Cycle Expedition To Secunderabad

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The only times I enjoyed cycling at National Defence Academy Khadakvasla as a cadet were the umpteen ups and downs of the vast stretches of empty roads from the Equestrian arena to the Gol Market. With the road relatively empty and near absence of the thunderous Academy Appointments or the dreaded Ustads, I loved the feel of the cool breeze caressing away the beads of sweat from my forehead while the mean machine between my legs was usually at its speeding best. During other times, it used to be only a race against time, with the cycle either on my head or beside me, seldom under me to perform its designated task. 

After days, weeks and months of cycling all through any given term, a cycling expedition during the term break is generally the last thing anyone would think of. Even more so during the fifth term break since the pleasure of going home and a grand return to the Academy to savor the perks, privileges and hegemony of the Sixth term would be utmost in anyone's mind. 

One cold Saturday evening at the fag end of fifth term in December, 1980, as I was filling air to the  bruised and nearly condemned tyres of my bike in the 1st Battalion cycle stands, I overheard  Atul Singh Kapur, Mickey Uberoi and Sanjay Mittal talking about a cycle expedition somewhere during the term break. I just laughed at these crazy guys for their crazy ideas much to their discomfort and rode away to Gol Market to buy some spicy samosas. 

Again later in the evening, as I was merrily bathing in my birthday suit, Mickey just walked into the bathroom and in the course of our gupshup, told me about the idea to cycle upto Secunderabad during term break. That Atul's dad was the Brigade Commander there, clinched the issue. I wished him luck, least realising the bombshell was just due.  "Tu bhi aaja yaar mazaa ayega.  You being from North Karnataka, we would be traversing some parts of that region too.  It will be great!" Like hell I said.  Buggering my last NDA term break this way...  No way. Nevertheless, some adventure streak in me had bitten the bullet. Realising that Mits, my dear friend, was also part of this gang added the final punch. I was game for it. It finally turned out to be a group of six of us. Atul Kapur, The AS and BS combi of Ahluwalias from Delta and the Braves, Mickey, Sanjay Mittal and self. 

Although the destination was known , the entire op and logistics plan was still to shape up.  The Battalion Commander had very graciously promised good quality cycles from the battalion reserves. Knowing the quality and contents of our cycle stands , we kept our fingers crossed and prayed for the best.

Looking at the combination of our group, it was safe to say that it was one of the many heterogeneous as well as homogeneous combos we could think of. Braves vs Daggers, three-khalsa heady gang, combi of all three services etc etc, we could make any combination function or dysfunction with ease. 

Now planning for the expedition ...  Planning, what planning?  It was not for nothing that we learnt that too many cooks spoil the broth. With a political map of India and a service protractor in hand, after hours of haggling and giggling, and outshouting each other, we agreed upon certain broad issues.

Total distance.             570 km.
SP.                               1st Battalion Cycle Stand.
FP.                               Secunderabad Arty Bde main entrance.
Time at SP.                  D day 0600h.
Time to destination.    D+4 AN.

Other Adm points.
Each one to responsible for his own cycle, kit and health.
No double ride, no eve teasing and no civil police lafadaa. 

With not many days left for the D day, it wasn't a long wait to see our prized bikes issued for the tour. Our response on seeing these simple mean machines sans any style, elegance or glamour was rather mixed. They were just meant to take us to Secunderbad on their wheels and that they appeared to be reasonably capable.

Of the entire lot, Mickey was the most anxious.  An 'engineer' that he was destined to become, wanted to desperately strip and unstrip the entire bike to tighten all nuts and bolts as well as grease all squeaky joints.

The AS and BS combo, with their protective head gear already in place, were more keen to manage proper knee guards and sexy shorts to impress some cuties if and when available enroute. 

Mits the eternal pilot that he was, was content that the bloody bike mechanic would jolly well ensure that the bike was in order. He was however more concerned about how to manage his well formed cockpit assets firmly settle on the tiny brittle leather seat. 

