Nov. 29, 2023 The bike - I had been using it for the past 15 years. I had just completed my Ph D work, and was back on my regular job of being a faculty. My mentor and guide, Fr Alex suggested that it was time that I procured a royal enfield bullet, but the fuel consumption prospects and regular maintenance requirement didn't suit my taste. Prince, the husband of my senior colleague Dr Mary Joseph, said that it was high time that I had a sturdy bike, instead of the KB100 Bajaj (100 CC), and he recommended the special edition (just 5000 in the make) of the HONDA UNICORN. And I got the necessary permissions and secured the bike sometime in October or November of 2008, for around Rs. 65000.00. Since then it has been my constant companion, and in spite of my many falls (https://prasantamcmi.blogspot.com/2017/03/bike-rides-and-falls-another.html), I have felt it has stood by me, rather faithfully.
(Incidentally, Prince who inspired me to get this colourful bike, and who in spite of his familiarity with REB, had also procured one, and was using it for his city rides. He had a stroke while riding the same bike, somewhere in Thammanam, not far from his residence, and he stopped the bike to rest on the kerbside. But the stroke proved fatal. May he rest in peace! I learnt that after his departure, with no one to use it, the bike, in good condition was disposed off.)
As per our religious constitution, we don't own anything. So the bike is also of common ownership. However, I had managed to have it exclusively for my use in the past 15 years, hardly making use of any other mode of conveyance other than a bicycle or public transport system. So even after shifting my base from Kochi to Qatar, I got a kind of consent from the Provincial superior to retain the bike under my custody so that when I was in Kochi, I didn't have to look for any other mode of transportation. And it has worked thus for the past two years.
Through my epic (!for me) travel across the country for four months, way back in 2021, traversing all the states (except Mizoram and Jharkhand) and covering 21000 kilometres, it proved to be a reliable companion. Though I was thrown off the bike in Odisha, dozing off on the ride, and in spite of getting the bike damaged, I could get it repaired and continue with my travel and though it stopped once, all of a sudden on the forest route between Rajkot and Indore, there was a mechanic available just 100 metres away, with the rider having no need to push the vehicle.
With fifteen years gone, the present motor vehicle regulations in the country insist that the vehicles are retired and recycled - perhaps for safety, perhaps for the environment, perhaps for boosting the industry. I decided not to send my faithful companion to scrap. Bike mechanic Antony of Thevara (a heartian of SH High School), took it upon himself to get the registration renewed after rehauling the vehicle and painting it anew. The whole thing took just Rs. 19500.00, which I felt was very reasonable.
To Ride or to Parcel? Now being based in Sitapur, UP, I felt that it was good to get my companion back with me to go around and be mobile. So I decided to take it to UP from Kochi. I would have been also happy to transport it by rail from Kochi to UP. But when I thought about the tedious processes likely to be involved - taking it to the office, processing, packing it to free it from scratches, negotiating with people who pack it, emptying the fuel tank, loading it at the station, waiting for it, fetching it again, further negotiations likely to be involved with the unionized labour, and then refuelling it - I thought better ride it once again, this time only up to UP.
Test Ride to Idukki - Nov. 28
I made a test ride by going to Ramapuram Mar Augusthinos College for a discussion on 'autonomy' and continued the ride to Idukki - Edanjimala, Santigram, Kattapana (via Calvary Mount, pathaam mile) to visit the ailing mother of my colleague Dr Fr Sajimon Illickal, who happens to be the vice-principal of Sacred Heart Degree College, Sitapur. Meeting her, spending time with the daughter-in-law Ancy, who acts as the full-time caretaker, I returned via Kothamangalam - almost 300 kilometres in the day. (I was happy for the coincidence of stopping over Thankamani, at Kamaakshi recalling my aspirantage-inter-college days' batchmate, Mr George Mookilikkatt. I enquired around and easily spotted the house Adv. Mookkilikkatt. His daughter was our student for M Sc Mathematics. I was meeting him after almost 40 years, except the one time he had come to admit his daughter. He was happy to show his newly built house in the heart of Kamaakshi city (we used to ridicule him for the use of the term 'city' - which I understand now as a localised term to indicate the marketplace - but now it has indeed grown into an urban space). The house had some land attached to eat, uncovered earth, with still possibilities of growing food and green! I hope it remains so! He gathered a few of his friends, most of them of some local political wing, to say hello to this guest! There could be a whole chapter on 'Mookkili Stories').
