My Dream Girl

If ever I said to any of my friends that I am a romantic they would not hesitate for two seconds before retorting with "In your dreams." Well, it is true. In reality I am as romantic as Great Wall of China. However in the premise of this dream I am surprisingly a romantic!

There are dreams that are so effervescent that the moment you wake up, all memories and recollections of it are lost. Then there are dreams that linger on for a while with its memories fading by the hour. Then there are some dreams, the rarest of dreams that literally jolt you, dreams so memorable that you wish you never had woken up. Dreams so poignant that you strive hard to keep those memories cherished.

Yesterday I had one such crazy dream. I dont remember the hows, the whys , the wheres etc of the start of the dream but I do remember me being on a crazy escapade trying to help a girl who was trapped in a prostitution ring escape from her tormentors. Contrary to the usual persona of women in such circumstances who are shocked, brutalized and traumatized this was a particularly cheery, chirrupy and a non stop chatterbox of a woman! In my customary seriousness I remember several times I had to rebuke her to shut up lest she gave away our positions. Trains, bus and countless other vehicles later I finally am travelling with her in a rickety autorickshaw. To hide her, I have made her wear a shawl over her head and since we are going over an area patrolled by the goons, I made her recline her head on my lap. Bang comes a naughty retort from her accusing me laughingly of ulterior motives for doing that but she does obey. And now in an increasingly colorful montage is the sight of me stroking her face tenderly. And the next moment as I wonder about how to take her to freedom in a Royal Enfield Bullet I "borrow" from someone, I wake up.

I have never cursed my bladders as I did at that time.

I went back to bed, tried to relive the dream which was so fresh and vibrant in my mind, but the magic was gone. Yes, my imagination could recreate the whole thing, but now the girl near me seems something artificial. The personality that she had earlier is no longer there and instead what I have is an automaton under my control.

It was at that moment I wondered how in the hell could a product of my mind, a character of my dream have such poignant personality! This is not the visualization of a character I have met anywhere, either in reality or in any form of media! Constrained as I am in a perennial lack of mingling with the fairer sex I find it strange how such a vibrant female personality came as a figment of my dreamverse!

I dont know whether I would meet any such person in my life, I am not even sure if the circumstances of my dream is something I want to live in reality. But one thing is for sure. On this cool Sunday I am going to take my first opportunity to get back to sleep so that at least in that way I could continue to be with my dream girl. Especially since that is the only way I could be a romantic.

Wayanad Ride - Day Three - Return

It is easy for a person bored at a traffic jam or stuck behind a computer or clinging on to a bus to dream of a long solitary ride to some exotic destination. It is easy to dream about embarking on a 300 odd kilometer ride when your body is healthy and mind lucid. If at these times you are asked about how you would feel about a 400 km ride, you would be enthusiastic. But the key question is would you answer the same in the last ten kilometers after a 400 kilometer ride, 18 continuous hours of wakefulness of which 15 hours have been spent on the road with all the 15 hours being drenched and nearly 12 hours through non stop rains? Would you be enthusiastic about a long ride when your eyes are burning with driving at night with rains battering your naked eyes and your body's unspeakable parts aching and sore all over? You dont have to answer right now, read on and make up your mind.

The third day of the Wayanad Inter State Get To Gether dawned for me at 5 AM as I got up to see our friend Navin gearing up for his solo return ride home. I dispensed away with a bath, deeming it an unnecessary hassle. Geared and ready to leave, I bid a few awake xBHP'ians good bye and set off into the misty cool Wayanad countryside at 6 AM. I had planned the route in detail the previous night itself and the landmark from where I had to turn right to reach Mananthavady was being mentally recited again and again. So with no hassle I found the deviation and the fun truly started.

In the early hours of the day the ride through the country side roads from Sultan Bathery to Wayanad was nothing short of miraculous! Surrounded on both sides by dense greenery and occasional plantations it was simply a joy to ride on. The roads were surprisingly good with clearly marked distance information at regular intervals. The stomach was yearning for a glass of hot tea or coffee but on this Sunday morning no shops were open. The visual delights of the route however obviated any hunger pangs from being too evident. Taking deviations from Panamaram and scouting my route through Mananthavady town I finally was on the road leading to Thirunelli, Kuruva Island and Mysore.

As the kilometers went by the scenery became more and more denser and to me , slightly scary. My dear cousin brother had so lucidly warned me about heightened elephant activity in the region and especially about a rogue bull elephant he had apparently seen the previous day. Mindful of the scant chance a biker has of survival when faced against a wild elephant my trepidation was not little especially as I saw masses of bamboo thickets uprooted by the sides of the roads, an act of power which I attributed to the wild elephant herds roaming in these parts of the Nilgiris.

As I took the leftward deviation just after crossing into Karnataka border my senses were more and more heightened. Mindful of every sound, watchful of every corners all the while navigating through heavily cratered Ghat roads it was a tense ride. However in a short while a Tata Indica car overtook me and from then on I stuck to its rear, maintaining position behind it all the way to Thirunelli. An idiot Maruti 800'er did however mar the joy of riding through verdant green forests by repeated honking and even though I repeatedly gave abundant room for him to overtake the prized jackass did not know how to maintain a faster pace nor to overtake.

