Saturday, August 21, 2010

On the road again - Day 1




The April hot air was cold at 0430 hours in Jharsuguda when I and Abir kick-started my Thunderbird for the longest journey that we had planned till date. His quota to drive in the smooth SH10 was receding as fast as the morning replacing the dawn. By the time, the first rays hit the face of Oriya roads, we were in Sambalpur. Sambalpur is famous for Sambalpuri silk sarees, which are a one of its kind in the nation. Sambalpur being an important junction connects Bhubaneshwar on NH42, Mumbai via Raipur on one limb of NH6 and Kolkata via Keonjhar on the other limb while Jharsuguda on SH10. 10km further on from Sambalpur on NH6 towards Raipur one finds the vociferous Mahanadhi getting banked on the humungous Hirakud Dam. Known for its magnanimous structure, Hirakud dam is the world’s largest earthen dam with the walls running in for 30km connecting Burla and Hirakud town. Standing atop, it feels to be wavering along the ocean with no boundaries.

Refilling our wallets with a few grands, half of what we were expected to have by 20th of the month also and the fuel tank with Speed Petrol, we had imagined to hit the 120kmph mark at ease on NH42. Abir not letting go of the rider’s seat, our usual count of swapping the seats was increased to 100km keeping the magnitude of the journey in mind. Updating my FB status to the current happenings, I knew that by the time my friends logged into FB, I would have reached my destination comfortably. The scenic beauty of the hills on the right hand side and farms on the left hand side left us dazed about the place through which we were travelling. At 100km from Jharsuguda we reached Charmal, a place specifically needs the mentioning. We took a break and ordered the nation’s best beverage to rejoice – Chai. We had mistakenly parked the 200kg monster in the muddy service lane and it took a while for us to bring it back on to NH42. Kick it with all might and it won’t start. After 10 minutes of desperate kicking, the bird refused to budge. We identified the problem with spark plug, but the engine was too hot to be meddled with. After half an hour of rest, with help from the Chai-dukaan, we got hold of Sankara, the mechanic. He opened the twin-spark that always made the trouble, cleaned it with the Speed Petrol and roared the engine. As a blessing in disguise for him, 50 bucks transferred hands without the required amount of work being done.
I started the engine and the April heat was getting on to us. Abir carrying a decent amount of luggage, I was the culprit with carrying a huge back-pack inspired by the song “Aaromale”. The entire blame was not on me as I was carrying Abir’s HDD as well. Finding it difficult to carry and maneuver, we stopped the bike and were making the make-shift arrangements to reduce our burden. Finally, finding a solution to it, we put the back-pack on the fuel tank and cruised away. When it was 0900 hours, we had cruised 250km to Angul to stop for our breakfast. The stoppage at Charmal had badly hit our average speed, calculated to just 60kmph. We removed our helmets, our elbow and shin guards, paused our music players and ordered Upma for breakfast, which being a favorite of Abir. We planned our next course to reach our destination with a better average speed so that we were able to make up for our loss. After applying the necessary sunscreens and putting back the armory on, we left Angul on the same NH42. Angul, known for Naxalites and National Aluminium Company is one of the fine industrial cities of Orissa. With more number of thermal powerplants coming up in the vicinity, the Naxal movement is taking a head-on clash with the blessed, fighting for the unprivileged. One observation worth mentioning is that the roads of Angul have improved a lot since our last trip. The clutters were removed and dancing jacks had been replaced by roads of NH standards.
When we were nearing Dhenkanal, there was a huge line of vehicles on the left hand side. Trucks, buses, cars, bullock-carts, were lined one after the other. We thought a railway gate that we could not remember of, was closed. But, that would not mean to stop vehicles for a 20km stretch. Reading into the situation, there was chaos as well. There were unsettling nerves about something tragic that had happened. Not again, we thought. We could hardly accelerate above 30kmph and reached a place where there was absolute chaos with tyres being burnt with animosity in the air as fuel. The police officer controlling the situation was looking directly at us and was calling us towards him. We did not know anything, we are simple bikers caught in a myriad haywire. Gathering courage, we biked towards the officer to find that he has made way for bikes in the zone to pass. Salute him, I thought. The whole mishap was about a bike ramming into a truck and there was heavy bloodshed. A furor was created as the person belonged to the nearby village and the road-services were disrupted. Thanks to the officer, we saved some 4 hours to circumvent the situation. On the other side of the accident, we saw the same line of trucks, buses, cars, bullock-carts and bikes stranded for 25km on the right side of the road. With the sun-streaming down on us, my tanned forearms called for a hydration break.
We reached Dhenkanal and moved swiftly through the hot whirlwind and reached Cuttack at 1300 hours and took the mighty NH5 of the Golden Quadrilateral. Speed mellowed down due to traffic, Abir felt difficulty in driving as we almost skidded past a truck that was going mayhem. Tempers and frustration rising between us mainly due to the heat, both of us displayed tremendous control in not yelling at each other. May be that is what the hot shopfloors of Vedanta has taught us - To remain cool when the situation and the ambience is hot. We reached Bhubaneswar at 1400 hours, scouted a hotel and refreshed. The conditioned air and the cold orange-flavored Glucon-D did some good to us. We later went to the Royal Motors to collect back our Insurance papers and visited our favorite restaurant – Tangerine and had a sumptuous meal. Searching for Lassi in the capital of Orissa, the salty ones tasted yuck although Abir had two of them. We later reached our hotel and dozed off. A true CSK fan in me woke up at the right time to watch the IPL Semi-Finals which CSK won against DC. The first day of the huge bike cruise was over. An arduous bike trip that was ahead of us the next day, taunted us, even in the dreams. 