Free India - Freedoms and Rights on the Indian Roads
Riding the highways is tough for a two-wheeler rider.
India being a free country, the citizens are free to do anything they please, till they are booked by the police or handled by some adversaries. On the roads, the exercise of this freedom is much cherished, and almost taken for granted. So you could ride left or right, and overtake the other vehicles thus, even if there are two or three lanes in one direction; if you feel urged (and generally, that is the case), you could still overtake a vehicle using the same lane, especially, when that vehicle is a two-wheeler. Those who travel by cars or other vehicles show great impatience that they don't even tolerate a delay of 10 to 15 seconds by which space could be obtained in the speed lane.
You can put the two-wheeler rider to a flight with fright, either by blaring your horn, or by the glare of your light, invariably in high beam. Both these happen on the Indian highways.
The freedom mentioned above is a blessing for those who exercise it, but for those who are unfamiliar with it, it can be a nightmare even during the day - while you have to be cautious regarding the speedy larger vehicles coming from behind, you have to be also alert regarding the real possibility of a vehicle of any category coming against you, on the wrong side (left side), sometimes with some effort to attract your attention with the bright light on; or at times, without any indication. It can also be lightless bullock carts! In this case, the two-wheeler rider is the most vulnerable, occupying the left lane, usually (pushed to) the shoulder, that you are between the two streams going in opposite directions.
Now, an unwritten fundamental right of the Indians is to spit at will - making the whole country a big spittoon! So the truck driver, the bus driver, and the two-wheeler rider - any of them is entitled to spit at any time, anywhere on the way, and the unprotected two-wheeler rider condemned to be at the receiving end, should receive the spray as if it were a shower of blessings, very often coloured on account of the beautifully reddish paan! You dare not protest - usually, you can't as most of them speed away, and you can't catch up. In case you are effective in pursuing the vehicle and registering a protest in the assertive style or corrective style, you can expect a backlash, with the otherwise passive Indian's animal instincts to attack getting awakened all on a sudden. Such aggressive defence of one's rights is becoming the norm of the day, and is spreading beyond the borders - even to the enlightened(?) Keralam. In this matter, I must admire the women, who are much less found to be having this habit - perhaps, those women taken to paan chewing are hardly found to be people driving or using public transport.
Regrets of an Unfinished Ride: On 29th November, Archbishop Kariyil with his daily serious engagement of shedding calories, meets me on the corridors of the monastery as I get ready for my trip, and enquires about it. He is aware that I intend to go to Sitapur on a motorbike. He recalled with a smile how he, kind of prevented me from pursuing with my bicycle trip begun from Mumbai and meant to end at Kochi 10 days later, way back in 1997. After my post-graduate studies at TISS, the Hero bicycle I had used for the 2 years of PG studies, was to transport me to Kochi. I was solemnly flagged off by Bp. Thomas Elavanal, bishop of Kalyan. I made a smooth ride to Pune reaching the CMI house after a tiring 10-hour ride across the Lonavala ghats. But on arriving there, the pressure of Fr. Kariyil's instruction (being my boss at Rajagiri, Kalamassery) with the persuasion from beloved Fr Marius forced me to drop the idea at Pune, sell off the bicycle there, and travel by train to reach Kochi the next day. I have never stopped regretting that missed opportunity.