However as the cratered stretches gave way to some beautiful stretches of smooth roads I built up my speed and enjoyed the scenery abundantly. As I neared Thirunelli I saw the resort my cousin was staying at but decided to stop at the temple first. Parking my bike in front of a row of buses, vans and cars as the lone biker I must have presented a strange figure clad in my armored riding gear and putting a coin in the temple's offering receptacle (Bhandaram).

 After taking a few clicks on my mobile phone I retraced my route to the Agraharam Cottages. The narrow cobbled path down from the road to cottage was extremely slippery and it was only with great concentration that I negotiated my Hunk down the path. Having parked my bike and being escorted to my cousin's cottage I spent some time resting and getting acquainted with three of his colleagues.

After enjoying a welcome cup of tea and sumptuous breakfast we started off on a small trek to a nearby jungle stream. My worn Army boots have zero grip and I am in constant threat of skidding and falling even in the best of pucca tarmac. So imagine my plight as I trekked down the soft and skiddy Wayanadan clay wearing my boots, Fox knee guards and my Cramster K2K 2.0 jacket in a continuously pouring rainfall? After negotiating the downward slope through plantations we negotiated a muddy jeep trail and finally we neared the jungle stream.

The spectacularly beautiful jungle stream had a peculiar kind of bridge spanning across it. From our bank a concrete bridge extended halfway across the river span from where an improvised bamboo bridge connected to the other bank. Our helpful guide informed us that the other half of the concrete bridge was blown away in the previous monsoon in a flashflood in the stream. Sure enough downstream we could see massive concrete boulders broken away by the fury of a stream that was for the moment quite placid. A massive tree was also banked by the remaining half of the concrete bridge providing excellent scenery and also reminding us of the potential force that this stream could assume. As we looked upstream in half horror, half expectation our guide informed that these flash floods come only after about two or three days of continuous rainfall. And it had been raining continuously for at least the past three days that I had spent in Wayanad.


As our more nimble friends went to the other bank and to the forest me and my similarly herculean cousin brother stayed and enjoyed the vistas around us. After a while we trekked a while further up the river bank to visit a jungle resort, a seasonal resort smack in the middle of verdant greenery. The beer bottles arranged in a corner, indicative of recent occupants also brought to mind vastly interesting possibilities for the place.

After some time here we started trekking back to the resort. The going as usual was still more tough for me as the prospect of riding back to Cochin was looming ever largely in front of me. The prospect of skidding was also ever large and a small skid while walking from the Resort's restaurant to the cottage also drove home the fact that my shoes have to be replaced.

At around 11.30 having bid good bye to my cousin and his colleagues I set out on my return ride. My cousin had instructed me to wait for some other vehicle to take the lead but after waiting for a minute by the roadside I decided that this is another moment of casual disobedience and started off. The return ride to the Mysore Highway was even more enjoyable than the ride up after my cousin informed me that all those uprooted bamboo thickets were the work of JCBs the previous day and not elephants as I had so luridly imagined. It was while reaching the junction that I noticed the sign board indicating Kuruva Island - 6 kms. Having come this far, why not a short jaunt! So I revved on up the road to Kuruva Island, a beautiful tarmac and a far cry different from the potholed road to Thirunelli. The steep descent to the Kabini River also added to the thrill of the ride. However the Kabini River had been swollen in the rains and nobody were permitted to the island, whose charms I was and am blissfully unaware of. Having taken a few clicks and a call home to give a status and location update later I set off on my return ride proper.

Having come to Wayanad via the Thamarassery Churam on Day One, I had decided earlier on that I would be returning via the Periya Churam. From Mananthavady, which had gotten far more crowded than it was in the morning I found the Kannur road which goes through the Periya pass.

The farmlands of Mananthavady soon gave way to plantations that dotted the countryside as I followed the beautiful Mananthavady- Kannur road. The rain which had by now slowed down to a drizzle only added to the beauty of the ride as it gave a pleasant undertone to the subdued purring of my Hunk. Stopping for a while near Boy's Town I had some delicious coffee and Ullivada, Parippuvada and Pazhampori from the tea stall.

Having given much needed recuperation to my sore backsides and gotten fresh on the crispy cool mountain air I set off in a brisk pace. Stopping at Periya to buy some tea for home I was soon negotiating the Periya Churam which was dark, green and cool, even at 2 PM in the afternoon. Soon I was riding through the Aaralam forest bracing myself for the plains and its associated humidity which would soon hit me in force and did so from Kannavam. Now I had to remain mindful of the traffic and usual road idiots who make life hellish for any sensible rider. As soon as I left Wayanad District and entered Kannur District roads also started deteriorating in quality. Perhaps it is due to the extreme infestation of Communism and Marxism in Kannur that roads here are so poorly maintained.Perhaps the die hard communists of Kannur wanted to recreate a Road of Bones, the dreaded road which is such a hallmark of Soviet Russian entrepreneurship!

