To work...

The idea of cycling to work had been tickling since last two weeks after reading Anil Uchil's piece. It was all the much important to do it this month itself as I am sitting fully vella at work, serving my notice period. It increased exponentially after meeting Anil over the weekend and the opportunity offered by striking motormen was irresistible.

The decision was made Monday night itself - if I reach home without much of fuss, I am coming to office tomorrow and cycling! We traveled back leisurely last evening, so it was imminent.

A senior from office, who travels in a chauffeur driven SUV to work daily from Thane called up in morning, asked about my travel plans and also offered a lift. Having decided previously, I declined and set off after passing some three hours watching the latest developments in the motormen saga.

The newest accessory - a bottle holder - had to added and the creaking sound of the mudguard on the rear wheel had to be fixed before I embarked on the long ride. Till the way to cyclewallaaah, a screw of the mudguard came off and that chap didn't have the screw. But the irritating sound had stopped after the disappearance of the screw. Tightening the screw of the bottle holder took me to a motorcycle mechanic and I was finally on the road, at 1420 hours to be precise, equipped with nothing more than 1.2 litres of water.

Soon after leaving Navghar signal on the Eastern Express highway, I experienced headwind of the worst kinds. This was something I'd never experienced till now in such a bad way. It was seeming like riding uphill even after lowering the gears and I had no option but to take it as it is.

Making matters worse was the random change of directions. Gusts from sideways were the most dangerous as it changed my track by a couple of feet everytime. But thankfully, the roads were empty.

The pangas with winds continued till around the JVLR junction after which it was a pleasurable ride. This is where I realised the power of the heat. Though the front side of my body (facing the wind) was fine, a simple scrub on the back - between the backpack and shirt - made my hand wet...I was perspiring too much. Stopped at Ghatkopar, the first hydration break.

An old woman (seemed destitute) was resting in the shadow of the lone tree but couldn't quite comprehend things. A fool stopped in front of her on a cycle in this scorching heat, drank some water and went away (cant call it "sped-off) in a nonchalant way. I was not sure whether to offer her some water, as there was hardly any communication between us. Just one person observing the other.

The flight of fancy continued fantastically - heat and headwind being the only irritants - till Suman Nagar. This is the great Sangam of Mumbai - where the E E Way meets the Sion Trombay road. Traffic increased and one more woe was added. I say proudly that every square-inch of space, extending beyond the road onto the footpath, was utilised till about Dadar after which it became peaceful.

Cycling a couple of days after the Maharashtra Day in a Marathi-dominated locality like Parel has its own advantages. It felt like you are entering Ayodhya after the arrival of Ram, the only difference being that the brothers Ram and Lakhsman have started bickering. Dotting the road on dividers, atop buildings and even under construction flyovers are flags of Shiv Sena and MNS. On one particular, the local cadre, who randomly make a switch (issue-based) between the Senas, seemed to have arrived at a consensus. On this divider near KEM, they had alternatively arranged the flags. First the saffron of Sena, then the multiple hues of the MNS to project more inclusive, Sena again. All the flags were of the same height, very neat job.

Safely negotiated the (erstwhile) mill area and got exposed to the cacophony of Mohammed Ali Road. Only word that comes to mind is :chaos! Its a great equalizer in a way : a haatgaadiwalla, biker like me, a motorbiker, activa rider (yes, its a separate category here) and of course the one Yamaha RX-100 (again a distinct clique, found in abundance here) are all at the same level. All depends on how fast you can accelerate which explains why it was frustrating for me. You achieve certain speed and just as the breath is normalising, some dude walks-in on the (arterial) road.

Reached office and parked the bike outside the Press Club. Started the return journey at quarter to eight in evening.

Evening time and Mohd Ali Road was at its best (or worse, depends how you take). Babasaheb Ambedkar Road was no better and the fun of negotiating heavy traffic continued till well past Suman Nagar. Mr Anil Kakodkar and me started from the Club together for the same place (he is the other intelligent resident of Thane). And courtesy the traffic, we had each others' company till Ramabai Amedkar Nagar, after which I never saw his car or the police protection jeep following him.

Normal cycling with a constant respiration was simply not possible as I was riding on the narrow space between a 4/6 wheel vehicle and the footpath skirting which is unofficially reserved for the mo-bikers. Was sweating a lot, but didn't wish like loosing the tempo. So kept cycling and ultimately post Swastik Park, legs began giving the signal. Amar Mahal junction was safely negotiated and I took the much needed hydration break at Ramabai Ambedkar Nagar. Saw a jalebi walla there, immediately ordered for 100 grams which was followed by saunf.

Post water, jalebis and saunf, the ride till Thane was fun. Good breathing, no headwind, well-patched road with decent lighting and moto-vehicles that seldom trespassed (!) into the lane I was riding : it was fun. Of course, there was no need for a halt and I cruised into Thane comfortably.

It had taken me two hours and 15 minutes to return. A shower was most essential.

Matheran!

They say combining work with pleasure is the best thing to do. True, on weekdays it is absolutely true. But on weekends, all the factors in the equation change. Hence, I get a "weekend version" of the adage : its best when you can mix your hobby with social commitments.

