One Life To Ride: A Motorcycle Journey To The High Himalayas

by Ajit Harisinghani

Travelling across India on a motorcycle is an intimate way to get acquainted with its myriad cultures, each with their unique beliefs and lifestyle.

One Life to Ride takes you across the hot and dusty plains of India to the highest motorable road in the world — the fabled Khardung-La in Ladakh.

Along the way you'll meet Sufi saints, fake fakirs and homesick soldiers.

You'll get stuck in an icy road river and be miraculously rescued.

You'll feel the stress an average Kashmiri experiences everyday. You'll see how blind and dangerous religion can be if it is only followed in rituals and illogical beliefs.

You'll see how friendly and hospitable everyone is on the roads of India.

You'll come away feeling exhilarated, entertained and yes, also exhausted by the physical arduousness of the motorcycle ride.

Witty, reflective and honest, One Life to Ride is a daring, real-life adventure guaranteed to keep you turning the pages. Maybe even make you wish you were riding pillion.

Genres: Travel, Nonfiction, India, Travelogue, Motorcycle

230 pages, Kindle Edition

First published April 1, 2012

Reviews

[Alistair Bangera · Rating 3 out of 5]

When I started the book, I was a bit skeptical about how it might turn out. There are way too many travelogues out there. And most of them are very detailed, with continuous pictorial story telling and talk about trips that span larger distances and traverse more diverse terrain. I was a bit put off at the start when the book started on a more philosophical note. But then it picked up a steady momentum, that made it pleasing to read. It also stood out from travelogues written by young wanderlusts that plague the online world. The maturity in thought & approach, the beliefs and the overall mood made the book a pleasing read. I would recommend this book to any motorcycle & touring enthusiast.

[Lakshitha Nama · Rating 4 out of 5]

'One life to ride' is a travelogue of Ajit Harisinghani, a speech therapist who goes on a solo motorbike ride from Pune to Khardung La in Ladakh. Khardung La is the highest motorable road in the world and Ajit, who was in his 50s at the time narrates his journey in a humourous, adventurous way. I enjoyed how he was at ease with himself throughout the easier part of the ride and amused himself with his mistakes and misfortunes during the tougher sections. It is inspirational to read about the older travelers who teach us that life doesn't have to become boring and monotonous if we live lightheartedly and by making time for our hobbies and interests.

[Harshit Chandani · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Sirf badan ko waha le jaana hai, rooh toh vahi rheti hai." This line itself gets me a long stroll down memory lane of times where I was exploring the snowy mountains and freezing lakes a year ago. Out of many strange yet interesting conversations, this one's a fakir on cycle smoking his bidi throwing off this classic truth-bomb philosophy every traveler would agree on. Let's just say every character mentioned in this book took the "Mountains are calling and I must go" line too seriously.

A motorcyclist from Pune challenges himself whether he could physically, mentally, emotionally uphold himself throughout this remarkable cold-heart wrecking journey to the unique and marvelous Leh Ladakh ! He's not just enthusiastic but very well prepared for any obstacles that might halt his journey. Running across Pune University campus, some exercises to keep himself immune from any breathing difficulties due to low oxygen levels uphill, and learning some mechanical maintenance tricks from a local mechanic, he's checked almost all boxes days before he ignites the Royal Enfield and sets in motion for this 4500 Km adventure. He's in loose touch with a 4 member bikers group through yahoo and decides to join with them once he reaches Delhi. Due to cascade of events the group couldn't drive along with Ajit. One of the bikes had a puncture, another had its engine overheated, so Ajit continued driving although kept his pace under 30 kmph so the group tags along eventually. It's only when he crosses Manali, Chandigarh, enters Ladakh takes his typical Tibetan feast dal-chawal after a tiring drive, and sets to sleep when he hears that group again. They talk for hours about how the Manali-Leh route is. After an unsatisfying 2 hour sleep he leaves for the majestic Leh, where monks steal the show, monasteries are holier and spiritual enough to goosebump out of you. Surrounded with happy faces, strangers with interesting stories, and Ladakh's famous Hemis festival of colors, one imagines they're bestowed with a new life on a different beautiful planet. So thinks the writer, the vibe around him makes his physical pain, transgressions, worries, regrets fade away bringing him ZEN-peace.

