The best thing after a long ride happens when I lie in my bed, and the sounds and visuals of the trip subdued in the unconscious starts to pop up. That sound of evening sea in a lone beach and the voice of that beast made like a gun are playing in my mind in loops. The day before the ride I had a discussion with my friends and majority of them was skeptical about a ride through that part of ghats where the roads will be ruled by a scorching sun and a destination that doesn't have anything to offer other than some barren land.
I chose this ride for the sake of this ride. May be I wanted to get detached from my comfort zone or it may be the curiosity of the kid inside me for the new toy.
Majority of the time we spend on roads, the ones through lush green woods, the ones where pandi Lorrie's wait to get cleared by the excise people, the ones where we had to halt for the people who don't exactly knows the difference between a road and a footpath!. I wished I had one more middle finger to greet those arrogant drivers in bulky SUV's that almost killed me in their rash driving.
I was such immersed in the ride that my stomach even forgot to send hunger signals to the brain. All that was going on my mind was to reach the bridge of pamban before sunset. Riding is an act of meditation, deeply focused on the road ahead, concentrating on the voice of bullet. Thoughts keep knocking, lingering between past and future and its the bump ahead or the dog jumping to the road that calls to the present.
I was overwhelmed when it started pouring unexpectedly and we were not sad even though we couldn't find a roof in the highway. That rain drops acted as burnol plus for our deeply fried epidermis. I really felt Paulo Coelho was damn sure when he wrote about the conspiracy of nature.
During the snacks time in a remote village,I asked the young shopkeeper and his friend regarding the arrest of their CM and the politics in their land. I was both happy and sad when he replied that all the leaders and their offsprings in both parties should be burnt alive. His concern and helplessness for the people and their land was evident when he said that the two major parties won't do any good for them and wouldn't allow a third party to do anything.
Even though my co rider insisted me to maintain a speed of 80kph in order to meet our schedule, I enjoyed the ride at its best on 70kph. When I get bored of listening to the playlist in mobile phone I started singing loudly in my own way.
Our destination was a place that always rose my curiosity. The fishermen families still living in that ghost tip without electricity and access to shops even after long years since the deadly cyclone that took lives of hundreds who lived in that land which once was a town. It was there that Swami Vivekananda landed after his great speech of Chicago.
It is my unfulfilled dream to stay in that ghost tip in a full moon night witnessing the density of stars, and our hemisphere lit by moon , I can imagine that now but i know it will be beyond descriptions to experience that in real. I think I would witness something very strange there at that time. Sometimes intuitions meets reality .
And the best part in this journey happened just before our return ride in a lone beach stuffed with pine trees, located somewhere in the eastern part of the dhanushkodi strip. This was purposefully chosen. I always liked sea shores where I can't spot another human being there and that too during the dusk. My favorite job will be to lie down near the sea, my head pointing towards it and view the sea upside down. It may look weird but I guarantee the fish-eye visual will be amazing, and if you keep your eyes closed for some time then you feel the waves penetrating your head.
While riding back in the star filled night amidst the whitish salt fields I remembered the conversation that I had with Laxmi, the old woman selling sea shells at dhanushkodi. She had 5 kids, all of them married and left her in that ghost town , but she hesitates to leave that land, reasons unknown. During the 1964 cyclone she was at Ceylon,where she was married, later she had to come back to Tamil land due to the militant issues. I asked her why people are fighting at Srilanka?
Laxmi : We are tamilians, they are Sinhalese.
Me : what's the difference, do you speak different language?
Laxmi : No, our origins are different.
Me : Means?
Laxmi : ( Smiles)
Me : Do you have different gods?
Laxmi : Yes, we pray Shiva, they pray Buddha.
Me : So are gods responsible for this problems?
She smiled in a way that she agrees my question.
As we approached the windmills, it was past 2 am, and the cool wind was embracing us telling to reduce the speed. I checked the speedometer and ensured it was 70kph.
I chose this ride for the sake of this ride. May be I wanted to get detached from my comfort zone or it may be the curiosity of the kid inside me for the new toy.
Majority of the time we spend on roads, the ones through lush green woods, the ones where pandi Lorrie's wait to get cleared by the excise people, the ones where we had to halt for the people who don't exactly knows the difference between a road and a footpath!. I wished I had one more middle finger to greet those arrogant drivers in bulky SUV's that almost killed me in their rash driving.
I was such immersed in the ride that my stomach even forgot to send hunger signals to the brain. All that was going on my mind was to reach the bridge of pamban before sunset. Riding is an act of meditation, deeply focused on the road ahead, concentrating on the voice of bullet. Thoughts keep knocking, lingering between past and future and its the bump ahead or the dog jumping to the road that calls to the present.
I was overwhelmed when it started pouring unexpectedly and we were not sad even though we couldn't find a roof in the highway. That rain drops acted as burnol plus for our deeply fried epidermis. I really felt Paulo Coelho was damn sure when he wrote about the conspiracy of nature.
During the snacks time in a remote village,I asked the young shopkeeper and his friend regarding the arrest of their CM and the politics in their land. I was both happy and sad when he replied that all the leaders and their offsprings in both parties should be burnt alive. His concern and helplessness for the people and their land was evident when he said that the two major parties won't do any good for them and wouldn't allow a third party to do anything.
Even though my co rider insisted me to maintain a speed of 80kph in order to meet our schedule, I enjoyed the ride at its best on 70kph. When I get bored of listening to the playlist in mobile phone I started singing loudly in my own way.
Our destination was a place that always rose my curiosity. The fishermen families still living in that ghost tip without electricity and access to shops even after long years since the deadly cyclone that took lives of hundreds who lived in that land which once was a town. It was there that Swami Vivekananda landed after his great speech of Chicago.
It is my unfulfilled dream to stay in that ghost tip in a full moon night witnessing the density of stars, and our hemisphere lit by moon , I can imagine that now but i know it will be beyond descriptions to experience that in real. I think I would witness something very strange there at that time. Sometimes intuitions meets reality .
And the best part in this journey happened just before our return ride in a lone beach stuffed with pine trees, located somewhere in the eastern part of the dhanushkodi strip. This was purposefully chosen. I always liked sea shores where I can't spot another human being there and that too during the dusk. My favorite job will be to lie down near the sea, my head pointing towards it and view the sea upside down. It may look weird but I guarantee the fish-eye visual will be amazing, and if you keep your eyes closed for some time then you feel the waves penetrating your head.
While riding back in the star filled night amidst the whitish salt fields I remembered the conversation that I had with Laxmi, the old woman selling sea shells at dhanushkodi. She had 5 kids, all of them married and left her in that ghost town , but she hesitates to leave that land, reasons unknown. During the 1964 cyclone she was at Ceylon,where she was married, later she had to come back to Tamil land due to the militant issues. I asked her why people are fighting at Srilanka?
 |
| laxmi |
Me : what's the difference, do you speak different language?
Laxmi : No, our origins are different.
Me : Means?
Laxmi : ( Smiles)
Me : Do you have different gods?
Laxmi : Yes, we pray Shiva, they pray Buddha.
Me : So are gods responsible for this problems?
She smiled in a way that she agrees my question.
As we approached the windmills, it was past 2 am, and the cool wind was embracing us telling to reduce the speed. I checked the speedometer and ensured it was 70kph.