Atul always presented  a laid back saintly demeanour with a very sharp owl like intelligence. He infact never bothered to even have a cursory glance at his bike.  He very well knew that during the tour, it would be all the 12 wheels rolling together or none. If there happened to be any problem with his bike enroute, there would be five pairs of hands and legs frantically at work.  He very smartly packed an additional Sidney Sheldon novel to keep himself occupied during such trying circumstances.

Since the D day still some time away , let me just fast forward myself and compare those preparations for the expedition with modern times. With no mobiles, no internet, no Google maps or GPS, no credit cards and no advance booking for anything,  isn't it amazing, how simple things were then ! 

As the D day arrived that cold windy Sunday morning in December, we embarked on our cherished cycle expedition to Secunderabad. With excitement in our hearts, romance in the air and the feel of freedom, the pedals automatically got energised.

A burly Khalsa with a tender heart, Mickey ranked very high in the sincerity, honesty and integrity quotient. With his natural flair for English, Hindi and Marathi, he turned out to be the only and the most ideal choice to handle all the finances. Since he also had this uncanny knack of arguing with anyone and everyone till he won, we had some best of the bargains at lodgings, rest houses, restaurants and shopping places. More than those  few fiver and tenner notes tucked deep in his back pack, it was bulge of those coins in his left pocket that made us feel secure in his company.

As the tour progressed  there were some hiccups and minor breakdowns. Often, I was the one who was cajoled and coerced to wield the plier and the spanner on the needy bikes. With expert advice coming from opposite directions  opposite to each other, I just did my job my way and got away with it. Thanks to Mits for taking that photograph to prove my credibility. 

After a tiring ride on not so perfect roads, on more than a couple of occasions, we managed to stay in the Govt rest houses in the vicinity. The room used to be reasonably large to allow all of us to spread our bedsheets next to each other. An attached bathroom with Indian commode was a bonus. Needless to say the taps used to be dry and the overhead flush tank with a long rusted chain never failed to fail. Mits, the  ever intelligent techy torchy that he was, it didn't take much time for him to realise the progressive agony of using the bogs next day early morning. He quietly took me aside in the dark and explained the possible environmental condition of the bogs next morning. Despite the reluctance of losing a few additional winks of sleep, I saw reason and agreed to his plan of waking each other early. 

Next morning, the plan went through as scripted. While Mits and I finished the morning ablutions well in time, before things got out of hand.  AS and BS came out of the bathroom covering their noses as the sewage line nearly choked and the Indian commode progressively getting filled. As Mits and I were savoring our morning cup of tea in the open verandah and the AS  BS combo doing up their hair, Mickey suddenly came rushing out of the toilet very annoyed and blurted, "You buggers are shitting shit yaar". The AS - BS combo were perplexed at this sudden outburst and wondered what else would anyone do in the bogs .....  while we couldn't hide our chuckle. Atul, the ever macroman that he was, never bothered about such micro issues. He remained cuddled on his bedsheet deep in slumber. 

 
As we crossed parts of Maharashtra, Karnataka and approached Secunderabad in then Andhra Pradesh on the final day, a sense of accomplishment started creeping into us. On the home turf, Atul took total control and guided us to the Arty Brigade complex with aplomb, to an astonishing reception hosted for us. Coming from a totally middle class civilian background, the grandeur of the silverware, the glamour of the stick orderlies and the display of multi pounder guns simply mesmerised me. Having only seen the wrong side of the Squady, Div Officers and the stiff lipped Ustaads, I initially couldn't  digest the fact that these officers, JCOs and Hav around could be so affable and friendly. As one of the young Captains nudged me, I met Atul's dad and other senior officers around. Later we moved towards the tea and snack table and saw the lavish spread too tempting. But we had to retain sanity much against our wishes. Although we relished every sweet, biscuit and cake, the icing came in the form of our group photo and a write up being published in the next day Indian Express and local vernacular press. 

Next two days were shear fun, frolic and sight seeing in the Nizam's land of Hyderabad and Golconda. As the euphoria of the tour subsided and the index of homesickness started rising, we all simply dumped our cycles, care of Atul Singh Kapur and boarded the next available train home. 

Wasn't it a memorable experience  !



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