He experiences perks of traveling in isolation, by jamming on hindi songs, reminiscing about his travel notes he penned down, but also enjoying funny bantering with travelers on the route, taking chai-sutta breaks together engaging in short-crisp chats, where he observes and appreciates little things about them. He's definitely living NOW, and transcending the importance of living, breathing in the present, what comes tomorrow shall be dealt with tomorrow. Keeping his old but gold body heated with Old Monk, several chai breaks and dal-chawal nights, he really highlights on everything a traveler, specially a solo traveler must learn and expect during long journeys. Meeting fake babas. living under cracking pale ceilings, taking a poo around pigs, helping strangers and getting help in return as karma, staying out of comfort zone because that's an addiction isn't it, and little bit of luck and act of gods in misery. A fluent travel diary infused with his travel notes from past journeys and conversations with en-route travelers, soldiers and locals makes this book a reminder of enjoying what's between life and death, life.

Advice to whoever feels hooked to this book and deciding to read the book, don't read if you're already missing traveling. I did this and the regret comes in hindsight, but regardless a great 240 page read !

[Sonali Roy · Rating 5 out of 5]

From the start to finish this was a wonderful ride.
I actually picked this one up seeing the cover. U know the saying beauty is skin deep and all. So what. So this was a read and then a read. I loved the fact that this covered some areas where I have visited.
Maybe this book could have done with photos and pictures something of a coffee table book cover and glossy pages. My kindle edition lacks that feel. So I missed that.
This book will appeal to you on only those day when you ant to sit on the sidelines enjoying your own company...

[Louise Warman · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is a wonderful mixture of motorcycle travel writing, descriptions of people, places and landscape plus a healthy dollop of philosophical ponderings.
As a westerner who has yet to visit India or the Himalayas, I found it particularly fascinating to read something written from the standpoint of an Indian man, rather than that of an outsider looking in. The thoughts on Kashmir and the lives of the young Indian soldiers stationed there is a poignant episode.
The ability to ride such a small bike to such extreme places also puts into perspective the obsessive need for big-engined motorcycles seen so much in biking culture; perhaps I should be downgrading my ‘little’ 600cc to an Enfield?

[Rohit Lawange · Rating 4 out of 5]

Simple story, travelogue of ride from Pune to leh Ladakh. Writing is engaging and smooth.

No boring sections, just simple story of a man on a solo ride.

[Maajed · Rating 4 out of 5]

The only Indian authors I have read till now are the ones educated abroad or those who have lived most of their lives in the west or have, at the most come to India as tourists. (Khushwant Singh as an exception comes to mind here though! )

This book written by somebody who lives and breathes India, calls this place home and undertakes a domestic journey with his humble bike and goes on to write eloquently about it came as a wonderful surprise to me.

The language is simple, crisp, the narrative methodical and fluent. The humour witty, wry - sometimes deadpan. The authors' simple and positive outlook on life and his ability to see the good (or at least avoid the negativity) in others is heartwarming.
We should all travel more often. Travel (not tourism) helps bring out the better person in all those who seek it.

I know this is a travelogue and the author has tried to remain politically neutral. However, I can't help but notice that while in Kashmir he starts crying for the Indian forces stationed there. (There is a passage in the book where he admits to crying for the military personnel while feeling their 'isolation' and 'homesickness'.) While I admit that this dispute has left heartbreak and untold suffering on both sides and the author has sided with the Indian forces but I'd prefer if he'd not go down that lane since I then expect him to narrate the story of countless enforced disappearances and unmarked graves and half-widows and deeply scarred psyches on the civilian side. One more thing: The Amarnath Yatra in which Hindus annually visit a cave situated deep in high altitude mountains in Pahalgam has been going on peacefully for more than a hundred years and Kashmiris have been known to provide all help to the 'yatris' , sometimes even braving harsh mountain weather (which is not that rare considering it's a high altitude pilgrimage.) Attack on yatris' is a very rare occurrence. As such the passage in the book that suggests that the yatra is attacked every year killing scores of 'yatris' should not have been mentioned without ascertaining the facts properly.

Overall, I liked the book. It's beauty is its' simplicity and the unopinionated narrative (unlike say, a Paul Theroux or a Naipaul) of a simple traveller who has embarked on a journey of self discovery while appreciating all the simple pleasures that his journey brings him. I recommend this book to all adventure lovers.

[Shashwat Rastogi · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book will struck the right cords with everyone who ever wished to embark on a long cross-country road-trip to Ladakh.

[Dr.J.G. · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting in its many aspects, chiefly that of journey to and in Himaalayan regions, all the way from Pune.

