A Strange Day in the Hills

I was coming to the end of my two weeks in Rishikesh, getting ready to head back to Tiruvannamalai. I had a month planned there for April, and after that, I wasn’t sure what would come next.

Rishikesh was okay but honestly, it didn’t really resonate with me. I knew my work needed to be done in Tiru. I had enjoyed the break from Arunachala, especially after being told to leave for a while. But now I was allowed to return, and I was looking forward to it.

A few days before leaving, I decided to take a motorbike trip to Mussoorie, a hill station about three hours away. I asked my French friend K if she wanted to come. She was enthusiastic.

“Yes, I would love to come! Thank you so much for inviting me.”

“No worries,” I said.

I told her I’d have the bike dropped off at 6 a.m. and would be at hers by 6:30 a.m.

The morning came and the bike a Royal Enfield was delivered. I was looking forward to the ride. But when I went to sign the paperwork, the guy suddenly asked for a deposit.

“Hang on,” I said. “I asked about this yesterday and was told I didn’t need to leave one. I’ve only got a limited amount of rupees on me. The nearest ATM isn’t even close.”

He wasn’t happy, but I stood firm. I had followed up on everything the day before. If there was a communication problem between him and his friend, that was their issue to sort out, not mine.

Eventually, he agreed to waive the deposit.

I took the bike and picked up K. We headed to the petrol station. I asked her to stand to the side, away from the cars, and said I’d join her after I put some petrol in. I finished what I was doing and walked over to where she was standing so we could check the route to Mussoorie.

As we stood there looking at her phone, I suddenly caught something in my peripheral vision a four-wheel drive was reversing straight at us, and one of its doors had swung wide open.

The driver clearly couldn’t see us.

I yelled and pushed K out of the way, stepping aside myself just in time.

“Fuck,” I thought, heart racing.

The car missed her by inches.

Petrol station staff came running over, yelling at the driver. K and I looked at each other both thinking the same thing.

Whenever we’re together, weird shit happens.

Like the car accident and drama we had the first time we met and came to Rishikesh.

I honestly thought,

This is not a good start. We still had to ride three hours there and three hours back.

“Just relax,” I told myself. “Take it easy. It’ll be fine.”

We jumped on the bike and headed off.

Everything was fine until we got to the bottom of the hill. Mussoorie is up in the mountains, with beautiful winding roads. But just before we started ascending, I noticed the fuel light was on.

That’s odd, I thought. I’d just filled the tank. Something didn’t feel right. Maybe I’d been shorted at the petrol station and hadn’t noticed.

We could be in trouble.

I had no idea where the next petrol station would be, and it was a steep, narrow, one-way climb.

“K,” I said, “how far to the next station?”

“Twenty minutes,” she said.

“Uh oh.”

“What?”

“We need petrol.”

I prayed to Ramana for help. I was stressed. “How far now?” I kept asking.

“Fifteen… thirteen… ten… eight… five…”

We finally arrived.

We both breathed a sigh of relief. I made sure the meter was on zero before they started filling it this time.

We cruised up the mountain. The incline was steep at times, incredibly steep. I’d ridden bikes before, but never on roads like this.

At one point, we rounded a corner and saw a four-wheel drive ahead that had crashed into the wall. We were stuck behind it. I slammed the brakes and yelled, “Jump off!”

The slope was so steep, the bike started sliding backwards.

Two Indian men saw what was happening and ran over to help. They helped steady the bike.

It was turning into one of those days.

We reached a lookout point and rested for a while, then decided to find somewhere to eat. While turning the bike around on a busy, narrow road, I dropped it. First time that’s ever happened to me.

“Fuck,” I thought.

I checked for damage. There was a small mark on the protective fuel guard. Nothing major but still, I pride myself on looking after people’s things.

It was just another moment in a growing list of stressful moments.

I went quiet.

K noticed and asked if I was okay.

“Yeah,” I said. “It just feels like this whole day is cursed.”

She agreed. There was definitely something strange going on.

We tried to enjoy the rest of the day and managed to until we started heading home.

K was directing me using Google Maps, but she’d accidentally selected a different path. It took us on an insanely steep and dangerous route down the mountain.

The descent was terrifying. K was practically free falling on my back, bear-hugging me, almost crying.

I told her to stay calm. The bike was brand new and sturdy. There was no way the brakes would fail.

We eventually made it down. As soon as we did, she asked me to stop so she could have a cigarette.

We rested for a bit. We still had two hours to go.

The ride back wasn’t bad. I dropped the bike off without issue.

And somehow, we made it back in one piece.