How Shall I put this ??

When I had last posted my blog, I had less than a week to go for my exams.. I ponder spark of boredom inspired me to log-on and check my blogs.. Remembering my homeland ?? Perhaps. But, Nostalgia ?? Definitely !! It was going to be my first birthday away from family, and I needed to feel a little connected .
Obviously, you are now wondering why I am re-starting my blog entry this way. Right again, it is nostalgia. Its been more than a year since I came back from the UK and almost a year since I started to work for a well known consulting company. But the nostalgia ?? Yes, its about Cleo. For those who dont know, Cleo stands for Cleopatra, my dashing Black Pulsar 180 UG3 that I parted with back in 2008. The black shining piece of engineering marvel brought a smile everytime I even went near it.
My short stint of professional career within consulting had given me a good lot of stuff I wanted from my childhood. Money, travel, respect, envy (from others), brand value and more…… But had robbed me of three most important things..


My Friends : My gang back in Bangalore, DX had been slowly disintegrating and without me in the picture, it sure was difficult to build it back.


My Family : After living off a suitcase for more than 10 months, I had realised I could never visit my family instinctively (further reducing chances of planning a vacation for my own).


My Bike: From a young age, I had been more into two wheels than four. I thought, perhaps its the age, I was sure of graduating on to having a fetish for four wheels once I grew up. Alas, it wasn’t to be. After failing the UK driving test 5 times, I had been more than wishing “If only the test was on a motorbike”. I had tasted it all.. The wind in the hair, the tingle which crawls up when you are approaching a corner, the adrenaline when you corner, the endorphins when you see a smooth wide open tarmac surface.

But my job had gobbled it all. I had barely sat on a two wheeler for over 4 months let alone riding it on the highways. AND So, I retreated to the forums, pleasuring myself with the excerpts of bikers and their tours on It wasn’t an ideal situation, but sure was an oasis in the desert of my profession.

It wasn’t long that I had taken the decision to book a bike for myself, whether or not I had the pleasure of riding it (I knew more often than not, I wouldnt even get near it). I had long fantasized about riding to the distant land of the Himalayas. For, I had read travelogues, hundreds, enough to know the roads and places by the tongue tip. I wanted to soak in the pleasure of seeing the piligrimage of bikers, bask in the glory of the holy grail of biking; it was the trip to Khardungla-top.

I feel obligate to continue but I am going to stop here.. and there is a good reason why ..

I am 1000 miles from my bike, 1500 miles from my home with no hope of getting back anytime soon.. The bike awaits its master.. But the master awaits for his return.. For when the ride, born from the finest of the Steeds and perfected by its creator takes birth from within the fire of the Ferrum in its homeland, , I will return to feed the Honda CBR 250 its first drop of fuel..