For whatever reason, the writer is anxious to impress the reader with his attitude, that of derision of majority of India and extolling minorities. Is it just to counter the experiences he had during his journey, or does he feel afraid of being seen as someone not quite sophisticated, is unclear.

He speaks of meeting a Muslim trying to bicycle his way to Mecca, of his spiritual stance that can only be called Indian heritage; he speaks later of meeting two Hindu monks who attempt to fleece him for money.

While it might all be genuine experience, that it gives a certain impression about his attitude is undeniable.

Later he repeatedly speaks of the feeling of exaltation that comes over as he sojourn through Himaalayan regions, and the dismay as he enters the Muslim majority valley of Kashmir. Both feel true. But he is askance about the military, without which Kashmir would have be Afghanistan decades ago, with other states of India at peril of the same, one by one.

****

"The highway is dotted with toll booths but in India, I’ve discovered, two-wheelers do not have to pay toll. I like that. The laws of this country are generous to the poor.

"At one such tollbooth where, in spite of not having to pay toll, I still have to pass through the gates where other cars and trucks awaited their turn, I suddenly find myself being nudged off the channel into the cement embankment on my right. A white car is crowding me, not allowing me the few inches of space I need.

"‘Arre saale’ the driver’s yell is loud enough even through my helmet. Preventing a small collision, I regain my balance and look at my tormentor. Maybe it is the smallness of their car that made them seem to fill it up, but I see a grossly fat couple inside, both about 40 years old.

"‘Abbe gaddhey, marna hai kya?’ (Hey you donkey. Want to Die?). I say nothing but the fat man isn’t ready to give up.

"‘Kyon bey? Sunta nahi kya?’ (Why? Can’t you hear?), he challenges me again. I think he is only trying to impress his wife, who is smiling appreciatively at her brave spouse.

'I decide to try something. The Enfield is also a motorcycle much favoured by the police and the military and I have been often mistaken for a senior officer of these two services.

"Looking at him steadily, I open the visor of my helmet and notice his surprise as he sees my ancient face. Then, in a soft, non-threatening tone, deliver my threat. I simply ask him if he has ever been beaten by an army man.

'‘Fauji se kabhi maar khaya hai?’ as if it was something he had missed in life; something I could well deliver.

"His expression changes as if a switch had been flicked. He stops speaking. His overflowing wife has also assumed a tense expression on her ample face. The man is now in an abnormal hurry to move. He looks straight ahead and takes off a bit too fast for the ten rather big rumble strips ahead.

"Six words can be a potent force. It’s the tone that is important here. Being a speech therapist has its advantages!

****

"My mother came from an affluent doctor’s family. Her father, with his medical education from the Grant Medical College, Mumbai, in the early 1900s, had prospered doctoring the nawabs of Larkana, Sindh. My mother had many stories to tell of the extravagant gifts that followed each home visit my nana made. The nawabs paid in trunks full of clothes and baskets of fruit.

"One of mother’s stories: She was 16 years old when this happened. They had just moved into the new house that her father had built in Larkana. She remembers it was coloured white and had a dome and a basement where she played with her friends. Late one night, there was a loud knocking on the door, which got the entire household out of bed. This is how she told the story:

"Your nana unlatched the door. Four burly Pathans stood beyond the threshold. To my young mind, the big men, clad in dark salwaarkurtas, standing in the faintly lighted porch, were an intimidating sight.

"What scared me were the daggers strapped around their waists and the very long-barrelled guns in their hands. The turbaned one, who appeared to be their leader, was Vazir Sonu Khan, and said he had a message from his master Nawab Gaibi Khan.

"Gaibi Khan, who was then lord of Gaibi dera, a village about 40 kilometres from Larkana, wanted the daaktar to be quickly summoned to save the apple-of-his-eye, his six-year-old grandson Ahmed Sultan, who had suddenly taken very ill and was now writhing in pain. It was an emergency and would the respected daaktar please hurry.

"The driver of the nawab’s car had not even switched off the engine, but Dada was not to be rushed. He asked Sonu Khan to describe the child’s symptoms and then packed his bag with everything he would need.

"They left and we didn’t see Dada for seven days. There were no telephones then, not in Gaibi dera. We had no way of knowing what had happened. Zamindars were like absolute monarchs in their fiefdoms. Had the boy died? Were they blaming my father? Where was he? Seven days later he came back in a large car, one of the Nawab’s prized possessions. Two large metal trunks were unloaded from the rear of the car by the same four men who had come to fetch him the week before. There was also a huge degchi, which we were told contained cooked venison.