On Indian Highways - Kochi to Sitapur - November 29, 2023
I start off from Kochi on NH 544 (earlier, NH 47 - I decide to grasp the mystery of numbering our highways and realise that the logic of NHAI estd in 1988 is: North-South routes are numbered even, with smaller numbers to the east and larger ones to the west; and East-West are numbered odd, with smaller ones to the North and the larger ones to the South. The linking subsidiary highways have 3 digit numbers going around them, with an even number prefixed indicating a link in the N-S direction e.g., NH244; or an odd number indicating a link in the E-W direction e.g., NH544) - It is generally four-lane, rather free, and smooth-flowing except at Edappally, Kalamassery, Aluva and Angamaly. Seamlessly takes you all the way up to Salem to put you on NH 44 - the longest highway of India, running between Srinagar and Kanyakumari, spanning 4112 kms. I have covered most of it on my two rides.
Being at Coimbatore, I snatch the opportunity to meet with seminary mate Fr (litttle) Pauly Payyappilly CMI, who is very old little self - humble, simple, youthful and engaged in the ministry of the word by producing literature in Tamil - chiefly, the magazine paasamalar!
Day 1 On December 1st, around 2.15 pm I set off on my trip to Sitapur. NH 44 from Coimbatore is really spacious, having 6 lanes (3+3) for quite some distance, then mellowing down into the normal four-lane. The traffic is generally disciplined. The humps are rare. Roads are rather well maintained except in some segments with some damages - still tolerable. You reach Hosur, and the plan is to stay at our Christ School (& College - last time when I visited the place, in 2006 or so, it was not there). I find the SH 17 (NH648) leading to Malur. The spot is at Alampady. The road is bad, badly shaped and ill-placed humps, potholes, muddy patches, ditches, no proper lights - indeed it is a nightmare travelling at night. But I manage to find the place some 30 kms from Hosur. I am warmly received by the former heartian (alumnus and faculty) Fr Jose Thottathil. Warm kanji and payar really fit my taste and I happilly clear almost all the dishes. They live in three villas. And I am happy to learn that a Rajagirian Rev Dr Jince is the Principal of the college, another heartian Rev. Dr Roners is also in the team. I sleep well. Wake up early, and decide to join the community celebration of mass and then leave. Jince is happy to invite me to the investiture ceremony to take place in the morning. I am tempted to remain, but can't wait - have 'kilometres to go, before I sleep'....
Day 2 I hit the road at around 9 am. The first phase is indeed horrible - a repeat of the previous night's story. It is almost 2 hours, when finally, I am there on the highway 44 leading to Hyderabad, from Devanahalli. The state highways of Karnataka appear not very impressive - not well maintained, and the humps are many - but they can be negotiated with some ease. The curve is rideable on slow speed with a 2 feet or more stretch and then the incline - the raised part is connected to the road by a 35-degree angle slope at both ends. However, there are several other humps which are not easily visible, and you bump on them, made to feel momentarily disconcerted, and at times, even lose your balance.
As you enter Andhra Pradesh/Telengana section, the scene changes. Each of the junctions is preceded by a series of strips with a warning of hump ahead. Sometimes 3, otherwise four sets. Rumble strips, initial ones being very smooth and the last one or two being a little hard on the rider, but still you could pass on without lowering the speed. They serve more as a caution than a deterrent.
In AP-Telengana section, we find speed restrictions near each of the intersections with pocket roads - 60 - 40 - even 20. But hardly anyone pays any attention to them - and this holds good all through the highways. They appear to be more as a caution or a ritual than meant for real application.
The Urban Mask of the Indian High Ways
As we pass by the highways seamlessly, the rural India is now being cleverly masked with planned planations on both sides of the highways and ornamental flowering plants in the 3 to 10 feet wide median. The most visible greening substitutes are Yellow Copper Pod (Peltophorum pterocarpum), Mandaram (Bauhinia acuminata), Erukku (Calotropis gigantea - not very common), Jamun (Syzygium cumini), Spathodia, Flame of the forest (Butea monosperma), Tabebuia (yellow trumpet tree), Gulmohur (Delonix regia), Indian laburnum or Kanikonna (Cassia fistula).