Politics however took a backseat as I reached Thalassery and the hunger pangs became more and more obvious. It was while attending a call from home that I was even aware that the time had been 4 PM! Reaching Mahe after filling the fuel tank to the full I hunted for a good non BAR restaurant while negotiating the extremely horrible roads of the Union Territory. Just out of Mahe I did meet Vineeth Areth a fellow xBHP'ian who was now returning from Wayanad. It was a surprise meeting but soon we were each on our different ways. Loaded up on extra cash at a nearby ATM it was however only at Vadakara that I could have some food. At the Indian Coffee House in Vadakara I had a heavy lupper (lunch-supper) and was soon on the way.

By now my exhaustion was starting to become more pronounced but I had decided that I would reach Cochin.The 250 kilometers to Cochin was a morale buster so I focussed on short hops. First focus was on reaching Calicut and reaching the Calicut bypass before nightfall as that seemed a tricky road to find. At times as I drove through outskirts of Calicut City I feared of having lost my way but eventually before dark fell I reached the junction from where two days earlier we had took the turn to Wayanad. By now my Fox knee guards were biting into my calves with extreme pain and a severe thunderstorm also forced me to lift up my visor fully lest I be blinded by the visor in the tricky dusk light. As in my return ride from Bangalore it was now a race between my endurance and my exhaustion. I started fixing target points to aim for, the first being Kottakkal, a major junction.

Bikers may rule the roads during day time, but at night bikers are at their most vulnerable. Night riding, especially in a land of zero traffic sense where no one EVER dims his head lights is scary in itself but add to that heavy rainfall and extreme exhaustion? Oh yeah, it sure is fun. It is in such times that the rider in me gets the most philosophical. As expounded in my earlier blogs riding is an intensely spiritual and philosophical thing for me. It assures me of my capability to be determined, it assures me of my strength to stand up against adversities, it assures me of my inherent free spirit whose personification is always me, the lone rider. Battered by rains, blinded by headlights and ever fearful of crazy riders I maintained a steely will that no matter what, no matter how late, I will reach home.

As countless villages and towns went by I was praying more and more fervently for Kottakkal to arrive so that I may take a break. When on rides I dont like to stop every now and then. I usually stop only at the edge of pain and exhaustion and always I set targets accordingly. At Kottakkal first I drove into a drive in motel and asked for bike parking. The guard pointed me to a parking spot far to the interior and denied me permission from parking near where several cars where parked. Mentally swearing at the jerk who like most people considered bikers to be second rate citizens and the wagon driven fellows with extreme obsequity, I did not stop long. However a few hundred meters away I saw a Fast Food Joint where I decided to rest for a while. Refreshing myself with some snacks and a leisurely rest later I was back on to the road, with my next destination - Trichur.

The good roads, well positioned reflectors ensured a steady clip to Trichur where for the first time I decided not to take the Pannithadam-Kecheri road and instead drove through Kunnamkulam, a town which normally so crowded was at this time of night, nearly 9.30 PM quite deserted. The rain started picking up intensity and as I drove through Trichur City it was actually blinding. As I drove round the Swaraj Round rain was so heavy that even my blinking was slow enough to remove the water from my eyes and it was actually getting fuzzy to my own eyes. In Trichur that night I must have been the only biker on the roads. In fact as I reached NH47 from Thalore I must have been the only person driving any vehicle with less than 6 tires.

As I reached NH47 however the ride became more relaxed as the 4 and occasionally 6 lane highway enabled me to maintain a steady and fast pace, dodging occasional trucks. The rains had also slacked off by then. On the watch out for any good restaurant to have a dinner I finally stopped at Hotel Crystal Palace near Karayamparambu Junction just out of Angamaly. Refreshed by a warm dinner I was finally on my home run.

I have always maintained an edict that it is always the last few kilometers of any travel that are the most fraught with danger. The exhaustion, the relief and the complacency of being near to home and in familiar roads breeds a lack of caution that is extremely dangerous. Thus mindful I was riding through Kalamassery and Edapally Junction when the question I asked in the beginning cropped up in my mind. I did not answer "YES" immediately neither did I say "NO". A few seconds of soul searching was what it took for me to come up with the answer of "Am I ready and willing to go on a similar ride tomorrow itself?".

The answer was Yes.

In a heartbeat.

Often I had wondered whether my passion for biking and riding was merely a thing of contemplation during times of comfort but at this time I realized that it does not matter to me how bruised, how battered, how exhausted I was, for the sheer pleasure of riding, I am willing to bear it all as part of the game. It was then that I realized that the Wanderlust for me is not a passing flu, but a genetic infestation that would be in my bones forever. It was then that I realized that I was born to ride.

