Tales of South series holds short stories of my solo motorcycle ride throughout the southern India. Though my personal experiences, it's not really about me, it's about SOUTH India, its kind people, unique culture, customs, beliefs, food and biodiversity. Through this series, you will have a glimpse of how unique is this region in India as well as in the entire world.
Preface to 'An act of kindness'
It's been little more than 270 km since I started from Hyderabad with a tiny halt near the roaring Krishna river. I was completely wet as it was raining most of my journey. Due to the heavy rain from the last few days, the water bodies in or around southern Andhra were either full or overflowing by causing a flood-like situation. Many lower lands even suffered from floods.
An act of kindness
I was riding high, slicing the air, grasping the chill. Just crossed Kurnool district of the state Andhra-Pradesh and rolling somewhere on the Kurnool - Ongol highway. My body was aching, spine demanding a stretch but the scenic beauty of the nearby tiny mountain with clouded weather overpowered the pain. Something caught my eye. Brakes were engaged. I was standing & staring at the blossom of flowers (that I am not aware of) on the foothill of that tiny mountain. That was scenic yet beautiful. I relaxed a bit and gulped the scene with satisfaction. After some time, I inched a little closer and crossed a small bush in order to get a closer angle to capture it in my cellphone and captured a few shots.
In no time I had returned to my Himalayan motorcycle. I turned back and had a glance at the scene again, aha satisfied! Inserted the helmet in my head and looked for the motorcycle key. It was not present at its rightful pocket. A chill ran through my spine. I looked for it in the other pockets of the pant as well as in jacket. Nothing. My heart sensed the situation, and slowed down a bit. I was searching the key madly now, repeatedly in pockets, in my bag, in every part of my bike where there's a probability of placing the key. No success. I started searching in nearby bush as well as the road I had visited some time back. Repeated the search multiple times. Nothing to be found. There I was, alone in the middle of a road, in a strange place, with a magnificent motorcycle without a key to start it.
Thirty minutes had passed. I was imagining possibilities with all consequences. Meanwhile, a splendor plus had crossed me. After crossing some distance, the bike stopped, the biker turned back and saw a person desperately looking for something. He returned and asked about my situation. I elaborated. He understood my state and joined me in my search for the key. In no time, another lady of my mother's age, probably a farmer, took the note of our situation and joined us. As we are three now and my probability of finding the key increased multifold. Also, It had induced some confidence in me.
Fortunately, I found that key, not in bushes or pockets but in the cover that was wrapped around my bag to protect it from rain. I exhaled a breath of relaxation. The key somehow slipped from my hand into it. I updated the news to my comrades of the key hunt and celebrated it with them. I embraced the splendor brother and put my hands together in a respectful Indian NAMASTE to the lady who helped me during this desperate time. Though not rich, they were blessed with a kind heart and content life. Finally, I ignited my machine and observed my surroundings where I had just created a lasting memory and rode again. On the way, while crossing the Splendor brother, I conveyed my gratitude with a rider thumbs-up and stormed away.
Mallar Akka: an outstanding chef
I was at Natura Backpackers hostel, Muthialpet, Pondicherry. Mallar akka (akka referred to elder sister in Tamil as well in the majority of the Indian peninsula), the only woman at that hostel during my stay, managed the cooking as well as the kitchen. She was an excellent chef and her recipes were so so tasty that my inner foodie always craved for little more food. But the irony is that the chutneys (coconut, tomato, dal etc.) for breakfast were limited in quantity for a dozen guests.
On my 2nd day, I took more chutney than what I needed for and Mallar akka noticed that. She came in rushing, checked the leftover chutney and glared me with a weird look. Though open-minded, I felt shy as well little embarrassed and ran into my room. I felt I was being judged. Though I don't care much about people's judgement, still I believe, as an individual, I represent my serene state Odisha and always keep in mind that nobody should draw conclusions about my state based on my stupidity. But every stupid thought evaporated when Mallar akka, herself gave me 2 more pieces of fish fry as compared to the local Pondi / Tamil guests during dinner.
From that day, I always took Chutneys in less amounts but little more than what other guests consumed. She had always an eye on me during breakfast and I always tried to escape her. Yet all the time, when it comes to non-veg curries, she always offered little more than the other guests. In this way, we celebrated a strange relation, relation between brother-sister, a relation between chef-guest. In the last day of my stay at Pondicherry, I offered a financial tip to her, though she hesitated initially but accepted when she came to knew that I was leaving & riding for my next destination mid at night. She, as an individual represented Pondicherry and because of good people like her, Pondicherry is a better place to travel.
Lunch at Auroville
I was blocked by security and was told that Matri-mandir is closed for tourist in the wake of the Coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic. I parked my Himalayan outside the gate and viewed the oblate spheroid-shaped temple covered by golden disks, remotely. That was a magnificent structure dedicated to spirituality and meditation. While returning from Matri-mandir, in every few minutes, I had crossed by a foreigner. Just like a typical Indian, I used to glare at them in a short conscious manner. In no time, I grew curious about the massive inflow of foreign nationals to Auroville. To my surprise, there were many Italian and Western restaurants along the streets packed with foreigners including waiters.
Travelling is an expensive affair and if one thinking to execute a plan as big as the entire south India tour, the expanses may hit in multiple lakhs. So it's critical for me to avoid expensive eateries and luxury staying but in that process, I shouldn't miss the unique foods available in the different corners of south India. So instead of moving back to my accommodation, I had decided to eat lunch at one of the Italian restaurant called Tonto Pizzaria at Auroville.
I was sitting near a table at Tonto Pizzaria, with stiff composure to look like a gentleman. After some time of struggle, I butchered the idea of gentleman and sat with my natural way, open yet casual. I observed my surrounding joyfully. It's even fascinating that many locals are with foreigners and they share a natural bond. My food arrived almost an hour after my order and the plate consists of Chicken fingers, french fries, broccoli leaves, groundnuts, sauce, cheese, salad etc. Aha, a typical western meal, healthy one but it failed to address the Indian hunger.
Thanks for reading :) If you enjoyed, dice in to my other blogs 👇
👉 Tales of South2 Tales of South 2: Ancient city of Madurai
👈 Experience Pondicherry at Pondi: a French Colonial Settlement
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