Rumble through the passes

 

Rumble through the passes:

Difficult roads lead to beautiful destinations! (the signboards say)

Your head within the helmet, with just a whiff of air sneaking through and making its way past the balaclava to your nose,

It's just you and the mighty Himalayas, and the rumbling sound of the engine and the gear shifts,

And the heartbeat at every curve with the valley as a witness.

Blacktop and offroad, soaring to dizzying heights.

Windblast through the air vents, wading through dust and ice,

Blazing sun to freezing cold

The real deal is the passes,

Shinkula gave us the creeps,

Baralachala was a massive build-up and did not deceive - through Suraj Tal and snow,

Sarchu was a dustbowl,

Gata Baba was watching as to why these guys didn't quench my thirst, but still let the newbies pass,

Nakeela and Lachalung La were gentle bystanders,

It suddenly seemed like the path had fangs by the time we reached Pang,

More plains were like an F1 track (notwithstanding the horrific GoPro video of a previous BMW crash)

Then came the gamechanger that elevated the bike ride to another level - as it brought out the survival instincts, raw survival instincts.

Tanglang La waited for us patiently and when the time came, gave us a proper churn - Full on frontal visceral attack!

Through engines and exhausts, and out of the world, kind, truck drivers, and chais and maggis, not to mention stuttering teeth and shivering body and near frostbite fingers, the pass let us go!

On sheer exhilaration of having survived and adrenaline, and with near-empty tanks we entered Ladakh and stuttered to Leh!

Nordon's cordon took us through Magnetic Hill, castles, anthills, thukpas, Skyu, Gurgur chais, Chang and Dzos.

The mighty Khardung La was surprisingly gentle but then came the real offroad after North Pullu!

Offroad that put the exhausts to shame!

With the inspiring story of a German hand, we entered the beautiful Nubra!

The soothing sound of the streams across the Retreat and the Stone hedge was matched by the Ladakhi folk dance.

Double hump camel and sand dunes flagged our return back!

Through Whiskey and Brandy bridges, breathtaking vistas, and the NehruKund bridge (!), we landed in the Ride Inn,

To inspiring tales of life-changing bike trips,

Like the one we just had!

Rumble through the passes!

Fast changing landscapes - snow, sand, stones

On the way to Shinkula

Photo idea credit - Sid

Companion through the passes

Sangam at Leh

Just after Khardung La

Of prayer flags, mountains and bikes

So much more to do and look forward to!

The saviours!

Hope is a thing with feathers - KPTR poem project

Hope is the thing with feathers

Beneath the masks

Beyond the fears and

Notwithstanding the uncertainties

Hope is the thing with feathers

It adds love to the eyes beneath the mask

It adds courage to go beyond the fears

It gives direction at crossroads

Hope is the thing with feathers

It binds us together

It adds wings to our dreams

It shows us the skies and lets us fly together

Hope is the thing with feathers!

Teacher's Day 2020

 From teaching us to size the prostate

To picking up the subtle signs on the IVU

From making us reason in the pre-op meets

To making us question our own existence on Friday nights and Saturdays!

From making us good resectionists

To leading us through the DVC and IVC

From teaching us to care for patients

To showing us the joy of the CMC Urology family

From teaching us much more than the subject

Teaching us life lessons!

Pranams to all my teachers!

Thanks for the patience, effort and the time!

"Familiarity" - Roger Federer wins Wimbledon 2012.

The scars of Wimbledon 2008 may never completely heal for Federer. And the rants about Rafa not being on the other side of the net will never cease. And Federer himself may never be the same old magician ever again – dominant, classy and graceful sometimes bordering on laziness!
But here we are – With roof cover over Centre court, a Brit hero in the form of Andy Murray, an aging Federer – with several backhand mishits, a breathtaking forehand drop, his twin daughters and like he said back to “familiarity”.
Nothing exhilarating. Nothing overboard superlative.
But a collective sense of happiness alright!
Roger Federer – World No. 1. 286th week.