Monday, August 16, 2010

The In-dependence day




The last time I celebrated my Independence Day was on the 9th June, 2010 and my country’s Independence Day on the obvious date of 2003. As a school boy, marching with the pluck-card of “Vivekananda House”, I listened to a gravitating speech by person, whose name I do not remember, but, he was from an organization called Alma Mater. My vocabulary was at horrifying levels that I did not even understand the meaning of Alma Mater. But, the speech was in simple English that I understood. It was a speech that ignited the spirit of “I can” in me. I can, I can and I just did the opposite. Fared badly in the 12th boards, screwed up the JEE and the other EEs as well.

The next Independence Day of 2004, I found myself attending a quiz (Ragging?? Rectification??) in a place some 2000km away from my home. The dogma of marching a parade and the head of the institute hoisting the National flag was unconventionally replaced by the quizzes that we underwent. The whole agenda of gleefully singing the National Anthem which was written just 60km from where I was being quizzed came as a slap on my face (pun intended).
The next Independence Day of 2005, I was awakened by a few juniors singing the National Anthem outside my door and who were quizzed after the show. After the formal introduction, a yawning me went outside my hostel to see hoards of juniors returning after the parade. A new convention was started that year to hoist the flag. I vowed a breakable vow to attend the ceremony next year without fail.
Independence Day of 2006 was no better. There were more juniors and being in the pre-final year gave me more autonomy to dictate things. Not because I was in pre-final year, but, because, I was residing in a final years’ wing. There were different versions of the 52-second starched-chest-high-head-proud-anthem with the length of it variably varying with the geography of India. Pushed the breakable vow to the Independence Day of 2007, which will be my final year at the place. So, I had to attend it. Then the day came and I was cozily sleeping in my bed, without any of my wing-mates’ disturbance. I think we had a party the last night, with an afore-seen fact that the next day is going to be a dry-day.
2008, Independence Day was on a weekly-off day. Working in shifts had my off shifted to Friday than the normal beings’ Sunday. The village where I was working in had a new or the first supermarket opened. Flocking with a couple of colleagues, I bought my daily accessories (brand of my choice actually) after put into a jail for two months. When my Independence Day will come from this place was the thought that extended to infinity.
Surprisingly, for the Independence Day of 2009, I had booked my tickets to the place where I was physically present on the Day from 2004 to 2007. I was merrily spending on shopping thinking that the big bucks will stop one-day and my breakable vow remained broken. I did not wake up the parade for the fourth time out of the given four chances. Independence meant Freedom and I had it with me then. The real freedom to say yes for the thing you want to.
It was 0400 hours when my mom woke me up on the 15th August 2010. A couple of text messages wishing me “Happy Independence Day” with a text-drawing of the nation. I thought how superbly they have included the whole of Jammu & Kashmir and Arunachal Pradesh in it without knowing the real state of affairs. After my Sehri, I slept off and woke up around 0800 hours to find my cousin brother getting ready to leave for the flag hoisting at his college. It rang some bell in me. The guy with the freedom in me has changed over the years. While fasting in the holy month of Ramadhan, I realized, this is how millions of Indians feel 365 days a year, although their lives. The mental agony of hunger and thirst haunts them day and night. Irrespective of millions of tons of food grains rotting waste at the mega-warehouses of FCI, the responsible government still imports food grains and increase the deficit. They won’t even distribute the rotting grains for free to the unprivileged. With millions swindled in the name of Wealth that was supposed to be Common, with Indian Rupee getting a new face, with Communist East India fighting the Fascist West India, both of whom are against the secular North India with a completely intangible South India, lest we forget the North-East limb of Mother India.
Independence did not bring order but chaos. Only if we would have been a little more patient, the Englishmen themselves would have granted us the Independence without all the bloodshed. Nothing against the martyrs, who laid down their lives! As an Indian I salute them. On the contrary, is this is what they wished their country to be after 63 years of Free State?