Nomadic Hymnal: Hindustan-Tibet road: Nowhere to nowhere

Nomadic Hymnal: Hindustan-Tibet road: Nowhere to nowhere: Okay, It happened two years ago. After quitting my job and before finding a new one, I headed towards Spiti . With only my backpack fo...

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Hindustan-Tibet road: Nowhere to nowhere

Okay, It happened two years ago. After quitting my job and before finding a new one, I headed towards Spiti . With only my backpack for company, what I sought, to be as cliched as possible, was a life changing experience. And the plan was to tread the trails which I earlier could not because of the other cliche, little time. For four days, I cycled and trekked around Kalpa , who rising from her lazy stupor wooed me with all she hid in her bosom, and never revealed until I decided to forego the insurance of the tarred road. It could as well have been me rising from my stupor, as the hermit in me took over, and decided to move on, beyond Kalpa , towards the fairy tale lands of Kaza , K omik , Kibber , and every place that I yearned to be in, every time I was in Ladhhak , and every time I was in Kalpa . Leaving the tar insurance: Kalpa What? Whistle as you walk: Kalpa Hobbiton? Cheeni Gaon Monastery Hermits ...

Ladhhak: A Godless Pilgrimage

Walking on the air as I was while hurtling past Ambala on my way home, I was already feeling nostalgic about what I had left behind. The ethereal memories of Ladhhak kept me awake, where the not so ethereal skeeters failed during my attempt at a quick nap in Ambala. Before giving up on sleep, I traveled backwards at the speed of thought, trying to backtrack mentally and fool myself into believing that there was more to come. Leaving the Plains: Chandigarh Ten of us committed attendance, five planned, three prepared and took leave from work, and finally just two of us set out for the road trip I've always wanted to be on. Sourabh rode his Avenger 220, he bought 6 months ago for the sole purpos...

The Journey Home

In continuation of: Part 1: Nomadic Hymnal: Ladhhak: A Godless Pilgrimage Part 2: Nomadic Hymnal: Leh: Realm of the Indus An hour from Leh, the Magnetic hill stood establishing literally, what in metaphoric sense Leh has always been—magnetic. With engines off, our motorcycles moved uphill at 45 kmph, defying gravity, surrendering to the rebellious hill in its silent mutiny against the earth's force. Once released from the magnetic field, switching loyalities again, the bikes ran on horse power, occasionally speeding on the surprisingly well-maintained NH1. Simply Magnetic The Indus, by now huge enough to command the reverence reserved for a goddess, moved parallel to the road, occasionally crossing it beneath feeble bridges in its haste to reach the Arabian Sea. At one such crossing, I collected a handful of silt and a bottle of water from the river as a memento of the journey. Indus: The Farewell Apart from a few rough patches, the road to...

Nomadic Hymnal

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