I had planned to leave home by 8:30 AM, but by the time I packed everything and got ready, it was already 9:30 AM. There was no time for further delay. I slung one backpack over my shoulder, while my cousin Bubuti, who was accompanying me to Mariani, carried the other. After bidding farewell to my mother, I finally stepped out.
As I approached my bike, which had been parked outside since morning, a thought crossed my mind—should I try carrying both backpacks alone? After all, once I reached Lucknow, I’d have to manage them by myself. I tried lifting them, and my heart sank. What would I do if I had to push my bike while carrying these bags? Without wasting another moment, I rushed back inside.
I quickly assessed what I could leave behind. Everything seemed essential. There was no time to unpack and repack, so I made a swift decision—I left behind a bedsheet and two pairs of jeans. The weight of my backpack was significantly reduced, making it easier to carry.
With no more time to waste, I started my bike at around 9:45 AM. My uncertain journey had begun.
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Riding with an Empty Tank
Since I was to take my bike on the train, I couldn’t carry petrol in the tank—it’s a punishable offence. So I had not refueled my tank and for the past few days, I had been riding on reserve fuel. I had no idea how much petrol was left, so I decided to stop at a pump in Madhapur on the way to Mariani and refuel with ₹70 worth of petrol before heading toward Mariani.
As I neared Mariani, with about a kilometre left to go, I encountered a massive traffic jam. Vehicles heading to Nagaland—Tata Sumos, buses, and bikes—were lined up, unable to move. I couldn’t afford to wait, so I manoeuvred my bike forward, weaving through the vehicles to figure out what was happening.
Someone told me that the road was blocked due to a local protest. This was bad news! There was no way to know how long the blockade would last. Time was slipping away, and turning back to take an alternate route via Titabar and Jorhat would mean missing my train as I had yet to book my bike and It would need time for packing. I needed a plan.
Just then, I noticed a man turning his bike around. He recognized me and called out—it was Debeshwar Sonowal from my neighbouring village, Negheri, about six kilometres from my home. I had heard that he recently got a job with the railways. Today, for the first time, we met in person in nearly twenty years. He was in a hurry to reach work.
I asked, “Do you know a shortcut to Mariani?” He nodded and took off. I just followed him.
We detoured through a narrow village road, passing a tea garden and rough, uneven paths full of rocks. Debeshwar sped ahead on his Hero Honda bike, and I did my best to keep up with my Royal Enfield. After 20-25 minutes of navigating these winding paths, we finally emerged onto a proper road—only to realize that we had come full circle, right back to the protest site! Panic set in. I had wasted valuable time. Debeshwar, now even more impatient, turned around again and took off through another route. I had no choice but to follow him.
This time, we seemed to be on the right path. We spotted a long convoy of passenger buses, Tata Sumos, scooters, and motorcycles—finally, a sign that we were heading in the right direction.
The Race Against Time
I was anxious—not only was I running late, but I was also worried about my fuel. I had never booked a bike on a train before and had no idea what paperwork was needed or how long the process would take. Plus, my bike had been running on reserve fuel for days, and I had only refuelled for ₹70. If I got stranded in the middle of a tea estate with no fuel, my journey would end before it even began.
Meanwhile, Debeshwar sped ahead, leaving everyone behind—buses, Sumos, even other bikers. My Enfield struggled to keep up, but I couldn’t afford to lose sight of him. He was my only guide through this unfamiliar terrain.
After battling through winding, rugged paths, we finally reached the main road at Sonowal Tea Estate’s factory gate, connecting to the Nagajanka-Mariani highway. What a relief!
At Mariani’s tri-junction, Debeshwar continued straight towards Jorhat’s direction, while I turned left towards the railway station. I didn’t even get the chance to thank him.
Little did he know—he had just become the first guide on my journey to Nepal!
To be continued…