Wayanad Ride - Day Two

Sleep is the ultimate rejuvinator. As I woke up at around 0730 on Saturday, the 25th of June, 2011 all the aches and pains from the last day's riding had vanished and it was with a veritable briskness in step that I went down to the cafetaria for coffee. A refreshing bath also brought me thoroughly into the realm of the awake and now the question prominent on my mind was - "When do we start riding?" "Where are we riding?". Deciding to get ready early I was nearly getting suited up when I suddenly became aware that our stalwart leaders were still sound asleep and there were some more riders from Bangalore who had to reach Bathery.

Time was whiled away getting acquainted with xBHP'ians from other states and also getting to know better my fellow riders from yesterday, but an undertone of impatience to get the Hunk revved up and on road remained.

At 11 o'clock the bikes started coming off their stands as we started getting ready for the ride. As John gave a pre ride brief about our destination being Banasura Dam and information about the lead and sweep bikers, the throttle started growling in impatience to let itself rip on to the Wayanad twisties. Some photo snaps later the G2G ride was on its way as in a line astern formation we took to the roads.

The sheer thrill of riding in formation was something that I had never experienced before. Weaving in and out of traffic like a multi colored fire breathing serpeant our column rode out of Sultan Bathery. Out of the town we really started ripping the roads as even 60s and 70s became a faint memory as even us below 80s started maintaining pace nearing 80. But the 90 plussers became even more far ahead with the formation agreed upon forgotten in the thrill of the ride.

As we passed Kalpetta, the district headquarters of Wayanad, we realized that a group of us have totally lost our way. Stopping by a junction marked towards Ootty and Calicut we stopped to regain our bearings. A few calls to Swas and others later we realized that the route we were on is an alternate route to Banasura Dam, with the main shorter route being through a deviation right in the middle of Kalpetta town. After tanking up our bikes at a nearby fuel station we carried on with the ride to Banasura Dam.

The sights were simply spectacular with the cloud clad mountains providing a scintillating backdrop for our ride. Roads were of superb condition except for patches of craters and reasonable speed could be maintained. As we took the deviation to Banasura dam, however speed was reduced drastically. Curves upon curves brought us to the sight of landslides blocking various parts of the road and the narrow yet good roads were also ever present sources of surprise vehicles coming from the other side. By this time rain also was pouring reducing whatever traction the tyres had. As the rain started getting heavier some of my fellow riders stopped underneath trees or whatever shelters they could find but I kept riding on. Visor half closed, I was truly enjoying the ride in the rain. Monsoon time is when Kerala is at its most beautiful and if you cannot enjoy riding in rain, you are missing Kerala at its best. The speed was barely 40 kmph but I was having the time of my life.

As I reached a trijunction indicating 1.6 kms to Banasura dam, I saw several riders stopped by a tea shop for tea. Resting for some time to get the rain numbed bodies warmed up with Tea and hot banana pakodas and for the dragons amongst us to take the breath of death we pushed on for the short ride to Banasura dam.

At the dam we were faced with the unwelcome fact that the path to the dam can not be rode upon and we had to walk a few heights to reach the dam proper. After debating the pros and cons amongst everyone we finally started walking. Rain, unstable Wayanad clay and my innate clumsiness ensured that I would be at my most concentrated best for the walk. Wearing the riding jacket, the helmet, the gloves, the knee guards and the boots we had to walk a ways to a flight of steps and then navigate several scores of mossy and slipper steps to reach the top of the dam. Sure, I was wearing enough protection to ensure that any fall would not be very damaging but still my awareness of my generously proportioned girth made me walk slowly and steadily to the top.

As I reached the top I let out a yell of triumph for once again conquering heights and believe me for a person of my physique it is a challenge. The rain had not let down so it was with visible trepidation that many of my fellow riders dared to take out their cameras from multi layered cocoon of protection. The brisk wind flowing from the reservoir tempted one to take off the helmet and whenever I did that the head was drenched in the steady rain.

After getting our breath back and thoroughly mesmerized by the scenic vistas we trekked down to the tea stall at the base of the dam. As the group waited for everyone to rejoin I happened to notice a signboard indicating Meenmutty Waterfall, 2kms away. Bored as I was with much walking and no riding I rode out to this destination. The narrow road up to the Meenmutty waterfall was a pleasure of another kind entirely. The narrow rain slick road was of a very steep incline of the type I was encountering after a very long time. Revving up at 2nd and occasionally 1st gear my Hunk climbed up the narrow road going through residential areas presenting additional hazards of its own kind. As I reached the top I was faced with another parking lot and a further path to climb on foot. Compulsorily lazy as I am I did an immediate about turn and rode down to the Banasura Dam. Hearing my account a few other riders set off to visit the waterfalls, which as our friend Naveen described was spectacularly beautiful too, but not more as we started our return ride to Kalpetta where we hoped to find some source for lunch. Little did we know that time has slipped to 4 PM by then.

Return ride to Kalpetta was through the main road and as I followed Swas down the route I realized that the road which I cam in was much better scenically and tarmac wise. Reaching Kalpetta we raided the Hotel Woodlands and thoroughly clogged up its parking areas with our bikes. However the proprietors of the restaurant informed our growling bellies that all food was over. Setting up an agreement to prepare food for 36 riders within 30 minutes we waited our while in wait for the food.