The Force! (at Valley of Flowers)

Dear Rags and Jake,
Here I am back from a longish OPD contemplating sleep. But you know the feeling, its like post an exam with few more papers to go. You hear your heart gallop and you try hard to sleep but you can't.
Its this special Force - a sort of an energy I feel. Call it the Himalayan air or the water from the Ganges. Or may be the quiet inner acknowledgment of having accomplished a physically challenging trip into nature and its wilderness - I notice that little extra zip in my feet albeit for the tiredness.
I consider myself very lucky and thank God for the same.
Getting up early from my bed is nothing compared to the young men that gathered in the cold to pick their kandis. Taking a bath when my geyser is down is nothing compared to the ice cold water those men brave (yeah I conveniently skipped the post shit routine!). Sweating out in the heat is nothing compared to the climb that those elderly women take up. Doing my job with a smile is nothing compared to the yearning of young men to be right here in the capital. Climbing an extra flight of stairs is nothing compared to the ascent at that altitude. Talking lovingly and caringly to my patient is nothing compared to the language of Bharath with Lilea or Vinod with the Scorpio.
Am lucky to be here.
Nothing emotional or sentimental. Just straight from the heart.
I love you guys.
Thank you.
San.
Ps: not to forget my first touch of REAL snow and of course the sore butts!

APRIL 2ND 2011

I was about 8yrs old. It was the summer of 1992. Thats my first retrievable memory of my involvement in a world cup cricket match. It was the Benson and Hedges Cup down under. I feigned an abdomen ache. My dad baby sat me. We had a ball!India lost to Australia. Our tail failed to wag in that match and the lean figures of Javagal Srinath and Venkatapathy Raju making a mockery of a chasable last over and the contrasting huge figure of David Boon with his thick moustache jumping on the pitch are vivid in my head. World Cup cricket had hit my body system - whether it was because of the kick i got out of successfully feigning illness or watching television with my dad or if it was that thick moustache(!) i dont know. But i got the taste of the KICK!
I was not born when Kapils Devils won in 1983 at Lords. So post 92, i've been keenly and passionately following the Men in Blue(varying shades and personnel) and waiting for nearly two decades like many of my generation.
For the record, April 2nd 2011 was a Saturday. India was in a frenzy after defeating Pakistan in Mohali. I could not sleep properly the previous night. The roads of Delhi were surprisingly deserted and it was like an unsaid understanding that the whole country will be heading in one direction that afternoon.
I watched the first half of the match in Cafe Morrison. Noisy, glitzy and we were screaming our lungs out. Jimmy Morrison (after whom the place is named) would have loved to be there that afternoon. I have never ever seen an Indian team field the way they did that afternoon at Wankhede. India played almost the pefect game. Almost. Mahela Jayawardene spoilt the party for us - his wife waving and cheering with her cool shades on is one more of those vivid moments.
India began the chase and started off terribly. Sachin, the God, at home with history beckoning on him got out cheaply. We left the Doors of Morrison. I could palpate the sulk of a country!
The rest of the match was in a much more sedate environment in the hostel room. I had to bear the mourning of my friend who babbled that we may not see the Cup in our lifetime.. India are chokers and all that.
MSD walked in with some 167 odd runs more required and played a blinder. Gautham Gambhir played a great innings too and got out just short of a century. India won.
Pinch you goddamn very hard!!..... INDIA WON THE WORLD CUP!..
My friend who sulked all along was dumbstruck.. like many others.
We went to India Gate at midnight.. It took us three hours to reach a 4km distance. I understood in one crystal clear blow how sport(cricket in particular in India) can unite a country irrespective of caste, race and creed. Flags waving, horns honking, loud patriotic music, folks on their car tops - topless! and what not. "Ab Party baaki he" was the chorus.
For long, Indians were considered as pushovers - lacking that killer instinct and aggressiveness to seize the big stage. The Cup was a strong message - to the world and an unmatched boost to the self belief of every indian - in every walk of life - right from the chai walas to the dabbawalas and the CEO's of MNC's that WE CAN DO IT!
Thanks to MSD's Men in Blue! - We are the Champions!

QOTD

Man's reach is beyond his grasp; its a lie. Man's grasp is beyond his nerve! - Christopher Priest