A journey is best measured in friends rather than miles.

-

Tim Cahill

 

Saturday, July 23rd 2011 must have dawned bright and shiny, but we were all busy sleeping to witness the sunrise. The previous night, I had packed my bag and brought it to the office, so that I could come to my friend’s (Manoj) house directly. Before leaving home, I had logged on to the internet to check the train departure time. We had decided to reach Delhi by train1. The train would also take care of the three bikes we wanted to take on the trip. The website told me the train would leave at 12:45 PM, Saturday.

By 9 in the morning, we had a billion things to do, but hadn’t even crossed out the waking up part. I had been half-awake and half-frustrated since six in the morning trying to wake everybody up, but no one would listen. Eventually, and painfully, all the zombies began moving around, gathering speed, energy and focus at snail’s pace. I mumbled angrily at everyone and informed them once again that we had now only two hours to get to the station (The Yeshwanthpur Railway Station in Bangalore – exactly on the opposite end of where we were), to get the bikes signed, checked, packed and loaded, finish whatever minor shopping remained, and get ourselves on the train.

I worked everyone up into a frenzied and irritated mood, including myself. We decided it was best to split up. One group would take the bikes to the station with the help of another friend, and Moham and I would finish the shopping and reach the station as soon as possible. The first group left, leaving Moham and I behind, trying to start the bike. The bike (Manoj’s bike – the very same bike that had carried us majestically on the trip to Kemmengundi) wouldn’t start! And when it did start, it would go a few hundred meters before stopping again. My nerves were already frayed and this was not helping. Moham was still cool, trying to get the bike fixed.

It fixed itself after a lot of kicking and didn’t give us further problems, but it did delay us. Through all of this, I was trying to reach Sumanth, who hadn’t spent the night with us and was still incommunicado. Somewhere in the middle of buying four pairs of cheap slippers, he called. He was near the railway station. I called him thirty minutes later, and he was still near the station, but hadn’t reached!

All in all, it wasn’t a very happy me that reached the station at 12:25. Thribhuvan (3) and Manoj were already in the process of getting the bikes packed, and had finished all the paperwork. We took the bikes behind the station to get them parceled for the three day train ride, and the man there asked us to cough up a twelve hundred rupees more to pack the three bikes. After a bit of bargaining, we agreed upon three hundred per bike.

So in the end, it cost us exactly six thousand rupees to transport three bikes from Bangalore to Delhi. This is still cheaper than renting a bike in Delhi or Manali. Bikes out of Delhi are being rented at anywhere between Rs. 600 – 1300 a day.

While that was being taken care of, I went around looking for the train. There was a train to Delhi on the same platform that I was on, but the number on it was different. A little apprehensive, I went down to the enquiry, and found 3, Sumanth, Manoj and Moham standing there, talking about the very same thing.

Where’s the train, they ask me. It should have been here by now, I say. We all turn around and approach the enquiry counter. The man there says, ‘That train? That won’t be here until 10.20.’

‘But it’s already almost 1 in the afternoon’, I say, a little hysteric.

‘I meant ten in the night, son. Show me your ticket…’, he says. I hand him the ticket printout that I’ve got.

‘Yeah, this train will leave at 22.20. You must have got it mixed up with this other train, as the train numbers are so similar.’

At that moment, I froze. I didn’t want to turn around to face my friends, all of whom I had hassled, irritated, rushed, scolded and shouted at to get to the station nine hours before the train would actually arrive!

But I had to turn. And face them. I broke into a smile, and they burst out laughing. They grabbed me and hit me mockingly, all the time laughing it up. I was embarrassed, but if you ever do a mistake, it is best to do it in the presence of your best friends. They can make you feel good even about a mistake.

What better way to start a journey than a silly story such as this? As we mulled around the station, illegally using the first class lounge in the station, I realized there was a very important lesson for me to learn from this experience. There was no point pushing for things and forgetting to enjoy the experience of it all. I was panicky, pushy and not being a good traveler that morning. And the train timing incident was just the slap in the face I needed to wake me up and actually taste the excitement of the trip, rather than worry about particulars. I learnt that day that it was enough that I was with friends, about to embark on a life changing journey, and the fact that I had messed up the beginning WAS the whole point. The only thing I was doing wrong was that I wasn’t enjoying the experience.

Personally, it was the best thing to happen before the trip. I’d have been just as stuck on the entire trip, and probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much as I did. A traveler has to leave his old self behind, like a piece of luggage you wouldn’t need on the trip. What they really mean when they ask you travel light is to leave home minus the ego. Become a new person.

We were excited when the train finally rolled into the platform and we climbed into it after making sure our bikes were also loaded. Traveling with friends in a train has a romance of its own. On the train, there was nothing to do except be with friends all the time, talk, pull each other’s leg and stare through the window at the varied sights of Hindustan in wonder and awe. The journey to Delhi on the train was unhurried. I tried imbibing this spirit into me, the spirit of not hurrying, of not being intent on arriving, with an objective of better experiencing the minute moments of the trip that occur suddenly, like the flash of a falling star in the darkest of nights, and disappear just as quickly. And as the train chugged along the heart of this land, holding us in its arms like a machine trying to distill things, this spirit rose to the top of our emotions and everything else was left behind.

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Read the first part of this series here - Himalayan Dreams - Planning.

 

Picture legend:

1. An astonishing sunset in a beautiful valley of Ladakh.

2. Waiting for the train to arrive.

3. Moham and Sumanth fooling around in the station, having fun.

4. That's 3, Rohit (me) and Moham (L-R), playing cards on the train.

5. A picture of Sumanth's camera, next to my copy of 'One Life to Ride', a novel by Ajit Harisinghani based on his solo bike trip to Ladakh.

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