A 470-km journey, on cycle, in 38 hrs

KL Noatay

Bicycle, a wonder machine, increases our on-foot mobility many times. The advantageous mode shames automobiles — no electric push, no fossil fuel dependence, no carbon emission, no environment pollution, no traffic snarls, light for cross-country lifting, health promoting, etc. No wonder, the World Health Organisation has instituted June 3 as International Bicycle Day. Here’s a connoisseur’s confession!

My village, Mehre, at Hamirpur in Himachal Pradesh, was sans bicycles in the 1950s, till a cousin brought the area’s first novelty and indulged me. My under-graduate alma mater at Hoshiarpur in Punjab impelled me to court one — a Hind. Bidding adieu to overcrowded buses, I pedalled extensively between college and my village home, 70 km one way, across three Shivaliks and two vales.

In 1957-58, a peer from Hoshiarpur cycled 400 km, nonstop to Delhi. Impelled, one October morning, I mounted my dynamo light-equipped Hind at 4 am, with the intent to pedal nonstop to Delhi! A railways’ recent offer to induct me into a station master course was the reason. Pedalling on level stretches and slight inclines, on foot, goading the cycle on steeper gradient and descending the last Shivalik, I was at Hoshiarpur before dusk. Famished, I had my fill at a roadside dhaba — delicious tandoori roti and maah ki dal.

I continued nocturnal pedalling on the kutcha-pucca direct road, 40 km towards Phagwara, to hit the GT Road. I cruised on through sleepy Phillaur, Ludhiana, Rajpura, Ambala City, Cantt, etc. At the time, the entire expanse — all stretches between semi rural towns and Delhi, each about 20-25 km long, waste or agrarian — was entirely uninhabited, sans any nearby hamlet for rest. The wilderness had no sarais, no rain-shelters, nor any hand-pump for quenching thirst. Old shisham trees, braving their age, appeared to be empathising with this vain night-rider.

Cycling on the GT Road — ‘grand’ as per Sher Shah Suri’s calling, but width-wise, only a single lane then — I loved riding on the metalled road, but would quickly take the kutcha berm to avoid blinding truck beams from the front or being hit by those overtaking from behind. There were no cars, nor night buses then.

Continuing my night cruise, I stopped wherever any dhaba-wallah was mercifully awake. I would dismount, seek pao milk-tea and take a 15-20 minute break. By twilight, I was near Nilokhedi. Close to dawn, a dhaba-wallah at the Karnal bus stand was up. Dog-tired, I stretched on his bench till a stuffed paratha with tea stirred me. Rejuvenated, I pedalled on leisurely, stopping for juice or samosa, wherever sighted. I was in Delhi before dusk, after a gruelling 470-km journey in nearly 38 hours. My posterior had developed burning blisters that took a week to nurse!

In these challenging Covid times, in the 83rd year of my existence, my doting kin keep me off my bicycle. I do miss the old, carefree days.

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