Chronicles of an Eclectic Life: cycling

Showing posts with label cycling. Show all posts

Showing posts with label cycling. Show all posts

Monday, August 31, 2015

Ride to R, Passive Politeness

Sunday was a timeless one. I could've been 22, 25, or in the present, living out the same Sunday. It started on the bike, and peaked between the fifth and eighth hour of the day. It was a long break since the last I'd been out on a bike. Delhi, however, easily grows back on me, now that I have indexed it well, and it takes only a while out there, to get back into enjoying the city.

It was a small loop, to Rajpath and back. The sea of humanity along Rajpath / India Gate was touching. Some activity groups noticed: Cyclists, Runners, Skaters, Motorbikers. It was surprising to not see any Yoga groups, now that Yoga has been endorsed to epic levels. A Sunday feature are Segways, offloaded from minivans, for the tourist or for a demo to prospective clients - this being the only place I've seen them in action. I can think of our bird sanctuaries doing with a few Segways. The lawns either side of Rajpath were still lined with pockets of floral blooms - yellow, white, magenta like an artist's dab of the brush.

I wiled some time at the lawns before heading back. There was a injured pigeon spotted earlier, which was unfortunately missing on the way back (or fortunately?). Rajpath sees injured birds often ending up there, maybe the open lawns giving them visibility (as against cover of the urban canopy). I could imagine riding out with bag with a bird compartment, which could come handy for such situations, alongwith a short detour to the Jain Bird Hospital at Lal Qila (in Old Delhi). Felt like asking the kids out for a game of Football, but didn't and instead kept it for later. Also, first time I went up a tree upside down.

Back home, the day was about evading boss and alleviating other similar afflictions. Studied a bit. Slept a good while. Each of the days are colorful ways of plays of reality (even in the imagination) but the progress of time keeps me jittery.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Sunday, July 12, 2015

sunday morning ride

I am supposed to start as a professional, on the last day of this weekend, for a change, and I'll do that soon.

Rode out early today. The phrase 'riding out early' (and its derivates) has seen rare use through two years. There hasn't been a single 'trip' to count for, since the pedal through Konkan coastline back in 2013. Since then I have been relegated to love, and my bike has been relegated to a curio piece in the anteroom of homes that we have switched over the years. How guilty I feel about Godiva being raised a city girl (or rather, enduring the city); she is made for a mountains, being an MTB. In some ways today was a commitment to make amends. Sadly my organism experiences new endings and beginnings every week, and claims to be very messed up in times and schedule, which when sorted, would also allow me to get her to taste some Himalayan tarmac. Oh, and fix her first - just a body part replacement and modest servicing needed.

The rainy morning was a great bonus. 'Rainy morning' sees rare use too, in terms of direct experiene. I had 'Delhi' all over me at the end of the ride. Delhi that came from left right, down, and top, in the way of water and grime. That Delhi was washed away in Liril and Fructus. The roads that get waterlogged invite dodging hence increasing the chances of danger. Thinking of that, I took a circuitous-but-good route (good tarmac that I could recall) that took me next to a large stadia and other large structures - like the Supreme Court, India Gate, etc - that constitute Lutyen's Delhi, followed with impromptu plans of a detour to the river Yamuna via Akshardham flyover, and ended with a topping on the cake called Barapullah.

Riding out in the chaos of rains was fun. Such days make even healthy organisms feel sick. My sickness was in the form of nostalgia. In the days of the early wars, when recording illnesses, causative agents behind diseases (like Meningitis) were rather inaccurately identified, a lot of sicknesses - and in some cases deaths - would be attributed to 'nostalgia' or 'melancholia'. Memories spilled out instead of sweat and coagulated instead of blood. The human humdrum, the rain, and the ride make for such moments.

