i lost my story

‘We had plans.
We’d roam the world.
Have children in each continent.
Who knows, Maybe get married.’
Her voice trails.
‘He left.’

‘And the story ended?’
‘It’s ended.’

Dharini Bhaskar in Day’s End Stories


mountain soul

they are
impressed when
they hear
i walked
uphill without
cutting sweat

they don’t
know i
am a
mountain soul
and my
ancestors were
born in
mount kanchenjunga

motorcycle diary

Felt a little like Alberto Granado as I rode pillion for my first long distance motorcycle trip with this nomad. While our ride will have no significance in changing the history of the world or the region; in Che’s words, we were on the road just to travel.
Riding from the hills to the plains and from the plains to the hills, we were in for many detours and diversions that only added more character to our already exciting trip. While the rains gave company during the first stretch of the trip, pleasant weather was to follow as the day progressed and we rode in national highways that led through bumpy country roads and smooth tea gardens. The sunset was faint in some distant horizon yet the grandeur of the vast silent sky looking down on us proved enough solace to guide us in to the night.

roadtrip2The initial plan was to reach our destination on the same day but we had to halt for the night due to unavoidable landslides. So, we started out next morning with the rising sun and were fortunate to ride above the mountains alongside a flurry of cotton balls. Nothing could have been more beautiful than traveling with these soft white clouds against the mighty blue mountains.

roadtrip4Having taken this trip with a veteran rider, I was given a chance to taste the thrills and joys of being on the road in a motorcycle with endless directions to go. There is a tiny desire to find myself on the back of a motorcycle someday soon and get lost in the highways that await us.

roadtrip3Route: Shillong to Gangtok
Total kilometers taken: 820 (detours included)
Mode of Transport: Enfield Electra

(muchas gracias to my awesome pilot rider)

not from scholars…


And I remember most of what I know
that is good and true
and lasting has come
not from scholars
but from minstrels and gypsies,
from magicians and magic,
from jugglers swallowing fire.

It has come from small bands
of travelers who followed the rivers
and told me old stories
and chanted old warnings
of young women dancing
through late afternoons
and into the firelight,
leaving only a footprint
for the morning that follows…

-Robert James Waller in Old Songs in a New Cafe