"‘Dada, what happened?’ I asked as soon as he had a wash and a cup of tea. ‘Oh… everything was fine,’ he had replied. ‘Dada… I want to know what happened right from when you drove off that night,’ I had pestered him. He said they had reached Gaibi dera at 2 a.m. Roads were narrow and rough and they had taken two hours to cover the distance. The old nawab was waiting for them. He was a big man even by Pathan standards. He wore a white kaftaan and his salwaars were reputed to be made from nine yards of poplin latha. And his hair and beard were dyed red with henna. Known to treat both his Hindu and Muslim ‘subjects’ with equal justice, the nawab was respected for his fairness.

"At any other time, it would be his warm broad smile with which he greeted his visitors, but that night his face was grim. ‘Daaktar, save my grandson,’ were the only words he spoke as he led Dada towards the child’s room. Dada said that the boy, who was lying on a large bed surrounded by his mother and three other women, was in obvious pain which seemed to be spasmodic, occurring at intervals of about two minutes. The child was clutching his stomach and crying. Dada said it was a simple case of a severely constipated digestive tract. The boy had not passed stools for four days but had continued to eat, causing a kind of traffic jam. Dada said he had administered an enema and retired to the room they had allotted him in the guesthouse which was in a separate building.

"Early next morning he was awakened by an old woman who said the nawab wanted to see him. Gaibi Khan was waiting near the door of his haveli. Ahmed Sultan was going to be all right. A miraculous recovery had occurred. Awash with relief, the nawab was grateful beyond words. He wouldn’t hear of letting Dada go back to Larkana so soon, wanting him to supervise the child’s recuperation. A majlis to celebrate his grandson’s return to good health was planned and Dada was the guest of honour.

"Much later, when the partition of the country became a certainty and Hindus began to leave Larkana, Gaibi Khan sent Sonu Khan and four armed men to safely escort our family to Karachi. Even train journeys were becoming dangerous with frequent reports of passengers being massacred. The Pathans came with us on the train from Larkana. They kept watch as we stayed in Gaibi Khan’s house in Karachi for the four days it took to finalise travel arrangements. The Pathans booked our seats on the ship to Bombay, escorted us to the docks and left only after making sure we were safe.

"This story, however, did not have a completely happy ending. We heard later that Gaibi Khan had been arrested because he was sympathetic to the plight of Hindus and had helped many escape the wrath of the marauding killer gangs. Those were times when tempers ran high on both sides of the religious divide. The Khan was seen as a traitor and a sentence of prolonged imprisonment was passed. But this prisoner was never imprisoned. The Khan, unable to take the fact of his sentence, had a heart attack when he was being taken to Sukkhur Jail and was dead before he entered it."

****

"By 6 p.m. the sand begins to blow across the road and in spite of the visor, its grains find access to my nose and eyes. I’ve been riding for ten hours since I’d left Mt. Abu. As the golden evening begins to turn into twilight, I start to look for a lodge.

"After 7 o’clock it becomes dark, which dramatically decreases odds of survival. With high-beam halogen lights from trucks coming the other way blinding me, the dark visor is now a hindrance and has to be drawn up to improve visibility and prevent the motorcycle from hitting any of the many potholes or in some places, large rocks left lying on the road. The sand is still blowing and hits my eyeballs with disturbing impact. This, I tell myself, was what I got from breaking my own rule of not riding after sunset. Now I am caught on the dark highway with not an exit in sight. The unmade road seems to go on and on with nowhere to stop. Truck after laden truck, at times crawling bumper to bumper. Sometimes without warning, a driver breaks out of the orderly convoy in a burst of impatient speed. I could have died ten times but ten times I didn’t. I become one up on cats. The old Sufi’s blessings are doing their job!"

"Karol Bagh which is a Mecca for the Enfield enthusiast with entire shops devoted to this particular brand of motorcycle."

****

"The road from Manali to Rohtang La is nicely paved and it is an easy ascent to Rohtang La (3,980 metres). This historic pass between Kullu and Lahaul valleys offers the first spectacular view of the higher Himalayas and is a popular northernmost stop on the tourist itinerary.

"The atmosphere at the top of Rohtang is carnival. Noise from tape recorders mingles with fumes from a hundred diesel vehicles, the smell of chhole-parathe from the dhabas, the cries of balloon-sellers, the excited yelps of children enjoying their pony rides. But once I crest the Rohtang, the ambience changes as if by magic. Silence takes over. Not a soul in sight for long stretches."