That is precisely what I attempted during a weekend in October 2009. Cycle to Dombivali (around 35 km) to meet college friends on Saturday evening, spend the night with them and cycle to Matheran the next day. And I pulled it off well !

I had never cycled so fast as I did on Saturday evening. I had started late and my only concern was to exit the Mumbai-Agra national highway before sunset. The road surface is very good and all I had to do was cycle fast and hard (on higher gears). There had been some showers in the afternoon which helped my cause as the atmosphere was cool and perfect for riding. Adding to the pleasure was the greenery on both sides of the road - the paddy fields had crop ready for harvesting. But honestly beyond this, I wasn't observing around much courtesy the time limit set by nature.

The only thing to be looked out for was traffic and being evening it was bad. At a small village on the highway a Maruti Esteem came to a screeching halt right in front of me forcing me to commit the most awful act - braking hard and overtaking the chap. For a cyclist, it is bad because it isn't only about the physical efforts you will take to regain the speed but about your tempo, breathing pace as well. Frustrated, I showed my middle finger to the carbonivore after overtaking his (stationery) car, something I could have ended up paying a big price for. (and almost did)

Within the next couple of kms, the car caught up with me and the person sitting next to the driver (cant call him as the navigator) hurled the choicest of abuses at me for my brazen act. It dawned on me that this chap is a local and that too from the agri community, infamous for being short tempered. Thankfully, I had cooled off enough to just neglect the abuses and continued riding. I had not given-in to the intimidation and learnt crucial lesson in cycling : the carbonivore can always get back to you!

After exiting, I took the Kalyan-Shil Phata toll road and had to negotiate evening traffic in downtown Kalyan and later Dombivali. Reached Dombivali within two hours which I still feel was quite an achievement.

Used the social gathering part - of meeting friends - basically as resting break for the long day ahead.

SUNDAY

Woke up as planned at 6 AM after managing three hours of sleep and left my friend Mitesh's place in the next 30 minutes, without disturbing any of our sleeping friends. Within ten minutes it started raining heavily (a first for me while riding) and I just loved it. Greenery all around, no room for sweating, early morning mist in the air and good road surface. Waah!

From Dombivali, I cycled tw0-three km on the Shil road after which I exited to take the road to Badlapur constructed by MIDC. The traffic was sparse and the conditions just perfect for cycling. Helping me more was the industrial body's service of yore : building the best roads (infrastructure) to pull investments and doing nothing even as the industry shuns the planned cluster. The wide, well-surfaced, low traffic road passes through barren landscape for almost the entire stretch of the road but being just done with monsoon, it is green. A cyclist just cannot complain. Thank you, Maharashtra Industrial Development Corporation. May you build more such roads before becoming defunct yourself.

Anyways, I took my first break at Badlapur for chai and then took the Badlapur-Karjat road which runs parallel to railway track. Again, the ingredients were the same but road had become narrow (no MIDC here) and there were a lot more villages in between. I reached Neral at around 1015 hours which delighted me like anything. My plans of having breakfast at Neral was on track!

The b'fast break was very long and I left Neral only at 11 AM, under the blissful thought of not knowing what lies ahead!

After cycling out of the village, I took the right turn to head towards my destination : Matheran. Initially cycling on the high gradient was fun and I scaled up till Jummapatti very comfortably not going below the 1-2 gear combination. But the sheer gradient (at times higher than 45 degrees I think) makes you realise the ineffectiveness of your machine. I needed more teeth to negotiate.

It was hot, very humid and I was sweating a lot, making hydration the biggest concern. The lemon-flavoured Mentos and water (very hot because of the heat) came in handy and I somehow managed to continue cycling. Physically, you give up at such gradients and it is sheer will power that makes you move on, really. During breaks, of which there were many, I was indifferent to the looks given by co-habitants on the road like the taxiwallahs and private 2/4 wheel drivers. They were looking at me as though I was some alien with the only difference being that I was on a cycle and not the saucers. A few worthy exceptions also encouraged me to go on.

During the breaks, I probably clicked the most lazy frames ever. The shots are tilted, sometimes shaky and clicked from an angle which represents my then posture : squatting on the tar road, doing a shavasan (!), sitting on the narrow gauge railway track or simply reclining by a board, sitting on the saddle. The photo is secondary, the current posture should not be be changed!

After much efforts I succeeded in making it to Dastoori Naka, the end of the road. I had taken a little less than two hours to do the ten km journey through probably one of the worst roads (gradient-wise, i hadn't encountered such roads in Ladakh as well) but never did I get down and push the cycle. I was firmly on the saddle all through.

At the Naka, the taxi wallas arranged an impromptu felicitation in my honour. I was served with cool water (read : at room temperature) procured from a tap and also offered biscuits which I politely declined (not because I feared them being spiked, but because I felt a loss of energy to chew them)

After spending a few minutes at Naka, I started the downhill ride, burning a lot of rubber (of my break shoe) and within 10-15 minutes was down. A two hour uphill was covered in 10-15 minutes flat! I was, and still am, puzzled as to what made me attempt the mad ride/climb all alone?