There were two
options, either I stayed at home or frowned or I travelled and be happy. I chose
the latter.
I thought about
it while packing my bag for this short unplanned road trip on bike. I thought
about it while taking shower, while making a phone call to arrange for a bike
and while I frantically ransacked the entire house for my pair of glasses which
were lying just next to the pillow. I did not have a plan or a map and I had
never done this route before. I was alone, but as in the toughest moments of my
life, this was my strength. It was a chance that my friend, from whom I had
borrowed the bike and almost said goodbye also joined me for the ride, to
attend a wedding he had forgotten about. The wedding was in the exact place
where I was planning to ride to – Gopalpur-on-sea.
“…when men
travel and meet, they talk and think…” – H.G.Wells, A short history of the
world.
These lines were
echoing in my head while we rode out of the city. It is interesting how when we
are travelling on the road, what we eagerly look forward to many times, is a
city or town to get fuel, food, sleep, medicines or to get the bike repaired
but, most travels start out with this pressing urgency to get out of the city! We
got out all right, tanked up the silver coloured Bullet Electra 350-‘the good
old bullet’ as my friend Prakash would refer to it.
We stopped first
at ‘BataBhuasuni’ which means Goddess of the road. I had once, many years
before not stopped by at this temple and went ahead in arrogance but returned
with a broken bike, back and ego. It occurred to Prakash that we could have the
temple prasad for lunch. The Mother Annapurna fed her children well. The
vegetable curry was cooked in mustard oil and has mustard paste in it, the
strong smell still fills my nose as I write about it.
The road was the
best I have seen in Odisha, riding was very comfortable. The ‘good old bullet’
was really good. It was steady even at 100kmph. The traffic was minimal by NH 5
standards. The afternoon sun was bright and hot but the cool winds of December
helped shield some of the impact. My friend had no idea why I was on this trip.
He got the first hint when I pulled over to turn to the Narayani temple, 100kms
away from Bhubaneswar. The temple was clean and the mountain stream flew right
through the temple, from the sanctum sanctum to courtyard all the way to the
steps. We drank some of the water and exchanged the driving seat. The road
continued to impress and give joy.
There is a small
town on this road, known as ‘Tangi’ which means a large open space. That is
what the roads would make you feel and you can very well see a good two or
three kilometers away. The roads would be inviting you like the open arms of
your beloved, to come and embrace them.
After a few
kilometres, we came closer to Rambha, a scenic place overlooking Chilika Lake.
Prakash has the fortune to drive on this ‘ghaati’ and I had the fortune to soak
in all the beauty of the green mountains, black roads, blue sky and blue lake
with green and black islands scattered over it. Prakash showed me a sign board
and I asked him to pull over. There was a tea shop as well. The sign board was
for Oliver Ridley Turtles. A narrow mud-road led to the mouth of river
Rushikulya, where the turtles come every year for hatching and breeding around
this time of the year. This event is a much-awaited one in the calendar of
wildlife enthusiasts and lovers. The tea shop guys told us that we could see
some turtles. This was certainly not a part of the plan and I was thrilled to
say the least. We did some planning and headed out to Gopalpur-on-sea to find a
place to spend the evening and half of the night. We would visit the tea shop
again in a few hours but this time slightly angrier.
We checked in
into Swosti Palm Resorts. It was no coincidence that it did not have a ‘Sea’
suffix or prefix with its name. We discovered in the light of the morning that
the only thing near that hotel was a large pool of foul-smelling waste. Then we
headed out to the beach. It was dark and beautiful, the sky was clear and I
could not remember when was the last time I had seen such a clear sky that you
could tell one star from another. We roamed around, and exchanged stories that
we had not shared for the last 5 years. We had some tea and some really fresh
salad, thinly chopped sprouts, tomato, cucumber and onions with half of a lemon
squeezed over it! The unmistakable ‘jhaal-mudhi’ followed.
Prakash still
had the Science (actually Zoology) hangover from his college days and I was in
‘I-need-to-get-my-poetry-back’ mode. He explained that the waves were due to
temperature difference and that they actually don’t travel from one point to
other as they appear. I said that the waves looked as moustaches on the face of
the sea-god and that the stars twinkled when the talked. We walked back to our
hotel to have dinner. We planned to sleep early after having minced vegetables
and rotis for dinner. The pool table was the saving grace of the hotel and it
kept us away from our wake-up early plan. I woke up at 2.30 AM, Prakash has not
slept at all. We got ready and put on our jackets and helmets. Shoes gave way
to slippers as we expected to walk long miles in the sand to watch the rare
Oliver Ridley Turtles. It was cold and dark but our spirits were high and we
rode at around 70kmph. Prakash was right, the chill of the night affected our
speed. We reached the spot on highway soon but then the black magic began.