" ... The BRO (Border Roads Organization) must have a wry sense of humour. They must need it too. All along the route from Manali to Leh and northwards towards Siachen, then westwards to Srinagar, the BRO maintains these high altitude roads, some of which get washed away by glacial melt every afternoon and have to be rebuilt every evening."

"Afternoons are a glorious time to be riding a motorcycle on narrow gravel roads which snake through the Himalayas. With the sun already close to the peaks, the play of light colours the landscape in shades that vary from bright yellow to gleaming gold. At this altitude, I’m now moving much above the tree line and there is not a patch of green to be seen anywhere."

" ... Suraj Tal, a lake like no other I’ve seen. It fills the valley almost to the brim and its blue waters look absolutely still. No fish plops, no butterflies flutter over it. Snow-laden peaks stand reflected in it with crystal clear certainty."

"... Baralacha La (4,950 metres). Surrounded by 12 snow-laden mountain peaks, including Nunkun – the highest peak in Ladakh – this pass is a junction with a trekking and mule/yak path which leads southeast down into the Chandra valley and onwards into Spiti. On the north lies Lake Yunan Tso."

"... Lachlang La (5,065 metres) where I stop to soak in the silent scenery. The sun shines bright but it is still cold up here even at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. Unlike Baralacha La, where one is protected from the wind to a certain extent by the higher peaks of other mountains all around, here the unhindered breeze is strong and chilling and seems to penetrate into my head through my ears, nostrils and mouth."

" ... Tanglang La, the highest pass on the Manali-Leh road. It is only 6:30 a.m. The road is covered with a layer of sand and seems to hold to a perpetual 30-degree incline. Every view on every side is spectacular and I have to, I just have to stop and take a few pictures."

"The road is arrow straight on a wide tableland between two mountain ranges with broad stretches of sand on either side. The high Tanglang is visible towards the north.

"I feel like a speck in this grand landscape where things change by the minute. One minute it is bright and sunny. And then a large grey cloud hides the sun. Then the sand begins to whirl itself into tall thin dust devils over 50 feet high that have a life of their own, moving around briskly, maybe by some intelligent design.

"In retrospect it was a miraculous sight but this morning I am overwhelmed by the scale of the strangeness all around me. My senses are saturated with awe.

"The dust devils have run away from me and now a snow cloud begins to form up ahead. It approaches rather quickly. I am covered with wispy light snowflakes which melt almost as soon as they land on me.

"Midway through, after an hour on the road, I see a lone Tibetan man, dressed in a maroon gown, sitting all by himself by the roadside. Probably a shepherd, but there are no sheep in sight. I am in no mood to stop and chat.

****

"It’s been snowing lightly all this while. Frequently wiping the visor of my helmet with my gloved hands, I slow my pace and creep up the now narrowing road. At a point, I get a panoramic view of what lies ahead. Snow-laden mountains spread out all around as far as the eye can see. The road, a thin line hugging the mountain ahead of me, winding on and on towards what I presume must be Tanglang La (5,360 metres). From this distance, the majestic peak stands tall, like a monarch wearing a crown of white."

"Another set of cosmic rules seems to apply here. The Buddhist denizens of Leh seem to be at peace with themselves and the world around them. Ancient faces etched with history glide by, whirling the Tibetan prayer wheel, lost in their private Shangri La. Friendliness is in the air and smiles are easy to come by but hotels are not.

"Leh is packed with tourists from all over the world. Absolutely nowhere to stay. Unless, as one hotel manager tells me, I am ready to shell out Rs. 3,000 for a day’s stay. I’m not. That’s way over my budget. I walk to a nearby restaurant and ponder over my situation sipping a cup of some kadak chai."

The breeze has no leaves to rustle through, so it uses the crevices between rocks and snow to create the universal sound of ‘OM’, which seems to reverberate all around me. Awed reverence is all I feel."

"I am riding along the banks of the river Indus. At a point, just before I enter the wayside village of Mulbekh, the mountains seem to close in on me. With the frothy Indus gushing powerfully in its suddenly confining channel through the rocks, the blue green waters make a deafening roar and mask out all thoughts except an awed awareness of the strength of the myriad forces which rule our planet Earth."

"The government tourist lodge is located on the western edge of the Dras valley, right under Tiger Hill. This is where the short war was fought a couple of years ago. It is also the second coldest place on earth. The temperature had dipped to minus 60 degrees Celsius some years ago – a feather in its cap. But it is Tiger Hill that dominates the ambience here."

