A midnight trip to Bhangarh

“Lets go and meet the ghosts tonight”, shouted Chopad with his infectious warm smile at the sector 50 parking lot.

The legendary party wizard Chopad would invariably infect you with his insanity. The last party ended up with me puking my guts out followed by a debilitating hangover for 2 days. It seemed, I had consumed a full bottle of neat Vodka followed by a wild goose chase which of course I don’t remember. The worst and the best things after these parties are the skillful drunken car drifts which never stop amazing you. With 90 degrees and 180 degrees of drift becoming a common affair, this guy introduced a first time 360-degree drift at Delhi Faridabad gravely road which is still afresh in my memory.

The theme of these parties is very simple - to get everyone super drunk. Let alone escaping these parties as sober, a person would be even abused and ostracised for holding a stigmatic beer or any drink which contained alcohol, lesser than the prescribed percentage. The person would then be forced to participate in a Bottoms Up drinking game which would include LIIT as the stealth mode drink which yielded the highest ROI. After these drinks I had often found myself in a situation where we would be racing against the flights taking off from IGI Airport or dancing in the winter rain at 3 am or simply puking and putting an end to the shit.

Thankfully he finally moved out to Chandigarh some months back. I was relieved that the insane parties were finally over and life was finally getting back to normal. I was resting at peace in my post retirement life from parties, sitting on my rocking chair, listening to U2, and sipping on a healthy watermelon juice when I saw a message flashing on my mobile screen.” I am coming to Delhi on 25th, be ready to party”. The parties simply never stop!

It was the wintry evening of 25th Jan 2016 when we picked up Chopad from ISBT Kashmeree gate. Who would have imagined that the night would slowly unfold into a never imagined adventure. After the pick up, we were off to Gurgaon for the evening with a bottle of Absolut and an Old Monk on board. Also on board was Ripon who apparently, according to him, had no role to play in the whole trip except for dancing with the pretty girls at BAR exchange.

In the end he would say ” Maine toh haan bhi nahi bola aur na bhi nahi bola”.

And there was Laal who had this constipated look on his face trying so hard to look disinterested.

Old monk rum and the music in the car had set the mood for the evening as we reached Gurgaon. The music and the drinks at BAR exchange, did the rest of the work. The alcohol really kicked in at 1 o clock midnight as we exited the pub.

“Lets go and meet the ghosts tonight”, shouted Chopad with his infectious warm smile at the desolated sector 50 parking lot.

“Lets go to Bhangarh and fuck some ghosts”, I shouted, trying to balance myself at the same time.

Although, Bhangarh sometimes used to come up in our party conversation, neither of us had the faintest idea about Bhangarh, except that it’s the scariest place of India. We took off on my car on the Jaipur highway. Like every other time, the driver for the evening was Chopad. The GPS was showing 3 and a half hours to Bhangarh as we left Gurgaon.

Now, we were driving at the right most lane on the highway. With the loud music and the alcohol pouring in into the glasses, the car swayed towards the left by some inches. By the time Chopad realized this, a truck from behind did the rest of the work. The left hand side rear view mirror was completely crushed away. The sound of the scratching metals penetrated into the cabin and there was a complete silence in the cabin amidst the loud music.

“Leave it man, it happens, I will fix it up tomorrow!”, I said in a reassuring way trying to take away his guilt. We were unfazed and continued on our most important mission at hand.

After driving for half an hour, we took a turn at Bhiwadi off NH8 highway and the fucking GPS was still showing 3 and a half hours to Bhangarh. That’s when we stopped to take a piss at the side of this desolated road. We assessed the situation, had some arguments for taking a U turn to Delhi. But who listens to each other when drunk. The worst and the best thing about being super drunk is that all logic and reasoning goes for a toss. The road ahead turned foggy with almost zero visibility at certain regions. It seemed that we were travelling through an array of fog tunnels. 

Somewhere on the way

It was an hour into the driving and we were passing through these small settlements which repeated themselves on the otherwise desolated foggy highway. We were driving at a mere 40 kmph as it was really difficult to see the road ahead when, in the middle of nowhere, we noticed this insane iron barricade blocking the entire road. There was a sudden screeching noise, the car wobbled, my drink splashed onto my trousers as we crashed straight into the barricade throwing it wide open. The three policemen standing at the side of the road were staring at us and we were gapping at them. About two valuable seconds were lost in this act of comprehending the situation. On the third second, the police started approaching our crashed car. It seemed like a Game Over situation from a car racing game.