A large cluster of kites (cheelein) occupied the skies of Nizamuddin. Slaughterhouses (cut) open early, y'know. Predators on wings encircling the city, watching with telescopic gaze to take a grab at the first piece of meat their eyes meet. Stripping out anthropomorphical/metaphoric context, the sight of these birds in the city is beautiful and welcome, but not the fact that abattoirs sustain them today. Also, a pity to see no vultures formed that large group.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Sunday, May 24, 2015

morning duties

Oddly sane morning. Broke out of the spell of work and code. Went out for a ride, it was a fast one, where I averaged over 26, and surely hit 30 many in those cadence-peak moments. It is hard to do so with a bike with slipping gear-shifts (thanks to a worn out rear cassette that has been calling for replacement since the last year), and a phone the dimensions of a brick in your backpocket that felt gone on any bumps (and Delhi roads have many). Here's to a bit more tuning to the days. I've been on tuning for the past month, but in the past week the force seems strong.

Well, I keep breaking my routines, and then having these resurgent phases where the first few outings induce striking reflections, a commoner's beginnings - idealistic, sometimes-lofty, over-indulgent, over-promising. I guess that doesn't just apply to cycling. Indulgence should keep to action, only then will it be tolerated. Indulgent traits in me continue well into home, like right now. I might not be projecting lofty futures, but surely appealing for some.

So what do I do on a morning where things have started with a fix to a nagging code issue and a full hour of cycling? Sleep.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Uncommon morning sights

Leaving out for the ride this morning, I bumped into some news right around the corner. There were fire trucks lined up around the folk art stores. Upon return, I wasted no time to rush out again, with my camera. It was the DCCI - Delhi Crafts and Cottage Industries - showroom that had been gutted.

Mornings are a good time to be out. All the screwups of the past night lay exposed, the skeletons out, awaiting the janitor to do a cleanup job. In this janitorial role is the police, the fire department, the hospitals, the garbage men, the scrap dealers, and the tow trucks. Being a cyclist, I sometimes get to see these uncommon scenes, too. Today's scene reminded me of a coupla' more that immediately come to mind.

An upturned ice truck (they vend huge ice slabs). The ice slabs had spilled all over the road.
This was on the Noida-Greater Noida Expressway.

Roadkill. A neelgai (blue bull). This was on the GFR.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Peeking over the city skyline

The nature of a city is such, that despite the hours of 'crazy' that set it alive (and apart from smaller towns), there is a ribbon of time connecting a day to the next, when the crazy settle down and the city mulls over what is to come. This ribbon of time, as the one who is on the move will realize, is redolent of our childhoods. Warmly redolent, despite the freezing winter chill.

It had to happen. I got out this morning, a few hours short of counting two weeks that I've been back to my home ground. Despite a capricious nature of schedule (and sleeping habits), which on one hand had me forever pine for an early start, but on the other had me puzzled seldom being up very early, today's act had to wait for this long. I think it was the switch to Foundation that brought this change.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Sunday, December 02, 2012

getting a hang of the trekkies

Fought the ganda-wala Dilli ka traffic on my humble bike - weaving in and outta grid of metal boxes of quadruple to centuple the dimensions of the bike, accelerating and braking constantly, switching from the tarmac to the footpaths to the service lanes, jumping traffic signals, keeping the urge to blurt out 'bhenchods' to the ignorant motorists at bay - to catch a presentation at the IHC. That presentation was of a unique nature - a high altitude trek; one that marked a first, of a civilian team making it from the Nelang Valley to the Saraswati Valley through Basisi Col. High altitude, mountaineering expedition, and civilians; this one had a lot for me, and gave me a break from the ongoing Shahi Paneer and Butter Chicken marathon at home (my tummy would also be thankful).

Made it to the Gulmohar Hall, a bit late - lemme put it this way, that when I started climbing the Safdarjung flyover, these guys started climbing from Gangotri; when I was huffing past the decorated facade of the Islamic Cultural Center, these guys were huffing on some moderate slopes towards their Day 3 basecamp; when I made it into the hall, these guys were on Day 3. Quick them, quicker me. The hall was packed. I found the last unoccupied seat, backbencher as always.

