The miles stretch on.
And so does the ride.
Near a road side dhaba I turn the ignition off and the motorcycle strolls with its remnant bits of power over the gravel strewn road edge.
The morning is still young and the wind is still cold. I remove my helmet and let hang it from the motorcycle handle bar.
The chairs and tables along with a few khatiyas have been laid out in the open. I stretch my arms and legs, which have become a little stiff, and take a seat.
"2 Aloo paranthas and tea. Bring the tea first", I order.
A young lad takes note of the ordered items and dashes to the chae wallah.
"Sir apka chae", says the young fellow, who had taken the order comes up to me and hands me over the tea.
I thank him for the tea and as I sip it little by little, the hint of ginger, elaichi and a good amount of milk makes the tea pretty tasty. A slice of the fields appear between the kitchen and the restaurant section of the dhaba. Its all golden and green and brown and looks very beautiful.
Almost in no time, the smell of Aloo paranthas fills up the olfactory nerves. The paranthas are hot, straight out of the oven. A couple of tablespoons of butter are melting on its surface. It is accompanied by a bowl of thick dahi. Just what the doctor ordered! Not to mention the hunger that was bellowing in the stomach.
I spend a good half an hour at the dhaba. A nice relaxing day to start with!
I see these guys enjoying a joy ride on their bicycle.
I ask them to pose.
They happily oblige.
The hills are winding.
But the road holds good and steady.
I switch between the second and the third gear.
And the motorcycle feels planted on the road.
Somewhere near Melli, I see this spot. I get down and shoot them.
The forests and trees are there. All over.
No matter where you would go, the trees, the river, a snowy peak at the head of the valley would always be there.
At the petrol pump in Rangpo I fill up extra litres of fuel in the reserve cans knowing fully well that a drop of petrol will not be available from here until Gangtok, where I am expected to reach tomorrow. The thought of the icy cold winds, snow fed streams and glacial lakes - the start of the high plains bordering China - hits me. It creates a sudden disturbance in the mind - a feeling of excitement - the prospect of riding over those roads.
From Rangpo, until Rongli, a ride of 25 kms, the road is devastated. The concentration lay more on the ride. And hence, no photos!
And so does the ride.
Near a road side dhaba I turn the ignition off and the motorcycle strolls with its remnant bits of power over the gravel strewn road edge.
The morning is still young and the wind is still cold. I remove my helmet and let hang it from the motorcycle handle bar.
The chairs and tables along with a few khatiyas have been laid out in the open. I stretch my arms and legs, which have become a little stiff, and take a seat.
"2 Aloo paranthas and tea. Bring the tea first", I order.
A young lad takes note of the ordered items and dashes to the chae wallah.
"Sir apka chae", says the young fellow, who had taken the order comes up to me and hands me over the tea.
I thank him for the tea and as I sip it little by little, the hint of ginger, elaichi and a good amount of milk makes the tea pretty tasty. A slice of the fields appear between the kitchen and the restaurant section of the dhaba. Its all golden and green and brown and looks very beautiful.
Almost in no time, the smell of Aloo paranthas fills up the olfactory nerves. The paranthas are hot, straight out of the oven. A couple of tablespoons of butter are melting on its surface. It is accompanied by a bowl of thick dahi. Just what the doctor ordered! Not to mention the hunger that was bellowing in the stomach.
I spend a good half an hour at the dhaba. A nice relaxing day to start with!
I see these guys enjoying a joy ride on their bicycle.
I ask them to pose.
They happily oblige.
The hills are winding.
But the road holds good and steady.
I switch between the second and the third gear.
And the motorcycle feels planted on the road.
Somewhere near Melli, I see this spot. I get down and shoot them.
The forests and trees are there. All over.
No matter where you would go, the trees, the river, a snowy peak at the head of the valley would always be there.
At the petrol pump in Rangpo I fill up extra litres of fuel in the reserve cans knowing fully well that a drop of petrol will not be available from here until Gangtok, where I am expected to reach tomorrow. The thought of the icy cold winds, snow fed streams and glacial lakes - the start of the high plains bordering China - hits me. It creates a sudden disturbance in the mind - a feeling of excitement - the prospect of riding over those roads.
From Rangpo, until Rongli, a ride of 25 kms, the road is devastated. The concentration lay more on the ride. And hence, no photos!
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