Road Trip : The Nandi Hills

"Time compels us to move into the future. But sometimes the past is so brilliant that it forces us back to reflect on the glorious times that have gone by"

She was whispering in my ear something in her soft luscious juicy voice, but a loud bell was ringing and I couldn’t hear it clearly. It was sound of my phone gyrating which fully awoke me at 3 am in the morning while Kareena Kapoor was still oscillating in the orchard of my dreams. I reluctantly opened my eyes, not wanting to let go my dream. It was my roommate, Duke, hyperventilating in his office; reminding that we had planned a trip to the hills just three hours back and thundered to come and pick him from his office. Angry at having my dream interrupted, I asked whether all of them had woken up. While I was about to employ one of the excusing juices from my cerebrum, he in his goaded voice asked me to check out myself. Unable to abate The King’s command, I mutedly said Thy will be done!

I went to Bubey’s room and not to my surprise found both Mehta and Bubey (with his mouth open) sleeping. Then I went to Farty’s room and found him rubbing his eyes in half laid back position while Dhanno was missing. It was Dhanno’s master-slave unplanned plan to go to the hills. He somehow persuaded Duke to cut short his night shift so that we can have altogether of three bikes. Farty had bought a second hand black Pulsar just a day before by selling his Activa and was as excited as any child getting two stars stick on his homework.

In a Schrödinger state, I went straight for the morning pilgrimage to the bathroom but found Dhanno neighing to relieve his morning pressure. I knocked at the bathroom door. A flurry "Oh F*** Bh***** " came out vibrating through the door as if he had verbal diarrhea. "Kaun hai be? dusre wale me ja"
Having a good head on my shoulder, I decided not to reciprocate the ‘Morning Pravachan’ and quietly went to the next one whose door latch doesn’t have frequent intercourses. Dhanno, a talented guy from amchi Mumbai, starts his normal day abusing Farty for waking him early and ends after he has abused Farty to sleep in the night. One more epaulette which he carries broadly on his shoulder is of rechristening Dubey to Bubey (spelling mistake is intentional ;-)

We picked up Duke from his office. All six characters were set to experience the unity between the abstraction of mind and reality of nature. There were two more characters that traveled with us to cover the Distance of 50 kms: Time & Speed. We have to reach before the sun rise to see the sun rise.

Our Cheetah Bikes, insatiated with fuel, burped into life, purred and leaped onto the smooth road as I preferred to ride as pillion to extract a little more sleep.
We calculated the speed to make sure distance is covered within time. We unanimously agreed at minimum of 90 km/hr. Never been things we learned in school were so helpful.

We started meandering the road and rendering the air speedily as I entrusted my life to the very able hands of Bubey. A wedge of dying moonlight was consorting us. A chilled zephyr of revelry was blowing through the streets. The larceny of the wind was convulsing; perhaps checking the tolerance level of my body. Celerity was the word of the night. The velvet of night was quickly fading with smoke of the morning as we speedily motored to the bottom of the hills.

If Rome sleeps on seven hills then Bangalore wakes up to Nandi hills. My pilot, the unhurried Bubey, was taking me on a breath taking journey. If riding is an art then negating a U turn every second is called prowess. We started circling the mountain by road and saw new dimensions of the landscape at every curve. The primary right of any bike rider is to give acceleration with as much force as he presses the brake in quick succession, everytime giving a mini heart attack to the pillion specially when negotiating myriads of steep U turns.
The hill was painted in every variation of brown color with greenery as extra toppings. Beyond the edge, at vertigo dip, were smorgasbords of alacritous trees perfumed by the environment, their leaves dancing to the tune of the winds.

Here I am delighted to present my favorite quote
"Is pleasure enhanced by environment?
Yes, it’s like love; Looks are not essential but they always help"

If Celerity was word of the night then Serenity was the word of the morning. After reaching the top, we were consumed by the experience. A sharp cold breeze welcomed us outside as we parked our vehicles. Silver cotton clouds of a pale winter morning sky appeared as we went to the fenced edge of the hill. The blue sky had fully absorbed the moonlight to pave way for the oncoming Sunrise. The Sun began to emerge symmetrically gloating in a kind of holy triumph, ripping apart the fabrics of the cloud. Divine Beauty!! The highest admiration I could express was a Wow!!
The sui generis natural sight would have allured painters and poets like a magnet to shower the paeans.

My eyes’ diaphragm adjusted to focus on another beautiful sight. A young girl stood leaning behind the railing. If Time has given her perfect dimensions then destiny has given her a formidable partner. Talking of dimensions, these days Girls have mastered the art of perfection in deflection with the ingenious wicked invention of Pushup Bra. If female pain is "I so want to have breasts like her" then male bewilderment is when Pushup Bras jumps up to greet howdy while men hypothalamus (main part of a brain) starts swimming in a sea of testosterone.

With minimal makeup, classy accessories, chunky metallic bracelet and a pair of high heels, she displayed enthusiasm with beaming smile while her paramour was wearing a jacket in more colors than a rainbow would dare to advertise. If you consider the world to be an oyster then she was a pearl in it and destiny had strewed that pearl before a porcupine haired wrestler. With caption of “don’t fool with me” in his eyes, motioning of his palm would have brought emotions on all the six pairs of eyes we had. The best service he could have provided her was lip service but instead he was holding her bags and cardigan. Pity!!

Mehta came running, bearing in hand his symbol of power and my weakness: Camera. Only self obsession can derail a world class mind from adoring beauty. We clicked and clicked till the mechanical device ran out of memory. We hollered, we jumped, and punched the air in exhilaration.

I stood on the summit, legs planted wide apart, shrieked in the sky, remembering the powerful past, injured present and extrapolating the future based on my dreams but the echo only came back spiking.

Alas time melts so quickly.