As I pass by some stretches of the state highways in MP and UP, I get to see the glimpses of the past glory of the highways - with luxuriant growth of sturdy mango, jamun or mahua trees growing as giants - cooling the area and being of economic value to the community or to the state. In Tamilnadu and some other parts of the country Tamarind and Neem used to be such a useful substitute. The modern highways have altogether set them all aside. Fortunately, the fashion of 70s and 80s as social forestry - Eucalyptus and Acacia are hardly ever seen. I felt good that the damage done to the land by the highways is being mitigated to a great extent by this greening effort. From my limited knowledge and assessment, I felt this could be done much more judiciously - a three-layer planting was quite possible, with what are more ornamental being closer to the roadside, one row of fruit trees like guava, tamarind, mango, jack, jamun, kodukka puli (Pithecellobium dulce), mulberry etc. being in the middle and tough forest trees like rosewood, Thespesia populnia (parutti), Gliricidia sepum (seemakonna), Sandalwood, Redsandal wood, Terminalia paniculata (marutu), Terminalia arjuna (neermaruthu), Terminalia catappa (Indian almond), Henna (mylanchi), Acacia catechu (Karingali) etc. on the outer side, where space permits.
The flowering plants in the median are typically - bougainvillaea (of several colours), oleander (arali), Caesalpinia pulcherrima (rajamalli), Tecoma stans. Again, I felt this could be more meaningfully deployed by adding bush jasmine, ixora, Tabernemontana divaricata (nandiarvattam) etc. and handing them over to local community groups for protection and harvesting. Such additions could also add to the butterfly populations as well.
The 'plantations' appeared best maintained in the Andhra Pradesh stretch, and the worst in the Madhya Pradesh stretch.
However, the rural hidden by the flowers and treelines cannot be suppressed - they emerge every now and then - in the form of women (at times, men too) vending their minor produces - fresh corn, small guavas and Sitaphal (most likely gathered from the jungles on the Deccan plateau where they are found in abundance), pomegranates, freshly harvested ground nuts, and at times, cane juice and tender coconut. I find a perfect tender coconut for Rs. 35/- (the least expensive I found in the recent past) in the AP sector.
The other indicators of the rural are cattle, goat and bullock carts on the highways and around it. It is surprising to note the existence of such pastoral life as something very common in many parts of the country.
This time, it was chiefly rice paddy - and Andhra and Telengana were leading the scene.
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The plastic/solid waste menace - the otherwise beautiful and diverse rural countryside is increasingly becoming littered, and often marred with the accumulating solid waste - especially, plastic - which indicates, an increasing market, purchasing (consumption) power and inadequate civic and environmental education.
Some typical GREEN WASHING happens in all this - selling food, selling wares, even selling petrol, as the petrol giant RELIANCE does now - literal greenwashing! I stop over and ask, is there anything special about Jio petrol? Anything green? He does not know anything special about Jio-bp fuels or products. I look up and find something on additives from their site.
I am received warmly at Jeedlimet by my cousin - Vinita and Riju and their twins waiting to say hello to me before they went to bed. I had to go round and round, with google guiding me fairly well, taking me away from NH44 into the very busy streets, guiding me along the tank-bund road for long and then finally bringing me to the place, just about a kilometre away from NH 44 towards Nagpur. As per our understanding I am treated with Kanji and payar - I relish the stuff after almost a whole day on empty stomach. Next morning, I celebrate mass at the nearby Holy Spirit convent, persuading Riju to walk the short distance instead of going by the car. 