"Zoji La (3,529 metres). This pass is not as high as some of the others I had crossed but it is the coldest. Crowded around by peaks, which on the Ladakh side are naked brown with no greenery and on the Kashmir valley side lush with pine, this is a spectacular place. A thick mantle of snow covers all peaks even this early in July. If this is summer, what must winter be?"

****

"Tranquil Ladakh, the northernmost corner of my vast country. Frontier land. So unique. Unforgiving terrain with forgiving people. The air of the land sweetened with the compassion of Buddha. The quiet dignified stark honesty on smiling faces. Timelessness etched on the monasteries. And silences like I’ve never heard before. Here the wind is a palpable presence. It talks to you in cosmic whispers. The mountains of the Himalayas, although physically foreboding, seem to exude something other than just awe. All through my journey in Ladakh, I have felt safe amidst these giants of rock and ice. But this is soon to change. This is my last moment of peace. On the other side is the tumultuous vale of Kashmir."

****

"Back at his post again, the soldier tells me that it is the time of the annual Amarnath yatra and the army is expecting militants to target this Hindu pilgrimage, as they do each year. Scores of people have been killed in attacks but thousands more keep coming. This year the army has made especially stringent arrangements and security has been beefed up to an unprecedented level."

"As I sip my tea, a covered half-ton truck packed with folded aluminium chairs, beds and mattresses is stopped at the military checkpoint towards my left. A jawan gestures for the driver and his companion to get down and let him inspect the truck. On seeing the cargo, he asks the driver to unload it. This angers the driver who yells that he cannot unload everything. It took him four hours to load the truck. Soon a crowd of locals collects and starts shouting slogans against the army. This brings a senior officer out of his cabin and he tries to reason with the crowd which is only getting more boisterous and vocal. This could turn into a full-fledged riot quite easily and I am worried my motorcycle, with its Maharashtra number,"

"All along the route, every 100 metres, I see an armed sentry keeping watch over vehicles that ply this route, carting pilgrims to the Amarnath caves. The road is nice enough and the setting is picture postcard perfect. The ingredients are all there. High mountains on either side, crowded with pine and crowned with snow which blazes white in the morning sun. The Indus – gushing strongly on the left along the road. A cool breeze is blowing gently. But I am not at ease. The strong army presence just cannot be ignored away. The tension between them and the local people is palpable."

"Decades ago, when Kashmir was free of militancy, it had been a different story. Streets crowded with travellers from every country in the world. A paradise for young backpackers.

"Today this is all changed. The security drills of the army and the police, the check posts, the ....

[Nirmit Singhal · Rating 4 out of 5]

Journey to the northernmost part of India.
Biking adventure don't know what you might see on the road.

[Edwina D'souza · Rating 4 out of 5]

Quick easy read. Was able to visualise his experiences on the road - mark of good writing.

[Alex · Rating 3 out of 5]

We inherited a box of books from former Americans living in Jaipur. Three Ghosh novels, a book of Lahiri short stories, a compilation of short stories collected by K. Singh, a novella by K. Singh -- and then this charmer.

I read it after returning from a short vacation in Manali with my brother.

I liked it because the author reminds me of my old man, or somebody's old man at any rate, just telling me about his awesome adventures on the road as an old man. It's a really different read from what I usually pick up -- either dry tomes of momentous scholarship or S. Asian-authored novels teeming with weighty stuff like loss, longing, violence, brokenness, one post-colonial heartache or the other.

This, on the other hand, was just a well-connected, middle-class speech pathologist biking through some pretty roads as a domestic tourist. He tells you what he sees. Nothing is over-described. He tells you how much he pays for food, lodgings, and cycle maintenance. He meets some other ordinary tourists, some other ordinary hawkers. He helpfully compiles a list of Hindi vocabulary for you at the end of the book. And that's all.

I sensed absolutely no anger, no malice behind the writerly voice. And that in itself I found darkly unsettling.

[Pankaj · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read this book cover to cover from the moment I got the delivery. It is written in a very readable and nice uncomplicated language. I would compare this narrative style to Naipaul actually.

Even better than the writing style I find the sense of humor which Ajit Harisinghani peppers his writing with. He comes across as the kind of person I would love to spend an evening around the camp fire with. Right from his take-down of the plump chap at a toll booth, the pigs of Arambal, the interaction with the Sufi baba and the way he interacts with various people he meets on the journey.

Whats more, his book is replete with beautiful one liners - quoting one here with reference to riding on Indian roads - "One might be riding solo but one is never alone. Not in the plains of India"
There are other deeper insights to be found in the book.

