its me!!

“Where is Nubra?” “Nubra is going on since 40 km!” We were eight friends, traveling in Laddakh. Four of us took-on Laddakh-ian roads on Bullet. Other four took a 4-wheeler. We were to visit a camp in Nubra Valley. After several kilograms of Maggi and numerous litres of tea, we were nowhere near our actual plan. We thought Nubra Valley was a place where our camps were laid. Khardung-La was last where we met our friends. That was several hours ago. We decided to continue our journey. Till that fateful junction, there was only one road. T-point is not good for travellers. We stopped there to decide which direction was the right direction. After 30-minutes discussion, we took the road which showed “Agham – 24 km”. Like T-point, assumption is also not good for travellers. We assumed that Agham was a town where we would find our camps and be reunited with our friends. I never missed my friends more. Riding towards Agham, we came across the best views of our trip – and

The  narrow roads of Mumbai were narrowed down further by the congregation which was going to immerse Ma Durga  into the sea. I could see nothing but human heads, hear nothing but the medley of tunes, loud and crass, smell nothing but the mix of  gulal  and fumes, feel nothing but sweat on my brow, and taste nothing but bitterness, when I noticed a man fervidly helping people to make their way through this madness. He smiled at me. I wondered why Mumbai is considered the rudest city on earth. I smiled back – feeling – everyone is welcome in Mumbai, at his own risk. * This article was   included in the anthology on writers and their inspiration, The "I" Word.

Do you have an INR 20 note? On the reverse side of Gandhiji, do you see a Light house, a hill and a beach? The name of the hill is Mount Harriet, the name of the beach is North Bay Beach and they are located in Andaman, which I visited and fell madly in love with the place and its people.  There are few direct flights to Port Blair. Mine was a connecting flight from Mumbai to Chennai and then to Port Blair. My friend, who was accompanying me, joined me directly at Port Blair. Flight from Chennai to Port Blair was almost uneventful, except that for the first time I was surrounded by only madrasis (South Indians). They spoke in a language which was, well… madrasi to me. “If you board a flight from Ahmedabad to Mumbai, it feels as if you have arrived in Gujarat itself. The moment the flight moves, everyone starts talking to everyone else. The tiffins start to open, and you are engulfed by the smell of khakhra, fafda and other Gujarati dishes”, someone once told me. The ex

“Are you from Mumbai?” “Yes”, I said. “We have seen you so many times. Every time we see you, it is like – ‘OK so we see him again.’” He looked impressed with me. I was wearing a biker’s jacket, boots and despite my spectacles, the bandana did the trick. Or so I believe. I smiled at his statement. “So you drove your bike all the way from Mumbai? This is impressive.” Guhagar was my first “proper” bike trip. Before this I had a few but Guhagar trip was the first conscious trip that I made. Plus it was close to 300 km, and I was the solo rider. The bike trip had more elements than were apparent. I was going there on the New Year. There were varied reactions from people whom I told about it. “Wow! It will be great.” “Really! You sure? 300 km is too risky, that too on a highway on bike.” “It does sound exciting though riding alone for such a distance is little unsafe, don’t you think so?” “What’s party scene at Guhagar?” I had many reasons to travel. First, and the