From Hyderabad, I target a stopover at Adilabad, the border district with Maharashtra. WAZE apparently misleads me asking me to go another 10 kms. As I cover the 10 kms, I receive a call from my younger confrere Jince from Chavara School, Adilabad and assesses that I have gone past the school, and had to return. He said he would wait on the highway. Advised me to go further and take a U-turn where it is permitted. I go the Indian style. Take a turn, go to the left (wrong) side and ride in the opposite direction - very carefully to protect me and other vehicles, and before long find a pass to cross over and be on the right side. I ride back full 10 kms and finally, find Jins waiting on his bullet. (One of the upsetting experiences on a ride to miss the way, and having to retrack the route - even if it is just 2 kilometres, it bogs you down! And when it is 20 kms - one could imagine the weariness involved). I follow him and reach the school, just about a kilometre from the spot, where good senior friend and heartian Fr Tomy welcomed me. Being a holiday, the duo had gotten to the task of preparing a hearty Sunday meal, instead of leaving the task to the cook. It was already past three, and I eat, and am given a hot, spicy cup of North Indian tea. The campus is on a water body, with many birds visiting the place. I hope the life science and EvS teachers make use of the great resource to make the children friendly with the other inhabitants of the common home. Since I hold Bp Prince in great esteem for his unconventional commitment to the gospel principles, I thought of making a visit to his Cathedral close by. It is a rather old and not-so-big place, and the aspiration of the vicar is to have a new big Cathedral in place. I make no comments on that noble desire, as I myself am culpable of adding to the built-up environment, back in Thevara - though in my heart of hearts, I wanted it to be a green structure compensating for all the damage it had created. 
I get back to NH 44 guided by Jins, crossing river Tamsa again, and then head towards Nagpur. A long stretch is almost eerie dark, and there is hardly anything other than the vehicles moving on the road. I am glad to see the lights of the town, finally. It was not still too late. I am taken away from the NH44 towards Amravati - I see the signs to Bombay. I ask for the bypass to the local vendor. His response is 'where do you want to go?'. I am familiar with this line - it is intended to be helpful, rather than just being inquisitive. So I don't get offended. But I myself am not clear as to where I am heading. I don't even do the homework of checking on the shared location as to where I am going. So I leave the inquisitive wayside helper to his question, and continue to try my luck with WAZE, in between stopping and checking with Fr Gilson at Carmel School, whether I am in the right direction. I still manage to make it by around 8.30 pm, not too late. Feel immensely pleased to meet Fr C.C. George my senior seminary mate - after almost 30 years! We eat together a hearty supper and Gilson and I ensure that the Indian team romps home with the 4th win in the 5-match 20-20 series against Australia.
Day 4
The morning mass and a survey of the vast and well-laid campus, its garden and the orchard of oranges, and a light breakfast of paratha with honey, with some garden oranges in my food pack, I am set to hit the NH again. I ride out and at the start of the Nagpur by-pass leading to NH 44, am pleasantly greeted by a fairly big quail, but don't feel like stopping and surveying it further. I get to know that petrol is going to cost much more in MP than Maharashtra, and hence I stop at an HP pump asking for a full-tank fill. Somehow, it is filled and spilled over, causing panic to them initially, and then to me!! The engine is quite hot, and anything could happen. They ask me to wait, and I wait patiently. Nothing adverse so far. The petrol has evaporated. Then I asked for a water connection, and they help me to have the bike washed to cool it down. I feel the threat has passed, in the bargain, losing almost half hour. Instead of Rs 1524, I pay Rs. 1500, and move slowly and steadily ahead. That was a scary moment!
The Indian Highways and the Local Culture Till reaching the border of Maharashtra, I was surprised to observe that there was hardly anything to distract the riders, the rare eating joints appeared invariably vegetarian, usually having a 'saravana' attached to them - especially noticeable was the total lack of any liquor outlets or bars. But reaching Maharashtra you could observe these spotted here and there, and on reaching Nagpur, on the bypass to Amravati, a whole street in Dattawadi is all illumination, music played aloud and bars and eating joints of all sorts, as if it were a Punjabi festival. I felt like stopping over and having a beer. But reaching further North (MP), there appeared to have no need for any specific joints - feeling sleepy, I stop over at the waiting shed constructed by the NHAI - and I found that beyond doubt this was utilised as a party area by some groups - food leftovers, water sachets and broken bottles. (However, they didn't deter me to snatch a nap and get refreshed for the next leg). As we progress further, especially in MP and UP, where the state highways pass through the townships, it is an everyday mela, almost a melee, though all escape unhurt. And you have all sorts of food available on the street with ground nuts, golgappa & pani puri, fresh omelettes and so on...
