November Rain

Everything seemed perfect when launching my flight from Allahabad to Mumbai. I had leather to comfort me in the hostile winters of the three states that I would review; the scattered ship hung happily on the left side, and most importantly, Cartos (my motorbike) looked awfully hungry, impatient in swallowing 1,400 km away. I was excited and happy with the only ride. I always liked riding on my own, because it gave me the freedom to stop anywhere, light a cigarette and look around.

The first day of my trip was familiar, starting at 1 pm, and I expected to arrive in Jabalpur at 8 pm and take refuge in the hotel. Covering 400 hundred kilometers in 8 hours was not easy. Road conditions and other motorists like drunk truck drivers and drowsiness make traffic very thorny.

After exiting the boundaries of Allahabad, I entered the terrifying Riva, which is referred to as the Red City. Red soil flying from the ground creates layers of blindness from dust. The roads were completely disintegrated with countless numbers of dingol. Sure, the most treacherous road I've ever tried, during my 15-year horse riding experience; it took me 3 hours to roam 25 kilometers away, while my joints cried in pain while managing the clutch of a 500 cc engine and balancing a 200 machine Kg. Oddly enough, the red color of this city appears synonymous with chilling with its bloody record. True, it is considered one of the most violent incidents in Uttar Pradesh. However, I arrived at Jabal Jabal around 9 pm and took shelter in a hotel on Russell Street, although no one knows who Russell is.

The second day started early and I left at about 5 am, with the intention of traveling 250 km between Jabalpur and Nagpur quickly. Roads that connect the two cities and states to the runway of private aircraft can also be used, as they are wide and tempting without any signs of humanitarian presence for up to 25 km along. Opened my throttle went and I had some serious fun in this stretch.

Covering 250 km in 3 hours this expression must be validated. However, all this soon ended like a bubble burst.

When I entered Maharashtra, it rained and came to me surprised. Keeping me busy I expect the rain to stop at any time because it does not rain in November, for the first few minutes I tried to keep calm and overlooked the dreaded thinking of raining.

After seeing any determination in my determination to deny me the rights to ride a horse, I pulled out a cigarette this time and thought it was not checking or opening any imaginative window in my mind but rather dealing with my nerves, who are currently suffering from anxiety. I decided to get a cup of tea and think about strategies for dealing with a beautiful opponent. Now I was completely wet and the tepid rain had done its best; it started to freeze. When I was sitting in a small bed in Dhaba in the Nagpur area, I began to count the negatives and negatives of the ride; I reached some disappointing conclusions.

Rain makes the roads wet and slippery, impeding the speed of the motorized bike and getting worse because the human body is directly exposed to eyelashes. This means that I will have brutal body pain in the next few hours. The wet glasses make the vision mysterious and I didn't have snakes on my comfortable glasses and I had to get rid of them, which means sore eyes. Along with all these rains, it creates a deceptive environment for riders and drivers alike.

Consequently, I suffered from the first nervous breakdown after I realized the uproar of these harassments that would be fired upon me if the rain did not hinder me.

I did not find any solutions to these frightening problems, I went back to the saddle and started riding again. Meanwhile, my endeavors to find a cheater were the wind; surprisingly, I didn't find anyone with the right dimensions until I got to Nasik (600 kilometers from Nagpur).

As expected, the speed was greatly reduced due to wet roads and bad visibility rains. I kept wearing wet clothes and shoes for another eight hours with frequent stops in Dubai on the highway. Invading dhabas every 50 km, and melting my body almost while standing near tandoors became convention. Because of these doves, my bones remained in service for 12 hours of heavy rain.

I have seen approximately 8 to 10 accidents between Nagpur and Mumbai involving vehicles of all shapes and sizes. Most accidents were caused by unexpected rain and sunken road conditions.

From Allahabad to Mumbai, at least 50% of the highway is repaired according to the Gold Quartet plan that started during the period of Atal Bihari Vajpayee as prime minister. The Akola Highway is part of this renewal plan as well, so it's hard work to make these roads better. Government employees were so busy they didn't notice that building materials like sand, tar, blue metals, etc. were scattered all over the highway, which could lead to disaster. A mixture of water, pollution and dust was combined with tar and blue minerals mixed with it and topped by myriad pits. Now, it was more difficult to see and ride.

Sometimes, the pits look much shallower than they really are; they have reduced the depth of one of these pits. While trying to overtake a truck, I got into a real deep truck, which gave me wings. When Kartoos' front suspension entered, I felt that the rear tire had been lifted to the floor.

Despite the numbness that comes to mind after a crash, I have developed a habit of always escaping to the beast and exploring the injuries he sustained before my examination. I tried to continue my un blogged conference on this incident as well. I ran to Kartoos, raised it and put it on the side of the road, where I parked it on the center rack. Then I sat back on a tree and smoked a cigarette. I have suffered many cuts and minor bruises on my palm and knee, but the right calf was burned very much after coming into contact with the exhaust pipe in Cartos.