Their presentation was in the form of a movie. The movie itself was a scrappy deal - all the while I was thinking of the shortfall in technicalities that could've been overcome. That aside, the presentation as a whole, put the route and the team in good perspective. The Basisi Glacier coming into view was breathtaking, the money shot, I'd say. A Q&A session followed, which seemed a worthy addition to the movie. One exhilarating aspect was how these guys used 'jugaad' of Google Earth for their route planning and map requirements - stitching together screenshots to make larger scale prints, and even capturing their marked route on camera before leaving. A surprising aspect of it was to learn the level of novice involved here, one even I felt I could match (imagine that one in their team was trekking after 8 years). What was sad was to see that their greatest skill in the whole project was gaining permissions from various SDMs and other departments, a lengthy and dirty process of recommendations through long chains of friendship.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Spiti on the Rooftop

Set out cleaning my bike yesterday - to tend to its injuries after those 5 days of agony in the distant tracts of Himachal the week before. After a late inspiration in the evening to do so, and finding my portable tube-lamp non-functional (damn you, Philips), I managed in the narrow white cone of my bike light. The Rohtang/Spiti dust was everywhere to see; I brushed away loads of it - from the tires, the spokes, the brakes, the chainring, the cassette, the derailleurs, and not to forget the frame itself. Clearly when the trip was over a week back, it wasn't really over.

There's still some more dismantling-and-cleaning to do. I already replaced the troublesome rear tube which expelled air faster than someone under the influence of Rajmah. There's the entire crankset-and-casette assembly to disassemble and fix, the chain to clean, the disc brakes to tweak, and also the rear derailleur to realign. That's for this evening, probably consuming the entirety of it, but which is good - lately, making my unpresence felt in the place of my dwelling has been the least offensive thing I can do.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Sunday, April 08, 2012

mixing the two

woke up sleeping next to a guy
injecting bananas into the bloodstream for a sustained high
riding out to home
like bees on a pollen, the people crowd around the dark knights
the ghosts of yesterday engaged in a bloodbath on the road
more flowers, more pollen, more bees
bees that buzz endlessly, and that claim omnipresence
bees that force out gossip of some chieftain's glowing aspirations
sweet core of a red fruit to congest the viscera
selfish intentions rising to the core
the kid who gets duped
the clowning caught on videotape
awaiting surprises
ending up in a hotel room
staring at a bare shaved crack - inviting a lick
going up to the angry birds
and moms in discussion
no direction home
sit and dream
death by a horse
awaiting one final hit

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Closing celebrations for 2011 now online

Moar pictures! I bid farewell to 2011 in my own style. It seems its the festivals when I find myself the time to decorate my site, and update others on my life - "life", as long as I could call myself among the living.

Here's the gallery to Chakrata bike trip (bike != motorbike), which me, and my partners-in-crime C and V (the other V) did on Christmas eve.

Here's the gallery to the Haida Khan to Babiyar to Guniyalekh trek, on New Year's eve, which was a solo effort.
Walking in Jim Corbett's footsteps, truly, as this would be the same route he'd do to reach Kala-Agar (presently known as Kalagarh), where he shot 'The Chowgarh Tigers' - one (the cub) in 1929, and the other (the mother) a year later in 1930.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Friday, January 20, 2012

Remember the time

Sunbeaten, yet soaked, you sit, resting your head on your backpack. Against sleep that slowly creeps up, you remind yourself of the long way ahead on this day, to merely ensure that you can spend a comfortable night. From the corner of your sight a shape rolls in, the same horizon where you just rolled in from. It is soon deciphered to be a motorbike. Another loner like you, only that you are two, which, though, makes the journey safer, but no more convenient.

