Like this:

It’s been close to a week since I got back.

Long weekend is coming up ‘coz of Diwali and suddenly we hear this ‘ting’ in our heads.

Who’s we?

Me

Nash – Our Creative Director. One of the most creative and fantastic person I’ve ever come across.

The pencil / mouse / paintbrush in his hand is a magic wand. (err..just in case you reading this, our appraisals are coming up)

And Parag – Extraordinary person. Nicest and happiest person in the world.

I’m sure when he came into this world he was the only baby who came out laughing and his first words were ‘Stock Market’.

Usually a typical conversation between the three of us goes something like this:

Parag: ‘Nash gandu tu Goan tha, Goan hai aur Goan rahega…humesha.’

Nash: ‘Bhen****! Yeh kya joke hai kya?

Gaurang: ‘Kya chalu hai?’

Parag: ‘Gaurang I tell you what this Nash na…’

Gaurang: ‘This Nash what?’

Nash: ‘Yeah what are you saying?’

Parag: ‘Bayalis tape hai mere paas (in South Indian accent)’

Nash: ‘What?’

Gaurang: ‘What?’

Parag: ‘Let’s go out for lunch.’

Nash: ‘What?’

Gaurang: ‘What?’

Gaurang: ‘But Nash you are a Goan. Admit it.’

Parag: ‘Hahahha…Feni’.

Nash:’fuckers get out of my cabin!’

Parag: ‘Chal yaar Gaurang, forget him.’

Gaurang: ‘Sigh…I know, bloody inconsiderate bugger.’

Nash: ‘What the…’

OK, so now I have an Enfield. Nash already has one and has done some super trips to Himachal, Rajasthan etc.

We all are wanderers. We all love the outdoors. And we all are restless. O yeah, restless we are. And we just love exploring the unknown, unheard of places that ‘tourists’ usually don’t go to.

We didn’t know that, really, till our first trip together. We didn’t know that this would be the beginning of many more fantastic trips.

So we decide to go during Diwali. We just look up this place called Harnai on the map, some 250 KMs from Mumbai on the Konkan coast and decide that’s the place.

We don’t have much details, we don’t even know what it’s gonna be like but we just decide to

go for it.

Did I tell you that we’ve started calling ourselves the ‘Huddlers’?

Hahaha not really, but it pisses Nash off. He hates the word so I and Parag make sure he hears the word at least 10 times a day.

To cut a long story short, before we left we did some warm up exercises on the road (freaking people out) and did the huddle before riding away. And now it’s just become a ritual.

So we finally decide to go.

Nash takes permission from his GF and Parag makes sure the Stock Market is not on the downswing.

The permissions and apprehensions taken care of, we are all set to rock.

Wednesday, 07^th November, 2007

Circa 7.00 PM, at work.

‘Guys we gotta leave early ok’

‘Yeah’

‘Yeah, yeah. Let’s leave around 8 AM’

Thursday, 08^th November, 2007

Circa 5.00 PM, somewhere in Thane.

‘Hi Parag’

‘Wazzup dude’

‘yeh kya time hai kya nikalne ka’

‘Hum thoda lateho gaye’

‘thoda?’

(Little did we know that this would also turn into some sort of ritual – Till date we’ve somehow never managed to start in the morning)

We travel the most treacherous roads ever known to mankind – Thane and Mumbra – and get on the Mumbai-Goa highway.

It soon starts getting dark. But it’s nice to get away from the city.

Parag’s riding pillion with me and we are lost in our thoughts.

You come across little things during such trips that simply make your day.

On a long empty stretch of road with fields on either side, a huge flock of birds start flying over-head, in the same direction that we were headed. It was so wondrous! We look up and ride like that for half a minute, under the birds!

  

We ride for some 120 KMs and realise we’ll need to get off the highway a little ahead and traverse through secluded interior roads at night. The locals at Mangaon advise us not to and we agree whole-heartedly.

We find a spacious room (with AC!).

Eat / talk / jokes / walk / ice-cream / Zzzzzzzz

Friday, 09^th November

7.00 Am.

I’m up early and go for a small walk, have 2/3 cups of some fantastic tea and just wander about lazily. It’s so much fun to wake up away from the city. The roads are foggy. It’s the perfect setting.

Reminds me of some movies by my most favourite, most crazed about director in the whole wide world – Karan the love guru Johar. Oh yeah!

8.00 Am.

 I’m getting bored.

8.30 Am.

The lovely ladies decide to wake up and get ready.

They claim that I kick and move and talk in my sleep.

I don’t know but more of that later.

  

9.45 Am.

Scene: 2 Enfields are kick-started and ride off into the sunset. Er..sunrise. Err…fog

Ok let’s try again.

Scene : 2 Enfields ride off

Visual : Sleepy town, long winding road.

SFX : Thump thump

Background Score : Morrison – keep your eyes on the road and your hands up on the wheel

Off we go towards Dapoli.

And I was just kidding about Karan Johar. He’s not my fav. I am not particularly fond of leaves falling, to music, in the background. And I’m straight. Enough said.

I love DDLJ though.

We need to get off the highway at Lonere Phata and head towards Dapoli and carry on till harnai which is 30 minutes away from Dapoli.

It’s when you get off these highways that the real trip starts.

Lazy meandering rivers, quant little villages, surprised locals, wonderful little bridges, trees, lots of trees, secluded roads, ghats, small little dhaba perched on a mountain in the middle of nowhere…we pass them all. No doubt we keep stopping every now and then to click pics, eat, drink, pee, and just soak in the scenery.

Slowly and steadily we reach Harnai.

Harnai just pops in your face.

It went something like this:

Trees, jungles, road, road, trees, small ghats, trees, road, road and boom!

Suddenly the scenery opens up and you see the ocean and a massive beach that doesn’t have a single human being. It’s right next to the road.

How can you not stop. It just happens so suddenly that it simply leaves you breathless.

1.00 PM, Harnai Beach

We get on the beach and it’s just us. No one else. Nothing. Nadda.

Some pic takin session happens and then Point-Dexter Parag decides to ride my bike in

Knee-deep water.

For some reason he’s under the impression that Royal Enfields are super-human…and amphibious.

The bike starts to sputter and Parag feels the bike is talking to him.

He’s got a bigger than Mt. Everest smile on his face, the wind in his hair, the world passing by at dizzying, death-defying speed of exactly 10 KMPH.

The poor Pahadi bike of mine who’s seeing a beach for the first time comes to a griiindddinggg halt, or should I say sputterrring halt.

We look at each other. And huddle.

 (…this is not the end, this is just the beginning)

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