The World through my Windshield: Monsoon Drive with Team HVK (Jul '13)

“Kshitija, game?” I asked her the moment I read about the strangest plan I had ever heard. “Yes” she said without enquiring about the details. The rest, as they say, is history.

The Man

Once every year when the skies open wide, different creatures display their very own unique mannerisms – peacocks flare their precious tails and dance away to glory, fire flies light up their butts and parade around in a fizzy, crickets rub different parts of their bodies together to produce that unholy screeching sound… a breed that call themselves ‘HVKians’ on the other hand crawl out of their garages with well-oiled vehicles and await orders from their Chief – a tall & lanky madman named HV Kumar.

HVK is the Rajnikant of Indian Highway Motoring and it is fabled that even Google Maps consult him before adding or modifying their routes! A la the starship enterprise, HVK and his Scorpio have dared to go where no car has gone before and in the process discovered hitherto non-existent roadways for the benefit of other such madmen who follow in his footsteps (or rather his mud tracks!).

This year a call-to-arms was finally declared by HVK just a couple of weeks ago only after the Rain Gods convinced him that they have indeed been working hard. “Fuel up, we’ll be leaving soon” was the expanded summary of the cryptic message that he then delivered.

The Plan

40 cars to drive in convoy formation for 2 days, he said. “For what purpose?” they asked. Silence.

100 people to drive and stay together all the time, he said. “In which city?” they asked. Silence.

500 kilometers of exhilarating driving, he said. “But where to?” they asked. Silence.

Meet me at the Base Camp at 6:00 am sharp on Saturday, 20^th July ‘13. “But…. Okay, we’ll be there.”

The Drive

By the time I knocked off my work on Friday it was already late evening, so exactly 130 kms and a tyre puncture later I finally arrived home from Pune around 11:00pm. Kshitija had planned for the trip all week, the kids had bathed and gone to sleep early and even the travel bags were packed and lying ready by the door. As I gobbled some chicken with my beer at midnight, I too could feel a ripple of excitement wondering what was in store in just a few hours from now.

Woke up after a 4 hour nap, came down and placed the luggage in the car boot, cleaned the windshield in pouring rain and performed a final critical check of the vehicle. Satisfied, I returned to find that Kshitija and the kids were wide awake and sitting bright & ready for yet another road adventure. After I grabbed a quick hot shower, we were all more than ready to roll.

As I reached the Base Camp on Ghodbunder Road (a location which by the way was informed to us only a few hours earlier!) about 15 mins before the scheduled hour, I saw 3 cars already parked in formation with their tail lights flashing. Since I was sure no other person in their right minds would step out at this unearthly hour while it was pouring buckets like this, I too parked behind the last car, pulled on a wind cheater, stepped out of car and walked over to introduce myself to the others. One by one more cars started to arrive, until we had built up a queue almost half a kilometer long. It was right then that I knew it was going to be one heck of a weekend.

HVK arrived, shot out crisp instructions to his organizing committee and the entire convoy was split into teams quickly and effectively. As I was part of HVK’s team, we were the first to move, trying our best to keep up with his manic pace. No one had a clue as to where we were going. All he said was “North” in a tone that implied “Why the hell do you even want to know?” Have you ever seen a convoy of 40 cars racing at 120 kms/hr on a rain battered morning across a busy highway? Oh what a magnificent sight that was!

After 2 hours of high speed driving, our navigators received an instruction on their mobile sets indicating the first pit stop. We were asked to regroup near Charoti Naka, and from there we were led on to an off-road trail designed mainly for bullocks carts I believe. 40 cars bundled their way blind, one behind the other like sheep being led to a slaughter. However the narrow trail eventually led to a clearing along the banks of a river - one of the most scenic spots one could possibly have chosen for something otherwise as mundane as breakfast.

The raging waters of the Damini River echoed through the air as we hungrily gobbled on Batata Vadas, Cup Cakes and cutting Chai (which stubbornly refused to come out of its large kettle for some unknown reason). Oh, and the food was of course procured magically out of thin air by HVK’s trusteds, the first of many more such conjuring acts which were to follow. “If any of you litter the place I’ll kick all your backsides” or something to that effect was conveyed by HVK, and once again large garbage disposal bags were plucked out of the air and all the trash was disposed off safely.

Breakfast done, the HVK team started placing strips of yellow tape on the far edges of the right-side headlamps on each of our cars. I have done my share of motoring in this country to know at least this – we were going to head out of our state and into Gujarat from here on! I couldn’t restrain myself longer and asked the Chief “Can you tell us where we are heading to now?”. “Sure”, he said “we are going to Nargol.” “Eh, where is that?”. Silence. Damn, should have known better than to ask!!