The loner stops a stone's throw from you, ceasing the thumping engine with a croak. And pulls out a handycam. The tall mountains, the pristine lake, the deserted yellow paddle boat, the cloud of dirt across the tattered tarmac... everything in good focus for a sensational retelling of your memories. Then a tilt shot - from one of the surrounding peaks, down to the two cyclists who seem drained of all energy (and some of the zeal from earlier in the day) but without any signs of hesitation of finishing the day elsewhere ahead. To him, this is heroic. A 'Cool, guys!...' trails from his mouth involuntarily from some primal corner. Those two cyclists make the feature in this clip, one that connects with the ideal we've always drawn up for ourselves; all the rest becomes an establishing shot, kinda an entree, an introduction to the cooler of the cools, amid an amphitheatre of peaks.

When you look at yourself cramped or beaten-out, remember the time.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Friday, December 23, 2011

Tragic Ambitions

The "storehouse of snow" beckons me on yet another weekend. Disguised as Rishikesh-yet-again, I will be up to (pun intended) more exciting stuff than your mothers can imagine. Now, don't start imagining yourself, since I doubt if you've ever exercised those faculties - metaphorically speaking, you're imagination fits a 30B. Admittedly, I won't be deflowering freshly fallen snow beneath my feet, or any snow for that matter, but there is a disciplinary shift involved here. Additionally, I shall be a witness to all those towering deities - that present a panoramic delight - whose names Ghoru throws into conversations as casually as the Indian (cricket) team lineup.
My return from this risque Himalayan circuit coincides with Boukreev's 14th death anniversary, which also coincides when I will start with reading his narration of the epic 1996 Everest (mis-)adventure.

On other fronts, things are holistically fucked-up.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Thursday, December 08, 2011

Sea Squirts!

I cycled really early in the morning. It wasn't too cold - I believe the likes of Ponds, Vaseline, and Boroplus will be annoyed at that fact, and presently forming some covert coalition to make the air dry. The traffic was an iota more in volume, and an iota less in discipline than I expected, but nonetheless manageable (as in i-can-listen-and-sway-to-velvet-underground-while-admiring-the-sunrise manageable).

I was on a self-appointed mission today.
Its conception goes back 4 days to the Sunday, when I, in the company of my really sexy girlfriends (yes, plurii), enroute to a friend's sis' wedding - one whose monologues once orbited only two words: 'vibhu' and 'love' - laid eyes upon this screaming cultural artifact amidst the bustle of Paharganj, and decided to return some day to fully absorb it. [Well, most of it is true, besides the girlfriend(s) part, and the hyphenated digression. But do you really need to pick on things when I'm on a mission here?! ... jeez... so...] My escape from the luxuriant trapping of the mink blanket had got me delayed (a 0635 departure, while the idealist inside me wanted 0615) which meant that my window of return shifted beyond the dreaded 8AM frame, but despite that, I was prepared to go all the way, and take the primitive Delhi traffic, consumed with the fear (and thereafter the guilt) of missing out on the spectacle that I just had to keep for a memory. I was lazy on Monday, unwilling on Tuesday, and lazy again on Wednesday; so today had to be it.

Got to Paharganj by 0730. Much to my relief, the aforementioned cultural artifact was still there, erect, menacingly surveying the sleepy junta of Old Delhi, threatening to stomp their tiny existence.

Seems like T-Rex was visiting India and decided to do a little modeling. Ryan North would be so, uh, proud?

This hoarding here is awesome, ironic, and hilarious.

Awesome for the obvious reasons. Planet Qwantz would love it.

Ironic because it speaks against the foreign investments in India that will, likely, unjustly crush the traders, and about going Anti-Walmart. Yet Mr. Designer here decided to use an artwork of a Canadian artist, lifted off the internet for free (who cares about copyright, right?). Way to be just. Or maybe he just loved the tee to obsession.