More than anything this is a treasure trove for motorcycle fans. It is an absolute must read if you like your Bullet.

The book is an inspiration for anyone knocking on middle age to not get bogged down by the standard trappings around but to be yourself and more importantly to be true to yourself.

Go ahead and take a leaf out of Harisinghani's book, go do something you have always wanted to, after all there is only one life.

[Maynk Desai · Rating 5 out of 5]

Awesome book, very much on the track throughout the read, similar to how the author never goes off road throughout his actual journey, must read for every travel aspirant, his journey ends @ the railway station but, I wish he had returned home on the thumper, that could have given us a few more pages to read. Yes I never wanted to stop reading this book. I m reading in again. Eagerly waiting for to read about ur trip to Bhutan Mr.Ajit☺

[Manish Agarwal · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is not a literary masterpiece and that is not why I rate this 4 stars - I just picked up this book wanting to hear a story of how it feels for a person riding in the Himalayas! After his description of the trip to Goa and right upto Delhi I thought this book was a mistake!
But once the author reaches Kiratpur the book is amazing - I couldn’t stop till he finished! This book is all you want - it doesn’t dwell on monotonous detail, moves quickly from one place to the next and most importantly doesn’t bore you with the riders thoughts anymore than is necessary.
Such simple and straightforward writing was a pleasure to read.
I now have a pretty good idea of what to expect if I wanna ride to Ladakh! The best part is he did this solo! What if that truck hadn’t turned up to help extricate him that day! The saddest part was where he was let down by the Kashmir valley which after Ladakh should’ve been the best meal! Such amazing flora fauna and cuisine but he slept hungry!
Short and sweet and a wonderful read - thank you Ajit for penning this down!

[Prangyavit Sahu · Rating 4 out of 5]

One of the best travel books I ever read. Readers, in fact, feel they are traveling along with the travel enthusiastic writer Mr. Ajit Harisinghani. From Pune to Srinagar through Ahmedabad, Mt Abu, Jaipur, Delhi, Manali, and LehLadakh it is quite impressive & painstaking 4000+ KM journey. That's also with a desi Elephant famously known as Royal Enfiled.
Though I have traveled a lot with a lot of obstacles, the writer himself a marvel a the age of 54. Traveling alone or in a group always brings peace to your inner self. But when a traveler decides to travel a long journey or you can say a marathon of thousands on KM over hilly terrain, that makes something different.

I would suggest the enthusiastic travelers read this book and enjoy the beauty, horror, thrill, and peace of the marathon journey of the about to retire traveler.

[Rahul Ammanath · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was riding along with the author as i went through each pages. Few chapters made my eyes wet. Bundled with all the emotions. A bike trip like this would be present in everyone's bucke tlist, reading a book from a person who has achieved it makes it even more special. The descriptions of the visuals are so mesmerizing, one could actually feel it through the words. The writing itself is simple but hold so much of power within it.
Thank you Ajith Harisinghani for taking me to one of hell of a ride. The least effort that i had to put was to just read through the lines.
A definite recommended book for the adventurer and explorer within you.

[Abhijeet Kashyap · Rating 3 out of 5]

It's an honest travelogue that I really enjoyed during the first 100 pages. It started getting dull after that because I was bored of the tone. I got tired of the first person narrative with hardly any dialogues. The way Ajit built the journey is praiseworthy, but nothing happens once he is at his destination. The author knows how to connect with the reader or how to make a strong point about homesickness, but such moments fade out pretty quickly as they are followed up by unrelated lines in the next para.

I would strongly recommend you to read the entire book in maximum 3 sittings, as that's the best way you could flow along with the rider's journey.

[Vishnu Kartha · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really loved this book. Ajit's writing style is classy , funny and even thought-provoking at many points, and makes the book indeed a wonderful read. His love towards his beloved Enfield is evident in his writing. I found his journey also as motivating, which proves that age is just a number and anything is possible if you have the will to do it. I would recommend this to anybody who loves to read!

The best way to summarize my review is, I have ordered a paperback of One Life to Ride when I had completed just 20% of it on Kindle, knowing that I would complete it even before I will get the paperback.😊 And yes, I have completed it on kindle now and still waiting for the paperback.😁

[Vasudha · Rating 3 out of 5]

Road trip...the Enfield...journey of a lifetime...Journeys that you within.....4300 km...the pig-toilets (a Goan institution)... the beach....the sun ...the Sufi baba.....roads....the dug dug dug...the Hemis Festival ...the mountains....the blue sky.....Leh....Ladakh....Tiger Hill.. the chilling wind.