We sped away again, but however this time with me and the car in front zooming off in a completely bizarre direction. Before we read another cryptic message that said “Turn left” we had already flown off straight ahead on NH-8 in our enthusiasm, only to realize that the next U-turn was 6 kms ahead! We turned around and raced back to catch up with the convoy, which decided to enjoy a leisurely stroll along Dahanu Beach until the wandering sheep returned. From there on, the convoy drove all along the mesmerizing shore line across Bordi, Gholvad and beyond. After driving for another couple of hours, by which time we had crossed into Gujarat state, we were asked to turn left into Nargol – a sleepy beach town about 20 kms away from Moti Daman. We were led to a quaint old Parsi bunglow where our lunch had been organized. 40 cars parked themselves in the expansive courtyard, lined with tall pine trees in the background. We all topped our plates with food, shamelessly went back for second helpings and basically went at it like famished school kids after a football match. Later, some decided to go for a stroll by the beach, some took a nap on the large Parsi cots inside the bunglow, while I myself rested in the confines of my car (which had anyway doubled up as my second home for now).

The entourage then started once more, this time driving upto Moti Daman and doing a little tour of Daman Fort alongside the jetty, while stunned onlookers stopped by and watched the procession which was bigger that Narendra Modi’s Rath Yatra! From Daman we headed back towards Silvassa and stopped there for a re-fuelling halt and later on for some ‘tapri chai’. Drove into the amazingly scenic Dadra Nagar & Haveli province and for the first time the entire convoy lined up at a halt right behind one another in the middle of an expansive paddy field. Once again tripods and large lens cameras were magically conjured and the surreal imagery was captured on to picture frames.

* This picture courtesy Piyush Chaudhary

We were given two options from thereon, either head out to the unknown destination across the predictable highway route or else follow HVK and gang on a wild, tribal route. Little did we know what lay in store when we all chose the latter though! The road meandered between a long stretch of palm trees on either side and we moved through several tribal settlements along the way. They watched in awe as it seemed evident that most of them had never even seen so many cars before, let alone an entire cavalcade together! Mothers came forward with their half-naked children and many of us, emotionally moved by the evident poverty and neglect, stopped and offered biscuits, juice boxes and snacks to them from our own stocks. My daughter too handed over a lollipop to a li’l naked 3 year old who grabbed it joyously.

From there on the path then suddenly led on to an entirely uninhabited terrain across something that vaguely resembled a ‘road’. With our hearts in our mouth and our feet alternating rapidly over the 3 pedals, we somehow braved the misery. Many of us may have even started to read the ‘Hanuman Chalissa’ or similarly prayed to more benevolent angels to take them across in one piece. After having done this, I am super confident that I can now even drive my Honda Amaze on the surface of the moon!

Having miraculously survived, we finally reached safer and smoother ground. The landscape changed drastically once again and the slushy-stony road was replaced by a beautiful drive through a path completely lined by closely spaced Nilgiri trees. The air was thick with the strong scent of eucalyptus and we all raced away once more at break-neck speeds. The destination was then informed to us in one word “Jawahar”. We twisted & turned and climbed & swayed in tune with what that incredible route had to offer. We drove like this through the fading twilight for about 3 hours, until finally we could see the resort perched on top of a hill, beckoning to us like a welcoming lighthouse.

Tired souls settled in for the night. Women folk grabbed dinner and put the exhausted kids to an early bed. Many of the men folk on the other hand sought their peace through an alternate form of liquid therapy. This team comprised of people from all ages and different walks of life. Many had driven down even from Delhi and Bangalore just to make it here for this event. We did not know each others’ backgrounds and yet it was amazing to see how well people bonded, even those who were perfect strangers just until a few hours ago. We spoke of highways and cars and rambled out heroic tales like soldiers after a victorious war!

As I went to bed, I fell asleep dreaming of revving engines and Sunset Singh’s beard.

* This picture courtesy Sandeep Shah

In the morning, people were free to choose their own calling. Some went for a short drive to see the mighty Dabhosa Waterfall. Many lazed around in the resort itself falling prey to the extraordinary selling tactics of one singularly spirited HVKian by the name of TV, who possessed the ability to sell a burkha to a Hawaiian and a bikini to a Sheikh!

I myself split from the convoy and left a little earlier. I drove out on the road from Jawahar to Nashik which was a perfect return route. We passed the mighty Vaitarna which is surrounded by hills dotted with several beautiful waterfalls. On an impromptu decision, we decided to head into Nashik city for lunch rather than head back home in a hurry. After savouring a leisurely lunch we then headed out on NH-3, which seemed like just dull and monotonous concrete as compared to the super exotic locales we had traversed through for the past 18 hours.

As we were heading back, we heard that the HVK team too was on their way from Goti to Thane and had stopped at a dhaba enroute for lunch. Without a thought we headed straight out to meet them once again. What we had shared in these past couple of days was indescribable and the bond that pulled us back to them felt too strong to resist. We unashamedly jumped them once more even as they were tearing into their tandoori rotis and slurping on their gravies. Spent some time there chatting up idly before leaving them once more to race back home this time.

Penning the actual experience of this road trip is not at all easy, since it would be impossible to encapsulate those never-seen-before places, the vivid landscape or that team spirit on a single sheet of paper. Although I have done my share of road trips even in the past, this definitely stands out as one that has been truly memorable. HVK ‘saar’ you have exceeded yourself once more, as I can see that you have created a team that is just as enthusiastic, youthful and super-powered as you are.