Hilarious, because those goony men showing teeth look more menacing on the hoarding than our favorite T-Rex here. I wish Utahraptor could join in.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Notes on the 200km Brevet this Sunday

Photos:
My (excess) gear, the starting venue in Gurgaon (Haryana), about 30km into the day, beginning of Nuh Ghati climb, first Control at Nuh, resting midway with fellow strangers, curious children at second Control at CCD

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Sunday, October 16, 2011

cycling 200km

have to leave in a flash. gonna be with dinosaurs of the delhi ncr cycling circuit. for 13 and a 1/2 hrs... yikes!
4 in the morning. i have managed to misplace a glove. curses. have to be out, anyways. for 13 and a 1/2 hrs...
always told my parents i'm not in the right company.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Short ride and back

Back from a short loop on the bicycle that made me shed exactly 2 sweat-drops worth of effort. Sad, I know, but I had to switch sides at the floral loop ahead of Sec 18 that goes over and merges back into the Greater Noida - Delhi road; the traffic congestion was too obvious to decide against. It usually isn't so, when I get my dose of adrenaline (spiked with minor amounts of dust, sand, and vehicular exhaust) with a long loop in the geometrical plane that also seems like a loop in the temporal plane - into the past, I meant. Well, obviously, we only have the capacity to think into the past, because we cannot think into the future, because the 'future' - even though it already exists by my theory - lies in an unprocessed, raw form, upon which the 'present' acts and processes into the 'past' so we could really get a grasp on the temporal dimension, only that its after it will have happened.

References to traverse back on the temporal plane, or 'Into the past', is a vague term now, anyways, a dimension that spans across 4 cities of varying geographical content, across 3 beverages of varying sugar content, across 5 kinds of alcohol of varying age and proof, across 3 kinds of chocolates of varying cocoa content, across several kinds of food, across 3 bicycles of varying built (ATB/Road/MTB), across 3 accidents of varying horridness, across some-dozen friends and acquaintances of varying 'je-ne-sais-quoi' factor, and across 4 institutes that constituted my engagement at all times. In the wisdom I sense upon myself right now, I say "Ameen" to this realisation - that the past is dense and scattered enough to not bait myself back into.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

I literally, like, died there, dude

Adventurally-isolated Indians have a way of exaggerating anything that is remotely adventurous. They then deify it too. Then come the falsifications.

Thus a small trek in the Nainital forests becomes a "battle against survival", a trip to Kedarnath becomes "playing at God's footsteps", a trek to Vaishno Devi becomes "a miracle story", and a hired-taxi ride to Rohtang Pass wearing ridiculous astronaut suits becomes the last word in adventure for a huge chunk of populace - the only thing bigger than this is when you also hire those unimaginative wooden sledges at Rohtang Pass, pushed by skinny Nepalis, who take your picture then push you off the snowy/muddy slope at the guarantee of a harmless slow descent. That's one up on life!

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Friday, August 05, 2011

Flecha and Hoogerland car accident Tour 2011

Notice the second guy, at the back, running off-road and into the barbed wire fence. The faint of heart wouldn't wanna read about it.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Road Eater Diaries

That feeling of your muscle blocks shifting as a cohesive packed unit, pulsing through every rotation of the paddle - which is actually their indicator to being on threshold of a muscle cramp – is painful but nostalgic. I get that every few months (irregularly) – that one assaulting morning in Manali in Oct before this, cycling to Karjat in Sept before that, and then all the way back in the Season 1 of cycling in Mumbai. My body, seemingly, uses a lot of water towards the welfare of those feet pumping on the paddles and synching the motion for the entire body, which on long distances always translates to a cramp or thereabouts.