NH 44 takes a right turn toward the west and north at Lakhadon in MP, and almost merges into NH 34 steadily towards North, passing through the thick, but very artificial-looking forest tracks of Madhya Pradesh. They appear to be planted - chiefly of teak wood. I felt they were planted after having been cleared during the colonial times, and were further harvested by the free India, from the appearance of the youthful trees. However, the road is very well laid, and thankfully, there are no humps. They are mostly raised and they pass through the thick forest range of Pench which is a tiger reserve. Both the sides have half walls, and in several sections they are further covered to the height of about 10 feet or more, with a frame added to the concrete wall. I couldn't assess them well. Perhaps they are raised in order to let the wildlife pass without hindrance, and not enter the highway imperiling themselves and the travellers. But the road is really well laid, and the ride atop or at the level of the canopies is really thrilling. I could spot only the usual monkeys and some langurs on the way, climbing to the top of the wall and observing the riders.
NH 44 under NHAI presents itself diversely, perhaps indicative of the local culture, as it passes through various terrains. In the South, generally, a greater amount of discipline is found - a) vehicles driving in the wrong direction and b) the presence of cattle and goats on the highways. In Keralam, it is hardly ever, in Tamil Nadu and Andhra, perhaps an exceptional occurrence, now and then. When you cross over to Maharashtra, this is immediately visible, but as we progress towards MP and UP, these mobile speed breakers are anywhere and everywhere - at times, accompanied by their human guides, often without them. In these stretches these fellow beings of our animal kingdom with the addition of dogs are found at home, lazily sleeping, moving leisurely with no cares. At night, these otherwise friendly creatures can put your life in peril. I narrowly missed a huge bull, almost grey in colour, as it stepped from the median and moved to the left! I thanked God for keeping me safe in the close shave!
Satna, MP At Jabalpur, NH 34 gives way to NH 30 to Satna. At various points, the highway way still in the making, causing traffic jams, and slowing down the progress to my destination. The previous night I had made consultations and finally decided to make Satna my halt - also with the intent to meet with people in Satna diocese. The map indicates a pocket road to the left at Maihar, and it takes you for another kilometre or two, strewn with potholes and inimical humps all over, and you realise you are on state highway 11. Overtaking any vehicle is tough on this road as it is generally very narrow, and there is almost continuous flow of vehicles in both directions. There are no street lights. Silhouettes of huge mango trees are visible in the grey darkness. Finally, you are thrown into the lights of 'smart city Satna' and then taken through the typical north Indian galies to the broader busier main street of the city and on the roadside is the unique Cathedral Church with a pronounced Islamic architecture, and behind that my destination for the night - the Bishop's house. My stay is arranged by Fr Gilson, who had contacted Fr Thomas Thelekatt, who in turn had entrusted the legal practitioner and bike enthusiast Fr Ebinson to take care of my needs. I am given a very good room, I freshen up and join the liturgy of the hours in Hindi, followed by dinner with Bp Joseph (from Upputhodu) and the priests. Day 5 Though I would have preferred an early start, I decide to join for the community celebration of the mass and then a picture with the priests and then leave around 8.15 am. Soon I am on the forest path to Chitrakoot (of Ramayana fame) - SH 11. The forest is natural and green. The weather is cloudy and cool. There is vanarsena all along. The dwellings are simple, unique with old-fashioned tiles and bricks. I would have loved to take the pictures, but didn't want to wait.