After a barely satiating lunch, one group of riders returned to Bathery and the hotel while another group of us set out to visit the Pookote Lake. Reaching the tourist area smack in the middle of a tropical rain forest setting we were only 15 minutes after the official closing time. However the friendly authorities let us in ( after all they would be making close to 500 rupees in ticket sales in one go!) and we whiled away some time by the lake side watching the returning boats. Some disgusting simian antics and a short walk around the lake later we returned to our rides and as dusk started setting in started our return ride. Thankfully rain was little was we drove down the darkened roads to Sultan Bathery. Speeds maintained at around 65-70 dropped immediately to 50-55 as darkness fell.

As we reached back at our Hotel in Sultan Bathery a slight feeling of anti climax was marring the more joyous memories of the ride. Despite a whole day available for us we were able to ride hardly 125 kms. In many ways the day saw my expectations of a group ride reach its target and at times way below it.

By the time I shed my riding gear I had decided that for this G2G my group ride is over. The next day my return would be solo. I received information that a cousin was staying at a resort in Thirunelly and scouring of Google Maps and suggestions from Praveen and Vineeth made me choose Periya pass as a possible route.

Bone tired I said my good bye to all friends old and new who I met during the G2G. Though the riding aspect of the G2G was disappointing for me, the camaraderie part of getting to meet fellow bikers who share the same passion with you is indeed something that makes all the suffering acceptable. To meet with these band of brothers, to ride with them as a pack, even if it is only for a short kilometers I am now ready to suffer the hardships of group riding.

However be things as it may, the biker in me was still yearning to crunch the miles and wander around on two wheels and thus deciding to do the solo ride back home next day with a "slight" detour I went to sleep early. I missed the group photo sessions but not to worry, my memories of the G2G are seared deep into my soul. Camaraderie and brotherhood are welcome things, but at heart I am a solitary rider and for the ride yet more sacrifices were made.

Wayanad Ride - Day One

Imagine a group of men climbing up Asia's second largest earthen dam clad head to toe in heavy riding gear in continuously pouring rainfall. Imagine going on a trek in wet and unstable Wayanad clay soil while wearing heavy armored jackets and knee guards biting into your legs. Imagine the sheer awesomeness of 30 odd bikes revving past you in line astern formation, all with riders in full safety gear. If this sounds crazy, read no further. If this tickles your fancy, read on, for you, my friend are attuned with the spirit of biking.

The day started for me at around 3 AM as after a fidgety sleep racked by anxiety and thrill for the day's ride I woke and got ready for the ride. Saddle Bag had been backed earlier itself and only last minute stuff remained. As per a call received at around 0415 from Swas I contacted Titus and decided to meet up at North Fort Gate Junction in Tripunithura ( My home town).

The potent for the monsoon ride was quite good as I rode down from home regaled by a light drizzle and in a spirit of things to come our dear friend Titus was late by a few minutes. Together we rode upto the IBP Pump at Edapally, the designated rendezvous from which the plan was to start at 5 AM. 5 AM passed and went and then 6 AM and so forth. Fully decked up in riding gear, a couple of us waited out for the organizers and other riders to come up. A slight electrical fault in Jayamohan brother's Pulsar and an unimaginable wrong turn by Noel Don later we finally started out at around 0745. By now the rain had steadied into a constant affair and the line of 16 odd bikes revving past in the morning air must have brought quite a sense of wonderment in passers by as evident from their slacked out jaws and constant referrals to each of ours' brightly lit head lamps.

Well designed plans had been made earlier for two teams of 8 bikes, but all came to naught as we decided to just go as a group. Even then soon two adhoc teams emerged, the 90 plussers and the 80 minussers, with yours truly in the slower group. Though it had been barely half an hour since we started riding our spirits were quite low as it was giving a true reflection of the status of our own gastric system. Our longing for food was finally addressed as the lead riders stopped at a place near Triprayar called Valapad where we all surprised a little roadside fast food joint with our remorseless hunger. Our sheer joy of smelling food was only matched by the bright twinkle in the manager's eye as he sensed a jackpot morning for his business, a guess he did not have to correct as we all tucked in mightily. Despite rains forcing some of the riders eating outside to run for cover carrying their plates, it was a good meal which energized us for the ride ahead.

Starting again in due order we continued down NH17, the Edapally - Panvel highway which soon got confusing in its route as it went through the towns of Kodungallur and Kunnamkulam. Nearing Chavakkad we decided not to go via the Ponnani route and instead follow NH17 via Kunnamkulam where I distinctly remember me being almost the last in the pack. Riding through steadily falling sheet rain my onus was far less on speed and more on just moving forward and avoid the perils of the maddeningly fast traffic on the Trichur-Calicut stretch. Fully expecting to see the lead riders waiting for us slow turtles at some joint ahead, imagine my surprise at seeing all the 90 plussers coming from my rear!! The equation was totally bonkering for me and was only solved later in the day when we analyzed some crazy traffic snafus at Kunnamkulam which took the 90 plussers on an unnecessary detour.