All these flash through the mind when thinking about this book in hindsight. The book is reasonably well written and helps to transport one to the scenic locations through which the Enfield wanders, feel the breeze and the freeness of travelling solo.

[Hitesh · Rating 3 out of 5]

Title inspired to read this travelogue and my enthusiasm crashed in the first few chapters. After reading through 40% of the book, it kicked me in and decided to finish this travelogue.

I've been reading many travel books lately and felt that the writing in this book could have been made more interesting.

The story of the journey is nice and could have been ended with the emotion that has inspired the title.

I appreciate the efforts of the author and respect the same. I would like to give give my best to the upcoming writings.

[Shiv Dutta · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was riding along with the author as I went through each page. A bike trip like this would be present in everyone's bucket list, reading a book from a person who has achieved it makes it even more special. The descriptions of the visuals are so mesmerizing, one could actually feel it through the words. The writing itself is simple but holds so much power within it.

Thank you Ajith Harisinghani for taking me to one of hell of a ride. I recommended this book for the adventurer and explorer within you.

[Sagar Chamoli · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars

A good and short read. Its about author's road trip from Pune To Leh. He have described his experiences during the journey starting from meeting a fakhir, meeting other traveller's (foreigners as well as indians), soldiers posted in Kashmir, and many such other experiences.

Initially i found it a bit difficult to read, but later on i could built up the connection. Hat's off to author who dared to took solo ride in bis fifty's. Justify the saying, age is just the no :)

Overall its a good read and someone fond of reading biking or travelling books, should go for it.

[J · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book is filled with typical anti-Hindu tropes. Eg. Muslims are good and genuine Sufis, Sikhs are generous and sincere towards their faith, Buddhists are simple and peaceloving, but Hindus sadhus are fake and fraudsters; and Hindu devotees are apparently religious fanatics. The author has even gone as far as to put the word "nationalism" in the same sentence as "religious extremism" as if nationalism is responsible for Islamic terrorism in Kashmir and elsewhere.

Plus, there is a constant stream of sexist humor in this book which is off-putting. I definitely do not recommend this book.

[Maya Gopalakrishnan · Rating 4 out of 5]

A slow bumpy ride

I liked his second book much better. This one reads more like a blog than a travelogue and mostly focuses on things which are not very clear to the arm chair traveller. Still it manages to bring across the sweet smell of the ladaki cows, the powerful wind on your face, the omnipresent hot chai and the weariness of travel as well. One time read. Strongly disapprove of the author's casual attitude to smoking especially at high altitudes.

[Ratnesh · Rating 3 out of 5]

The story begins with a motorcyclist who travelled from pune to all over Kashmir on his royal Enfield. In the journey he met many people but the special was sufi baba. The author describes all his hurdles, challenges and the beautiful valleys, mountains, flowers etc.

This book is good for people who loves to raom. For me it was just ok, not that good. But yeah, i like what auther has seen in his journey.

[Rajesh Jagtap · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very good and captivating book. This book was one of the inspirations for me to buy a Royal Enfield and chart an expedition to the north which has now been delayed due to health issues. Coming back to the book, the writer has managed to pen down his journey in a very well organised way and seems to have truly enjoyed the journey as well.
His perspectives about the entire expedition are quite enriching.

[Rohit Nagpal · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book has made me feel and envisage that I am riding the "dhuk dhuk dhuk" and "tham tham tham" beast on the road. Each and every chapter has so much of an emotional connect with the journey that it made me feel that I am also travelling the unknown/ some known world together with the author. The clarity of thought, a smooth link between one sentence to another in writing and well-knitted words have made me finish this book in just 3 days.

[Gourav Shah · Rating 5 out of 5]

With his "show and don't tell" method, Ajit takes you along on his solo journey all the way from western ghats to higher himalayas. His story telling brought back my memories of of mountain deserts of Ladakh, the terrain, the mountain passes. I enjoyed this book thoroughly and have started reading his next, about the journey to the land of happiness, Bhutan.

[Nirav · Rating 5 out of 5]

As someone who owns an Enfield for a long time now and loves to ride, I could relate with this book right from the cover. I love Ajit's sense of humour and simple and pleasant style! A must-read for all bikers who wants take this long rides across the country.

I am going to get his next book in a hurry and which him luck for more rides and books!