After the accident, she sat on the side of the road for an hour, and applied toothpaste to the burning calf, with Kartoos laying on the middle stand still impervious, while the Lorries and S.T buses were moving at a rapid pace.

There was no civilization for 100 km. Back and forth. After the accident, my body suffered bruises but my mind was almost gone. I felt miserable, desperate to get home and feel the warmth of the cave. I tried to call my loved ones, but my cell phone did not find a signal in this forbidden land for God. Fortunately, Kartoos forgave me of my madness and started a kick start. I had to ignore the bruises, return to the saddle and continue to ride.

"The journey is like marriage. The specific way of error is to think you control it."

John Steinbeck.

I kept riding while it was dark covering the lands. At nine in the morning, I was very tired of studying the way I was walking; I was simply following the back lights of S.T buses and big trucks to cover the seemingly endless distances. A mixture of water, tar and oil with collapsed roads is a killer. If it's not about these larger vehicles, you probably haven't arrived in Mumbai for another 3 days.

That night for the first time in my life, I felt sorry for being alone. I was riding on bumpy roads without civilization all over to find solace, in these troubled times; the only moving objects around them were the nerve compounds with their doors closed.

Thinking about the terrible conditions I was in, I prayed for my life and I hope not to die tonight. There were many possibilities that would play an important role in fulfilling this prophecy such as deep holes, isolated roads and sleighs that pass through virgin forests, drunk truck drivers not bothering to run on a motorbike driver, or local drivers giving wings to the rider. By inserting lathes in the front tire and then stealing his belongings, perhaps life. And what if no one finds out what happened to me.

When these sarcastic opinions aroused my obsolete senses, she wondered if I was with a person I know and trust, things would have been simpler than that. People always criticized me for being lonely, eccentric and self-interested tonight, I wish I had not been cruel. Most of the time I installed on my own. Going to the movies and eating out alone; I ignored friends and family and God is sorry for all this night. When the fear of death scared me the intelligence and loneliness that struck me the poisonous snake, I realized the importance of relationships, friendship and love.

After that, I was immersed in the process of answering innovative questions for myself, such as why do we live together in societies, why do we talk with each other, and why do we look at each other, because it is a human desire to love, to be cared for, to be touched, to speak with It seems that I have come to the true meaning of life.

As I was thinking about these enlightened conclusions, I saw a sign reading "Welcome to your hermit", which means that this ordeal you are about to end.

She was not on my to-do list that night because you are very special about health and other amenities in the hotel room. When I entered Nasik, the task was to catch a warm bed; I rode towards the first hotel on the horizon. Kartoos stopped cautiously, unleashing the stationery on the left side of its rear tire and invading the hotel.

A Sikh man in his 60s sat at the front desk in the middle of the hall lit up in a weak voice and hung a picture of Nanak's door with a stunning frame above us all on the wall behind the table. I went up trembling with it like owning someone and asked me "Hat Melji Tao?" He looked suspiciously at me and asked if I had proof of identity and immediately started blaming the recent bombings for his shameless behavior. Sure enough, I said, bend over to open the wet septum, which was pouring water from it and wet clothes were embarrassing to deal with. While I was looking for my wallet, I looked up and saw that the old man was sneaking at me with his shoulders resting on the table. I didn't blame him for this; in fact it seemed to me like a fugitive suspect.

Finally, I found my wallet and handed over my license to it, then read it completely and called Ganesh, a room service boy, to take me to my room. I asked for his permission before I lit a cigarette and waited for Ganesh to come and take me to my room and the nice thing called Bed.

A teenage boy came right away and asked me if he could raise the mixed dress for me, she denied and told him to take me to the room right away, which he did; he was smart to understand his despair. We went on one trip and got to the room that I would spend on the big night. He opened the door and saw him, the holy bed, that I felt was calling me with open arms.

Ganesh asked me if I needed anything, when I answered in company no, he obeyed the room and closed the door. Then I went to sleep after a quick shower with hot water.

I woke up around 11 in the morning and felt energized after a restful and deep sleep. She stood on the bed with my back resting on the wall and asked what things had done and the torture she had been through in the last two days. I remembered the thoughts that were chasing me the night before and how I got stuck; the human desire to survive is thirsty. She stood and opened the window glass, and the fresh breeze filled the room. I looked out the window, there weren't many cars on the street even during this time of day. He declared a public holiday due to demonic rains.

I went out on the street and found a clothing store that works with the winds that suit me. I cleared my bill at the hotel and came to Cartos. Kartoos concluded by my side during all this as a true friend. I passed my right leg, settled in the saddle and rode out of town in an aristocratic way on the road that took me home, through the beautiful Kasara Ghat. The rain continued to attack, but she could not bother me as I said to myself and to the rains "It has gone worse."

This trip did not change my mind about travel, horse riding, people, God, love, family, life, death, and loneliness, but it changed me as a person. Although I was sometimes afraid and felt scared most of the time by the pain in which the unexpected November rains met, I kept laughing at the conditions the whole time.

The man who broke through the Mumbai frontier on November 16 was not the same one that left it for 15 days. This was without a doubt the most complex day of life.