This was this morning. About 45km (damn, couldn’t even touch 50). WE and onwards upto Varsava/Ghodbandar (lying in Thane district, not Mumbai), where the highway running along the national park forks to right, and skirts the land mass on lower side of the creek to join Thane city. At that junction we all had a gathering at this very popular eating joint, and cyclists with smiling faces (and some with envious bodies) exchanged small talk. Today was a disappointing affair – 0720 when we (Priya and I) left home, no pushing circumstances thanks to Zubair and Co’s pathetic cycling. 0917 when I made it to the gathering venue, and while waiting for the peloton behind me called up home to confirm of my resurgence in the action circuit: Not to say that I’ve been inactive and piling my weight in peanuts; I have really worked on starving myself during office hours to the point of achieving better control on my snacking, and then there’s the spirited skipping- pushups-and-crunches-while-dinner-cooks routine that I’ve lately enforced on myself. However nothing beats the kick from any outdoor activity, and with cycling it’s about a great start to a day, seeing the city while it sees you on the wheels sweating and pumping, and riding out with generally interesting folks. Let’s not lose the context of shivering winter mornings, or humiliating road conditions en-route, or the embarrassment of a midway puncture, or the painful journey post-cramping (in case you get one), or the statistical fact of your time spent waiting for the others equaling the time you would actually cycle. But nothing beats the experiential wisdom of it all. Living the life unlived.

On the mingling front, met with a bunch of old timers – mostly road bikers, possibly even with competitive history in the sport, proud of their mean old machines that still burn the roads, and a great capacity of making and sharing nonsense. The oldest of the lot – must be in his 60s or 70s – was an exceptional cyclist, ignoring his nervous affinity to conformity. Had audience and shared Keema and Masala Egg Scrambled with Kedar, Priya alongside. Among the bikes was a Mercedes one, one Eddy Mercx Special Edition, and one excessively-large-hybrid-wheeled Trek that caught my eye. Amitabh’s new Trek got stolen, as I heard, so he’s switched to a folding bike that he could well keep inside his home. Priya still cycles as bad – she had to catch an Auto from somewhere between Borivali and Kandivali on our return leg; it was freedom for me and I sprinted home thereafter.

Got back by 1144, bathing-and-shaving done by 1211, then next hour spent loitering about indecisive and conversing with Harsh Da, Aditi over chat, then the next four hours in deep restorative slumber.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Monday, December 07, 2009

Bicycle accident (04 dec)

I hurt myself today,
To see if I could feel.
I focus on the pain,
The only thing that's real.

...except that besides pain, I saw the callousness of Mumbai traffic, the greed of autowallahs and the assumptions of our society. And no, I didn't focus on the pain, but on the subconscious mind that was already expecting it, and on the face of Lance Armstrong as he welcomed me into the podium of cyclists who've met awesome crashes.

You see, I had an unbelievable accident on my bicycle today - unbelievable for many reasons, including the filmi escape from a concussion even after going head-on at 45kmph, and only minor cosmetic damage.

(lyrics above from NiN's HURT - a song running in my head through 2008)

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Delhi morning

These are the kind of scenes one comes across on a gray Delhi morning. The fucked-up truck needs no explaining. The birds here are parrots. There were at least 200 of them all over, decimating the maize crop in the farmlands along Yamuna.

Parrot Gang (by uhbiv)

Can you believe that there roam people on Delhi roads with a streak of utalitarianism?!

First come these folks on scooter, out for catching some morning breeze. They make their mornings worth by helping out the cart and rickshaw pullers on long/steep stretches - by pushing their carts with their left foot, while having their scooters on full throttle; the carts soon acquire great velocities and hurtle down the empty roads. One such person I came across was bent on helping two at a time, time sharing thier pushes.

Then is the tacit agreement between auto-rickshaw drivers and handicaps on wheelchairs. Detailing one such sighting: the auto-rickshaw slows down for a wheelchair-bound-man on the Delhi-Ghaziabad highway, and after the man has a good hold of the machine, they speed away. The handicap finally lets go of the auto-rickshaw when his wheelchair exceeds 60kmph, and then cruises along for as long as the speed holds. Cyclists and motorcyclists, unaware of this mode of acquiring velocity, gawk at the handicap as he overtakes them. The handicap runs out of speed, and looks back for any approaching auto-rickshaws; his face a testament to the taste of speed he's just had. I cycle past him, reciprocating his spirit.

Widget by Css Reflex | TutZone

Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)