Background

This was the first ride of my life. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought of becoming a rider. In fact, I stumbled into it by sheer accident. I never even planned to buy a bike, let alone aspire to be a rider. Interestingly until the day I bought my 500cc Royal Enfield, my experience on two wheels was limited to riding a bicycle.

Before this, I had never travelled outside Assam on my own, let alone ventured beyond the Northeast. My only trip outside Assam was way back in 1990 on a school excursion to Darjeeling, West Bengal. That short trip had been my sole experience of travelling beyond the borders of my home state. Later, in December 1999, I visited Itanagar in Arunachal Pradesh to take a banking exam, but even that was a one-off instance. So, my overall travel experience was incredibly limited.

The Nepal ride, however, was a series of firsts for me. It was my first ride, my first time travelling solo outside Assam, my first time travelling in the first class on a train, my first time shifting a bike from one place to another one, my first trip abroad, my first time boarding an aeroplane, and even my first stay in a three-star hotel. All these “firsts” made the journey to Nepal unforgettable, filled with excitement and adventure. The memories of that ride remain vividly etched in my mind and heart.

When I returned from Nepal, some people asked if I had quenched my thirst for riding such long distances. A few even remarked that I must have travelled all that way just because I loved riding my bike.
But to say that climbers scale mountains just because they love walking would be an insult to their abilities and aspirations. Adventure is not just about indulging in a hobby or satisfying a fleeting desire. Every adventure is a challenge—an inward confrontation with oneself. This sense of challenge is what drives people to take on extraordinary feats.

The same mindset fuels those who embark on long-distance bike rides. They don’t do it just for the sake of riding; there’s no need to traverse thousands of kilometres to enjoy a bike ride. It’s about testing your limits, embracing the journey, and discovering something deeper within. Not to mention the people and culture you meet and experience on your ride.

In 2000, my elder brother bought a Yamaha YBX. It was the first bike in our family, and I rode it extensively back then. Over time, the bike became mundane to me. So, why did I decide to buy a Royal Enfield later? To understand that, we need to rewind to a bit past.
In July 2015 when I was transferred from Majuli to Golaghat, my daily commute became a challenge. I had to rely on public transport, which, in this case, was a Tata Magic van. Anyone who has travelled in one doesn’t need me to explain the experience—it’s as if you’re performing a full-body yoga routine while on the move. Twisting your legs, craning your neck backwards, and contorting into various awkward poses just to fit in is part and parcel of the journey. You have to adjust yourself in a single seat that was meant for one person to make room for two or three more passengers.

Every day, crammed into that box of iron and tin called Magic Van, I endured headaches and discomfort, returning home bitter and exhausted.

This daily ordeal got me thinking: I needed a bike. But which one? I couldn’t decide. None of the bikes I saw interested me—they all seemed like toys. Adding to my dilemma, I didn’t have any savings to fall back on.