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.
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.
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.
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 !
^^^satishdeshpande^^^
+91 9746 118131
^^^satishdeshpande^^^
+91 9746 118131
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