The sign of ‘YOU ARE BUSTED’ was flashing in front of my eyes.

On the fourth second, our car was moving again brushing through the barricades bouncing off the potholes on the road, throwing away some dust, while the three policeman ran behind us in amazement. Within no time, we were cruising at 100kmph on the foggy highway. None could have pulled it off except the legendary Chopad. The feeling was like getting a new lease of life as we all knew the ramification of being caught. We were in awe of the whole episode for the next half an hour while suspecting every car approaching from behind as a potential police van.

At 4 in the wee hours of the morning, the alcohol had lost its effect and the trip was turning out to be tiring. We were in the middle of nowhere, blindly following the GPS, cruising along the spooky road that cut the foothills of Aravalli like a serpent. As we approached the Bhangarh territory through the gravelly roads and abandoned settlements, I did start believing the possibility of Ghosts. Specially because of this cunning bastard who was constantly rambling about how scared he was.

After an hour of painful off-road drive, we found ourselves riding through the narrow lanes and paddy fields. It was just then when we realized that we had taken a wrong turn as the GPS was showing 40 mins to Bhangarh for the past half an hour. The situation got worse when the only phone that was being charged from the USB switched off. Apparently the Phone was consuming more energy then what was being fed into it through the USB port. However, with some battery left on the other phone, we were able to navigate back to the main road after some twists and turns. It was 5 30 in the morning and still dark as we reached a roadside dhaba which had just opened up. Hot tea and parley G biscuits did the trick to relieve us from the felling of being lost.

“Bhaiya wahan pe bhoot dikhega abhi ?”

“Kahan sahab, abhi toh subha hone ko hai. Bhoot to raat ko dikhte hain”

“Log Barfi lejate hain bhooton ke liye. Aap bhi lejao”

The dhaba wala was knowledgable and kind enough to provide us some important information about the ghosts.

As we left the place, Chopad who was constantly driving till now gave up the driving seat while Ripon and Lal slept at the back of the car. As Chopad dozed off, I found myself to be the only one to face all the thrill.

Finally, it was sunrise when we reached the Bhangarh fort. I parked the car at the fort gate while the rest of the crew was still asleep. It was a feeling of a mission being accomplished. I came outside the car which smelt of alcohol and Ketchup. The Archeological Survey of India board on the front of the gate read that it is prohibited for tourists to stay inside the fort area after sunset and before sunrise. Locals say that whoever has tried to stay inside after sunset was never found. A strange chilly shiver ran through my entire spine as i peeped inside to see what was inside the gate.

Abandoned settlements inside Bhangarh Fort

Low in SPIRIT, high on energy

Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon 2016 - an experience of a first Marathon

There are so many reasons that I started running, so many reasons that I wouldn’t have continued but only one reason that kept me going. Yeah, I wanted to complete a Marathon before I turned 30 and it was high on my bucket list.

Someone told me that if its your first marathon, its got to be Standard Chartered Mumbai Marathon. And here I was standing at the line up section at the start of the race at CST. There was a feeling of apprehension and excitement, standing among the crowd in the dark and cold morning, waiting for the gun to fire.

I was apprehensive because, I felt I didn’t do much justice to my already under prepared training since I landed at Mumbai yesterday morning.

Besides having a stomach upset because of the spicy food at yesterdays lunch, I could barely get a sleep of 2 and a half hours at night. Earlier this morning, I boarded the local train from Thane station at 3:30 which was full of SCMM participants. I met this runner on the train, who also came from Delhi for his first marathon and, oh boy, was he prepared. He had ticked the entire array of checklist right from following a dedicated running plan, Carbo loading for the entire week to carrying gel bars for the race. Forget sticking to a training plan, my longest run in the past month hadn’t exceeded 10k. Forget Carbo loading, the breakfast that I had this morning was just 2 slices of bread and a banana. I was afraid whether it was too soon that I am attempting my Full Marathon. After all I was just 1.5 years into running and mere 2 half marathon old.

Well it was not that I was less informed. I had read tons of articles on running diet, exercise and training schedules. However, you just don’t get enough time out of the work schedule, parties and the drinking. I remember how I used to sometimes change into my running attire in my car at the traffic light just to save some precious time for running.