There were no
fellow wildlife or nature lovers, there were no guides or villagers. It was 4AM
and the world was doing what it should be-sleeping. The only light was that of
our ‘good-old-bullet’ and we could not tell the road from the open fields. We
followed the trail and reached a dead-end where we met white bright field and a
red broken temple. A strong smell engulfed us along with fear. I could almost
see a naked sadhu come out of the temple with something like a head in his hands.
‘Let’s turn
back’ I said and turned my back on the temple. I did not want to see a
one-eyed, broken-toothed smile greeting me.
‘I think we lost
our way here’ Prakash has been here before and was trying hard to remember the
right way.
We went ahead
and soon we had a surprise company.
‘Look. A black
hare’ Prakash shouted.
It was black
hare, which was in a hurry. Though the road was full of stones and mud, it
still allowed us a speed of 30-40kmph. The hare was faster. It was as if it was
sent to us to lead us to the river mouth.
I would not have
been surprised if the hare stopped and her mistress in stood there with a
Dalmatian and a magic wand. Well, our guide disappeared at the next crossroad,
leaving us to figure out the rest of the road.
We lost our way again, Prakash’s
past memory and present sense vying with each other. We finally reached the
point, but there was no one.
‘The turtles
won’t be here for another month or so’ a villager informed us as he came from
the sea.
What was he
doing in the sea all night? I was curious to look into his bag, but avoided the
temptation. As we were discussing whether to head ahead, wait or get back,
there was a sudden brightness behind us. First one and then two, three flames
lit up. We turned back and saw three women besides the fires.
They were more
fluent in Telegu than Oriya. They were cooking rice for their husbands which
would be their breakfast and lunch both. They also confirmed that we were too
early for the turtles. We tried to not get disappointed.
‘It was
thrilling. I have made my first night ride’ I said.
‘The hare would
be my take away!’ Prakash added as he laughed.
We decided to
watch the sunrise from the Gopalpur beach and this time I was on the driver’s
seat. It was meditative. The silence and the chill of the night, the darkness
rendering an eerie uniformity to the landscape sent me to a meditative mood.
Prakash was on alert thankfully and gave a timely pat to show me a diversion we
approached in a hurry.
‘Keep your eye
on the yellow indicators or the white line’
‘Ohh. Thanks.’ I
followed this useful advice.
It was still
very dark when we reached Gopalpur but the horizon was a spectacle beyond
words. It was as if a painter was preparing his canvas. It was lit with blue
and red colors. The rest of the sky was pitch black with beautiful stars
shining.
We decided to
simply wait for the sunrise there.
‘Sunrise is at
5.45 AM’ Prakash informed.
‘Says who?’
‘Google!’ He
smiled.
The sky slowly
changed its colour-from the horizon to the centre. The morning clouds added the
extra hues. It was well-past 5.45, but there was no sign of the sun. I was beginning
to wonder if ever I would behold a sunrise over the Bay of Bengal. I had tried
many times to witness the spectacle which my mother described something as ‘popping
out of a ball from a child’s hand’, but had not succeeded. On some occasions,
it was morning mist, on other it was long queues at gas stations and on yet another
occasion, it was having an over-enthusiast photographer-friend for a driver,
who decided to click palm trees on the road instead of sun-over-sea.
It was truly rewarding
to say the least. The red sun turning to orange and finally yellow and all the
while warming our bodies, hearts and mood. It was like the sky pouring out the wine
of the sun to the glass of our souls. We carried the warmth and goodness to the
huge red and white lighthouse. There was an abandoned project site with lovely stonework
to match the images of ‘postcards from Europe’. We did some posing, not to miss
out on the photo-opp.
We checked back
into our hotel and played another round of pool accompanied by nice brown-black
tea with strong aroma of ginger. We took shower and headed out for the
religious part of the trip. First, it was the trip not planned to Dhabaleshwar –
Shiva temple on beach and next it was to the temple of Mother Tatatarini on the
hill-top.
We rode back to Bhubaneswar
after a sumptuous wedding feast we had for our lunch. It was one of the most
tasty wedding feasts I have had in recent times. We rode non-stop for three
hours before stopping for tea and snacks. It was fast but steady riding with
average speed of around 90kmph. The city lights and backlights of vehicles on
the highway signaled the ‘same old world’ feeling. ‘Same old world’ of compulsions,
delusions, confusions, emotions, duties, explanations and gumption (word borrowed from Zen and art of Motorcyle maintenance) of a different kind.
