentalized thinking. And I am not merely referring to that comment in particular.
Okie there is one other notice that I read somewhere which I deserves a mention here.
Our Aim is to keep this toilet clean
Gentlemen Your aim will help. Stand closer, it is shorter than you think
Ladies Please remain seated for the entire performance
But I should add, the people are extremely helpful and make tourists very comfortable.
The places
I visited Sentosa and the zoo. Check out the hyperlink for more info. Truly fabulous places both. I got to do a bit of cycling on East Coast Parkway as well. I am running out of time and space, else I would have written about my Malaysian friend,etc, etc... but...
Ps: fotos at http://photos.yahoo.com/manojbhat1