After regrouping in the middle of the highway in the streams of water we finally set off. The further ride upto Calicut was more or less uneventful except for a point after Kuttipuram where I had to stop and rest for a while owing to a developing cramp in my right thigh. The knee guard I put over my jeans and under my rain pants was really constricting free movements and me and Titus who graciously agreed to wait for me carried on with the ride. Our lunch stop had been at Calicut, through some stretches of rides of which I have barely any recollection due to the pain in my leg. At the NH17 Bypass junction at Calicut we stopped for lunch and met up with the remaining Kerala xbhp'ians like Sreejith Krishnan and Vineeth. After a mediocre lunch and duly refreshed we set out for our final stop for the day, Sultan Bathery in Wayanad. Riding in formation again, we xBHP'ians wove our way in and out through the various speed breakers and traffic on the Calicut bypass road to finally get onto the Wayanad road. The roads went immediately narrower but degraded not at all in terms of tarmac quality. It was a delightful stretch of groovy twisties and stretches of straight to get the revs high. As we neared the town of Adivaram the looming peaks of the Thamarassery Churam (Pass) started intimidating me. I had not had much experience in Ghat roads except for short stretches in the Vazachal - Valparai so imagine my excitement as I reached the first of nine hair pin curves on this mountain pass made legendary in the anecdotes of a late comedian of malayalam movies, Kuthiravattam Pappu. The roads were severely cratered, at certain instances I really feared for my tyres as the rubble and exposed rocks were sharp to tear huge chunks out of the rubber. Thanks to the Almighty nothing spoiled our fun. Resting for a moment after the ninth hair pin we took some pictures and resumed our ride. The ride henceforth was again eventful as we negotiated the comparatively milder twisties of Vythiri, Kalpetta and Meenangadi on the approaches to Sultan Bathery.  As dusk started approaching our various aches and sores started being more evident but before dusk we reached Sultan Bathery and after a short snafu on my part for being over reliant on Google Maps we finally reached our halt camp for the G2G, Issac's Hotel Regency. Getting off the bike had been hard but the beds in the room were extremely soft and comfy. After a sumptuous meal where we utilized the utmost and almost bankrupted the hotel for the buffet we went to sleep with the memories of the ride tantalisingly fresh in our mind and hopes and expectations for the next day's ride teasing us away from sleep. Our fellow xBHP'ians from Coimbatore had arrived and riders from Bangalore were expected in the morning. Thanks to the resourcefulness of ever wise Lijok, our nerves were smoothed by generous measures of the Royal Uncle's Medicine and Mallya's Finest.

Thus ended day one of the Inter State Get ToGether, Wayanad a day of much frustrations and ultimately much joy for me, a novice group rider.

Fanatical Activism

Today we are blessed with a society which is getting progressively more and more aware of various issues and its impacts. A generation of youth with an acute sense of social responsibility are out there being activists of various causes. Be it Democracy, Anti Corruption, Environment, anything, today we have champions for these causes spreading awareness on these issues. In many ways these youth are very much like the bards and ascetics of the past.
In our hallowed history several are the movements that were nurtured and carried forward by these wandering bards and activists, who forsaking the luxuries of a settled life lived a nomadic life with their sole aim being the spreading of their cause. It may be heroic and noble tales of some particular king or warrior or it may be the advocacy of a certain set of beliefs and values. Either way they were activists spreading the word of social awakening. While these bards and ascetics had to mostlt resort to the fabric of religion to portray their causes, today's activists are no longer shackled by such limitations.
However there is one thing that today's activists forget when advocating their causes : logic and reason. Of late I have been involved in several discussions with activists which have all invariably turned heated. Some how the Bush diktat of "Either you are with us, or against us" has been adopted as the war cry by these activists. These activists in their extreme exuberance forget that their causes get tarnished when they resort to such narrow minded attitudes.
Personally I am the farthest you can ever be from being a person of social conscience. I do not think I have any philanthropic tendencies, I also find selfless activism to be distasteful as far as I am concerned. I would be the last person you would see giving alms to a beggar. My life revolves around myself, my family, my friends in an expanding radius of diminishing value attributed. Frankly it is because I can not afford to do anything else. How can I fend for the well being of some distant tribals in some distant village or some endangered forest or the freedom of some unjustly punished person when my own immediate environs is far from secure? Yes, it is a an extremely conceited world view but also one reason I genuinely admire activists who throw away shackles of career or any routine luxuries for the advocacy of their beliefs. In fact  I consider myself to be the perfect layman, the sort of person these activists ought to convince for their advocacy to be a success.
But that is precisely where these new generation activists fail. Recently I had been part of a discussion on the Jaitapur Nuclear Park controversy. An esteemed activist, who was my junior in college started the discussion on the evils of nuclear power. Rightly so I concurred with him on the perils of nuclear power but also said about how we dont have any alternative.  I pointed out to him that of the energy sources in the world 65% of power is derived from thermal sources (coal and oil), 20% from nuclear power and only around 15% from renewable power of which a lion's share is provided by hydroelectric power and less than 0.1% by solar power and wind power. The activist friend of mine was of the opinion that development ought to be sacrificed for the sake of cleaner environment. There the contention ensued which resulted in him calling me a troll for "refusing to understand" the dangers of nuclear power and me ultimately cutting off contacts with him for the douchebaggery.
Then there was the other environmental activist friend who considered loss of human lives an acceptable price to pay for environmental protection. He did realize in time that fanatism in his advocacy had caused his aims which are extremely philanthropic in nature to be advocated as extremely misanthropic.
The point however remains, what merit is there in the advocacy that we should stop development? How much credence can we give to such statements made by people who are unaware of the part electric power plays in their daily lives? I mean how much longer would it take for the 0.1% to supplant the 20%? Meanwhile these activists want to condemn the very people whose well being they are advocating to arrested development. Dont they realize that healthcare, communication, transportation - all these facilities that are every day improving the lives of thousands of unprivileged are all through power? Will these activists dare to go for a month without any dependancy on electric power -  and that includes not using any product made by electricity too. I wont call them arm chair activists, because they do go out there and preach, but do these urban activists really realize what rustic hardships really mean?
Even in the latest Jan Lokpal issue, fanatic supporters of the Lokpal bill consider any person expressing a difference of opinion as a supporter and promoter of the systemic corruption. Thousands of people have mobilized all over India to support the Jan Lokpal bill, unfortunately not even 0.1% of them might have really understood its implications. Those of us who challenge its terms and question its efficiency are labelled "unpatriotic". Meh. Screw them! After all it is because they do not have reason and logic to back up their claims that they are getting caustic!
Basically I have only one thing to tell to my activist friends - learn from the bards and ascetics. Those activists from the past, who have been instrumental in such social changes as the propagation of Ashoka's diktats, the social awakenings brought upon through Buddhism, Jainism, Hinduism, Christianity and Islam achieved their causes not by antagonizing the lay persons through fanatic preaching but by engaging them with logic and reason. I hope that my activist friends, at least those who are in it as a life's work and not just a fashion fad, would consider this advice strongly.

