There are a few things we always miss in life. Some never get to see the Niagara Falls. Some never get to wander around Mecca or the Everest or their neighbor’s closet. Some things remain hidden not by choice but because we have limitations. We carry with us a slow decaying body with us everyday. Sometimes we never even get to visualize that a magnificent entity exists (until of course somebody posts it on social media with their face covering half the photo of that place or a thing). However, almost all the time we have empty pockets. Once in a while though, nature springs us with such a surprise that you just stand still and whisper ‘wow’.
“Agitation? Yeah, it revolves around us sometimes. But not until we share it to let go.”
Funnily though the roads to our destination is never easy. Literally and Figuratively. The problem reached its climax in Diskit. We had left Bahadur because he wasn’t allowed to roam around Leh because of the number plate issue. We’d rented another bike at Leh but the moment I was riding this new bike felt different. An uneasiness that you cannot explain. Perhaps it was just changing of bikes but this was something deep inside me that made me queasy about this particular bike. The motorcycle was acting a little weird. I could sense that something was coming. And then it did.
We’d just finished our lunch in Diskit and were planning to head toward Hundar Valley. Now, we’d heard about this place and it only made sense for us to go there. Why not? But just as I tried to rev the engine it wouldn’t start. Shit. I tried again. No sound. Yuri seemed agitated. I tried turning on the motorcycle once again. Nope. Sure that there was a problem we started searching for a mechanic. Thankfully there was a bike repair shop nearby. We took our bike there. Thanking the stars that a problem could just as easily be dissipated.
The electric shop next to the repair shop broke the horrifying news. The only mechanic at Diskit had gone to Leh . . . to fix bikes there. We were truly fucked. With no alternatives on our mind the only ideas were that we would have had to leave the bike there or we would have to haul the motorcycle on top of a bus or a truck or a camel.
Yuri claimed the battery was dead. Now, I’m not saying he was wrong but having ridden a bike for a decade I knew the issue wasn’t with a drained battery. The motorcycle was relatively new, hence, the battery wasn’t the problem. I tried explaining that but the long journey must’ve taken a toll. Even best friends would be annoyed at each other after days of traveling. We’ve been companions for a mere 20 or so days. He was seemingly agitated as was I. He stood his ground and I screamed back. However, the time was not to argue but to find solutions. We could use any viable recommendation to a possible solution. Any human would work.
“Thank you, savior! Credit to you where it is due.”
The Gods of Vehicles be damned. The man, who owned the electric shop, was our savior. He took a good look at the motorcycle before giving his verdict. The electrician found a unique solution to our problem. He installed an electric switch with the on/off button replacing the faulty wire.
Yuri was awfully quiet. He knew he was wrong to be angry. I wouldn’t speak to him. He came up to me and asked me one of the most surprising questions ever. “How do you say sorry in Hindi?”, he queried. My anger dissipated in an instant. “It’s okay, we have to a long way to go now.” I replied.
“Friends cannot stay annoyed with each other for long. We still have millions miles to go – Yuri and I”
As I sat our bike ready to restart our journey once again I realized another thing. Never had I seen a motorcycle starting with a electric switch.
“‘Moving on is a simple thing, what it leaves behind is hard.- A Tout Le Monde /Megadeth.’ As hard it was to say goodbye to Bahadur, it was
equally hard to make a new bikefriend @Changla Pass.”
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