Jettisoning to go Light: I hear a thud and turn back to find my companion Studd box fallen. The welding is gone - the box is intact. However, I couldn't afford to carry it along - so I manage to empty the contents into the TISS jubilee cloth bag which I had carried along, and stuff them all into it, leave the box with the key on the roadside - hoping somebody would make use of it, and that it will not add to the non-biodegradable waste in the forest. A vanar comes closer and examines, and then leaves. (In fact, I had planned to replace this box, as it had been damaged on my last trip. However, the discomfort with adding to unwanted waste on the common home forced me to manage with the fibre-welded old box itself)
Another 10 kms and I am at Chitrakoot, famous for its Chitrakoot Dham. I rode past it not intending to explore the legendary town, fearing it would be another forest stretch, hunt for petrol, only to find the machines not working. Another 15 to 20 minutes of patient wait, and you have the fuel topped up. Navigation is becoming confused and I have to rely more on the inquisitive Indians, ever ready to be of help, than google. I miss the way and am taken through a very narrow and crowded street where a big mela of Rajapura temple fest is on. In spite of the very crowded street, people are not any that disturbed when we honk or request for space to move ahead, and I get back to the missed route near River Yamuna. I don't realise it is Yamuna. I don't even realise I have crossed into UP as I go across the bridge towards Kaushambi - then hit Manjhanpur, then Sirathu and go past the highway leading to Kanpur finally hitting the NH 30 again avoiding the eastward stretch to Prayagraj. The road is now better - four-lane - you ride past Raebareli. The only confusion is now to get onto Sitapur route without entering Lucknow town. Combining the help from helpful Indians all along and also the google, I strike the Sitapur road, only to find the UP capital with plain violation of traffic signals and police whistle, each one moving at will, and the police trying to do their bit without any show of irritation - perhaps, they don't feel irritated.
With the additional bundle to carry the ride was not comfortable. However, by 7.45 pm I am on the campus, exactly 7 days after I had left Thevara on 29th of November at 34600 kms and arriving on 5th November at 37226 kms - 2626 kms in all. Leaving the initial segment of 200 kms up to Coimbatore, It was about 2430 kms in 101 hours and 30 minutes (4 days and 5 hours) - with sufficient time for rest at night.
Though at times, I felt as if the bike was wobbling, in the end, the rider and the bike were intact.
EIA - 58 litres of fuel - almost at a mileage of 45 km/lit (44.83) and emitting almost 133 kilograms of CO2. If I were to travel otherwise, my drop off and pick up at Kalamassery, Coimbatore and Lucknow would have resulted in a maximum of 63 kilograms of CO2 (@1lit petrol - 2.3 kilos of CO2 & 1 lit diesel - 2.63 kilos of CO2), plus the ride to and from the stations for transporting the bike (around 5 kilos) and the likely additional emission in reaching up to the station for collecting the parcel. And the expenditures involved - on this trip, my fuel charges came to Rs. 6100.00; and other expenses around Rs. 250.00. For a retired bike the mileage was not bad, but it needs to be further fine-tuned. The advantages of meeting several friends, visiting several institutions, enjoying the new and differing terrains, assessing one's strength to persevere and withstand the impacts of a ride etc. come as a bonus, and definitely, the kick you get out of doing such things. I had a desire to break my own record of 678 kilometres in a day (Kalamassery to Adayar), I couldn't succeed in that. Had I travelled by train from Coimbatore to Sitapur. I would have taken perhaps one day less. All put together feel-good factor is high after the trip, and I am able to be back in the office as usual the next day.
I am grateful - for the ride, the health, the weather, the people, the places, and the affordability from all angles - I love the encounters though very brief - with the mountains, with the rivers - Kaveri, Tamsa, Mahanadi, Yamuna, Ganga. I love the evening meditations with the setting sun in the company of the psalms. These are beautiful glimpses on a speeding trip. I would love to ride slow, travel light, relish the environs, speak with people, pitch a tent on the way, when it is dark! Hopefully - another time.
<https://www.jagranjosh.com/general-knowledge/how-national-highways-are-named-in-india-1484805172-1>
<https://www.thebetterindia.com/1596/where-the-earth-meets-the-sky-timbaktu-collective/>
awesome Fr. Prasanth! You never cease to surprise and challenge us😉
ReplyDeleteGreat! Hats off!
ReplyDelete❤️🙏
ReplyDeleteRemarkable! You never fail to fill me with awe. Hope you will be safe always through these adventures.
ReplyDeleteYour elder bro.