The race begins [pic courtesy SCMM 2016]

The countdown ended and the race started. It was exactly 5:40 by the clock. The historic Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus at the starting of the race looked stunning. The feeling of running on the dark streets of Mumbai under the street lights was incomparable to anything. I was surprised to see a lot of supporting crowd early at this hour.

In the initial stretch of 4 kms till Nariman Point, I found myself to be running rather slow owing to the packed runners on the road.  There were slow runners blocking your way and there were fast runners zipping past you. Although, I didn’t have a pacing strategy, the idea was to run by feel and target a finish time of a respectable 4 hours: 15 minute. However, as the race progressed till marine drive, the roads were wide open and I adjusted to my own comfortable pace. Running along the sea side amid the electrifying crowd and the Indian Navy band playing out just for you, felt like a deep privilege.

After crossing Chowpathy, at 10 km there was the dreaded Peddar road flyover which posed a real challenge as I felt slightly drained out of energy. And then, when there are volunteers handing out Energal and the crowd offering you bananas, you couldn’t feel much better.

The Worli- Bandra sea link at km 16 looked calm and poised. Today is the only day of the year when this bridge is thrown open to runners; a special privilege only for the SCMM participants. The sun rising precisely at that moment with sea on both sides of the bridge made for a good scenic view. A good occasion for the runners to pause and click pictures. Running the 6 kms stretch and inhaling the best possible air in Mumbai was a bliss.

Runners at the Worli-Bandra Sea link [pic courtesy SCMM 2016]

At the 21k timing mat, I registered a 2 hr 9 mins time which seemed acceptable and I continued at the same pace till  26k. That’s when I felt a mild headache and dizziness. Hitting the wall was the last thing I wanted today and I started walking for the first time in the race. That was when I learnt that it was damn difficult to start running again after a walk break.

At 30k, the elite Kenyan runners had started overtaking me with their long strides at cruising speed. I could feel the wind gushing at me as the other runners made way for them. The Indian elite runners were behind them by around 5 mins and I did recognize Nitendra Singh Rawat who was leading the pack.

At this point, my innermost toe which was rubbing against the shoe became worse. I knew that there was definitely a painful blister waiting to burst at any moment. The shoe that I was wearing was just a week old and was bought online at a highly discounted price. The price difference came with the ill fit and probably a damaged product which I realized just during the race.  It was a learning, the hardest way, for not trying anything new on race day.

My mind told me that It was impossible to carry on, while the pain in my legs supported that argument. My marathon had precisely begun at this time. I reminded myself that it was a mind over matter game. I just had to divert my mind away from the pain; which was easier said then done.The race from here on was a walk and run routine with the walk breaks getting larger and larger towards the end.

While a lot of beautiful girls in the crowd at Peddar road, 36k mark, did divert my mind for few seconds; a placard reading” Pain is temporary, Pride is Permanent” did really boost me up for the remaining race.

And in the end when the hours and hours of pounding on the asphalt exhausted me of all the energy, you had the crowd offering you salted oranges, bananas, chocolate bars, energy drinks, Parle G biscuits, home made cakes, candies to name a few.

And who could forget the strategically placed mist zones in the final kms. These water sprinkled mist zone tunnels would act like oasis in the desert taking away all the body heat and leaving you refreshed.

In the final 4 kms, when I was walking like the dead, it seemed that the whole of Mumbai had come out to cheer and resurrect me. I still remember the pretty girl in red top who literally came to my face and told me not to give up. I really thought that I was getting lucky but that’s a different story. I couldn’t have disappointed such a pretty lady and started running again.

Finally, I saw the last km mark. I couldn’t believe that I was so near but still far. That is when I told myself and every inch of my aching body, that I wouldn’t be walking this part. I pulled myself up, and started running with my head looking straight towards the finish line. The next moment, I found myself sprinting the last 100 meters and then, I took my final step across the finish line, 4hrs and 35 mins after I began.

Final yards to the finish line

The feeling of defying all odds, competing against myself and completing my first full marathon cant be described. It was the best feeling in the whole world. The pain, the exhaustion, the breathlessness and everything else sunk in the background; what was left was the divine feeling of pure bliss and accomplishment. I felt like a different person, more like a superhuman, invincible till the end. And yes this was an achievement, I proudly ticked off my bucket list.