If not you would end up causing the greatest ever harm to the cause you are propagating.

Jan Lok Pal Bill - Glaring Idiocies

Really sad to see the hype of Jan Lokpal Bill that has enthralled our nation in a Pied Piper effect.

Having read the broad ambits of the Jan Lokpabl bill that is being promulgated by Anna Hazare, Shanti Bhushan and others, there are some very massive questions which are left unanswered and even unquestioned.

1. The claim that every investigation would be conducted within one year.

Crime investigation, especially anti corruption investigation does not happen with magic. There is a great deal of investigative effort required. If EVERY case registered in an year is to be fully investigated in an year itself, there would be the need for a massive bureaucracy that would trump ANY existing bureaucracy. Such a vast bureaucracy would have its own corruption and slow downs.

2. The claim that every case would be brought to trial and trial completed within one year. 

How is Jan Lokpal going to accomplish this without massively increasing the numerical strength of our judiciary and its support staff? Is this claim anything more than absolute hogwash?

3. The proposal that Lok Pal would consist of a committee of equal numbers of elected politicians and equal number of civil society luminaries and a Lok Pal / National Ombudsman who would be the Chairman of Committee and would be a civil society representative.

Who selects the Civil Soiety luminaries? The elite choosing the next of the elite? And what is the criterion for being these civil society luminaries? Nobel laureate? Bharat Ratna? These are not awards of statesmanship. Can an Einstein govern a nation? No. People who are good at one thing should not ever be considered to be experts at everything else. If it happens, they crash and burn, for eg: Manmohan Singh and his reputation.

Now some of my own questions:

1. What is there to ensure that there wont be corruption in Lok Pal and Lok Ayukta?

There are allegations aplenty that the Lok Ayukta of Karnataka, the much exalted Ombudsman, Santhosh Hegde is quite unparalleled in his levels of corruption. Let us not forget that Supreme Court, that last bastion of hope for our people has been recently been exposed for its corruption in the form of the scandals involving Retd SC Judge KG Balakrishnan. This corruption has more or less resulted from the ZERO accountability. This Lok Pal would be even less accountable to the people of India. 

2. What after Anna Hazare and the pious brigade?

The present leaders of Lok Pal movement are without doubt pillars of integrity. Anna Hazare, Kiran Bedi, Sri Sri Ravi Shankar etc. However what would happen to the institution of Lok Pal once these people with proven stature are no more? Our nation is not one of a single generation. Its institutions have to last for generations. Depending on the piety and integrity of its members have brought failure to many institutions like US Constitution and of course our own Constitution.

The supremely intelligent Constitution drafted by BR Ambedkar was soon corrupted and eroded by Nehru and sycophants, a fact which we should never forget in the context of Lok Pal . Any human institution is vulnerable for corruption, even one as unaccountable as this one.

3. So what to do to stop corruption?

Nothing. Corruption would never be eliminated in entirety, we can just reduce it and increase its deterrence. We have a good theoretical model that is very poorly implemented. What we need a systemic overhaul. What we are suffering is not a tumor in one area but a disease that has spread throughout the body. We dont need an instrument of cauterization, what we need is an effective medicine that would burn out the disease from the entire body. We need a profound change in our political system, a change which I do not know how to bring about.

Urumi - A review

Yesterday along with two friends I went to watch Urumi - the new epic saga film made by Sangeeth Sivan. Having gone with lots of expectations some of them attained fruition, while some measure of disappointment had been there too.

The starting minutes of the movie were simply superb. The styles of narration, the way the movie went to the flashback were simply superb. However as the movie progressed on jarring fault within the movie became more and more evident - TOO MUCH SONGS. It seems there is a song whenever a character sneezed! There is also a song when the character is not sneezing! Some of the characters were totally unnecessary like Vidya Balan's supposed role as a mystical Mukkom, a devi deity who in an oracle like fashion prods the hero towards greatness. Despite the prophecy not becoming true at all, the even worse part is the totally unnecessary song and dance number created just so that the audiences could be horrified at the sight of a swerving and gyrating Vidya Balan in some feeble imitation of erotic dancing. The video work is good, songs are passable, but the horror of Vidya Balan's dances? The Mukkom prophesied that the hero, Kelu would become the King of Chirakkal and his friend Vavvaali would become the General of armies, two prophecies which never came into fruition.

Overall in hindsight the plot is pretty good, because 8 hours after you watch the movie, especially after a sleep which helps forget the greatest horrors one is left with only the better memories of the movie. The usual ideological hero uniting the masses battling oppression, the son growing up seeking vengeance on the murder of his son, the usual treacheries and backstabbing of power, the reformed despot being murdered off just when he turns benign, frankly these kind of plot twists are quite a plenty in Indian cinema. However the redeeming part is the role played by Genelia D'Souza, that of the Arakkal Princess, Aysha. The role she portrayed was a fresh one and it was quite well played by her. Her fight scenes were an absolute visual delight.

The hero, Kelu Nayanar portrayed by Prithviraj starts out as an ideological warrior who is out on a quest of vengeance. One of the biggest ideologies he spouts quite frequently is that "women and children are never to be harmed." This ideology even caused him to let a pregnant rabbit go free, because she was carrying children. But this however did not cause him to raise a finger of protest as the Arakkal Palace was sacked by his "allies" nor when the womenfolk of Arakkal were brought as sex slaves to the Chirakkal Palace. Sure he rescued some women but references to some women already being distributed as bounty to the victorious soldiers of Chirakkal bring out the hollowness in the hero's ideology. Despite knowing pretty well the heinous intentions of the Chirakkal King and the paedophilic inclination of the Chirakkal Prince towards a little girl from Arakkal family, the hero watches on mutely. Is his silent refusal not to partake in the spoils offered by the King his idealism? Or should he have as a true leader protected these women? The fact that the "hero" was spurned into saving these hapless women only after the little girl was brutalized by the Prince further renders asunder the hero's credentials.

Apart from this huge flaw in plotline rest of the movie is more or less good. The battle scenes are reminiscent of the movie "300" and quite well taken too. Technically this movie is impeccable. Nearly the two hour mark of watching the movie one also realizes that this movie could very well be an advertisement for Yoga. Every single thing these guys do is through some stylized yoga or kalari posture. Sure some dances could be choreographed through this manner, but every single song and dance number? At one point it stops being charming and becomes seriously irritating. Context, my dear sirs, context.

Plot wise another thing of note is the historical references. The references are quite well researched and despite not being very knowledgeable about Kerala History, I am impressed. There are several references to the Kingdom of Cochin or Perumbadapppu Swaroopam, and of the Cheraman Perumal legend.

It is here that I find myself ideologically opposed to the premise of the story. The Perumpadappu Swaroopam has been portrayed unflatteringly as lackeys of Portuguese. Sure Perumpadappu is best known for its diplomacy but its success is principally because of the onus on Raja Dharma. The first and foremost consideration for any ruler is the well being of his citizens. For the well being of the citizens any amount of compromise by the ruler personally is acceptable. When weak seek alliances, when strong project power - that is the rule of statecraft. Ideologies like protecting of the weak, abolishment of excessive taxation etc can only be followed if one has the power to enforce it. Otherwise it would be a myopic vision.

Sure the premise of this movie is popular, weak uniting against oppression but at the end of the day the lesson I would take from this story is that the silly ideologue is dead, those who placed trust in his myopic vision crushed, but Perumpadappu and those who bet on it for survival lasting prosperously through the centuries.


At the end of the day, Urumi is a must watch movie. With exceptional cinematography this is a movie of unparalleled technical brilliance in Malayalam cinema. Reasonably well taken, reasonably well laid and reasonably well casted, this movie is worth watching in a cinema theater, at least for the sheer visual and sound effects of it. Here is to the hope that in his next movie Sangeeth Sivan directs there would be less masala content and more substance!

Cheers!