Bikin' around

Bikes are ubiquitous throughout India. Everyone has one and in most cases they're more efficient forms of transportation than cars, motorcycles or buses.

Being a bike lover I was very interested in partaking in joining the multitudes of bikers. Every place I've been so far I've said “Here, I'm going to bike.” And at every place the same thing happened. I ran into some sort of complication with the renting of a bike, or I simply forgot.

Well not here at Tiruvenamali. Because I know people here I was able to borrow a bike and find a guide to take me around the holy mountain Mount Arunachalla.

The story behind Mount Arunachalla is awesome. According to Hindu myth Brahmen and Vishnu (Aspects of Shiva, who is God) were arguing about who was the greater god. Suddenly a huge pillar of fire appeared. This pillar of fire pierced all three worlds. The underworld, our world and the higher world. Out of the pillar of fire a voice said, “Who ever finds the end of this pillar of fire is the greater god.” So, Brahmen turned himself into a boar and dug deep into the earth, meanwhile Vishnu became a swan and flew high up into the sky.

Thousands of years go by(that sure does put the Ironman into perspective). Finally both gods return. Neither of them had found the end. As soon as they return the pillar of fire disappears and Lord Shiva (God) appears. Basically the point of the story is that Shiva is the greatest. However, all that was left of the pillar of fire was Mount Arunachalla. Therefor it is a very holy place for Hindus.

So, I wanted to bike around it. My guide was a guy named Aaron, he is 26 and has lived in Tiruvenamali for six years. I borrowed a bike from my hosts Uta and Volker. Aaron and I headed out determined and full of the energy of ignorance. As I wheeled my vehicle out of the garage Uta yelled after me that the tires were “A little low on air, but you can get them filled somewhere.”

Great! No problem there. Except there was. We went from shop to shop asking about pumps. It must have been a bad day or something for the pump industry because there wasn't a single pump. Finally after walking maybe a mile we found a place with pumps. We filled our tires for five rupees and rolled out.

Quickly, before we become too lost in the story let me explain the bike situation in India. Generally speaking bikes in India are old, clunky, rusted and heavy. Really heavy. Like 30 or 40 pounds of rusted steel. Thinking I would be cool I decided to throw my bike over my shoulder and walk with it. In the States this is generally a pretty reasonable and even cool thing to do. I grabbed the bike and lifted it. Like two inches. I quickly abandoned any thoughts of ever picking up this machine again. Like a motorcycle I was sure that if I fell over I would have to ask passersby to help me pick it up.

So, we rolled out. We jumped into the rolling, bucking organism that is Indian traffic. It was amazing. Cars, motorcycles, bicycles, humans, cows and oxen swirling around. Dodging in and out of impossibly small spaces. I loved it. The funny thing is I felt safer in India traffic than I do in American traffic. You have to be alert to drive anywhere in India. You can't drift off. There is no room for error. Therefore people make less errors. Seriously, the accident rate here is lower than in western countries.

Anyways, Aaron and I biked on. It was evening and very cool and beautiful. My bike, which was luxurious by Indian standards, was not exactly a smooth ride. The back wheel was so out of alignment I thought it might just fall off. But it was all good. I was riding around a holy mountain with someone almost my own age. Life was good.

Until it wasn't. Tharump, tharump tharump. At first I though it was just one of the many noises my bike was making. I didn't think it was a problem. I mean maybe it was a problem, but it sure wasn't a problem that needed any attention. Except I began to realize that I was going slower and slower. And every bump on the road seemed to be that much more shocking on the bum.

My back wheel was flat. No problem. I just whipped out my patch kit and patched it, right? No. Not right. Wrong. I kept riding. Tharump, tharump, tharump. With each hideous noise I felt the rim of the back wheel get knocked out of alignment. My conscious was disturbed. Sure, I can handle starving beggar children. Yeah, I can pass by homeless families. But a messed up bike rim? No way. That is crossing the line. What did that poor rim ever do to deserve such treatment?

I cursed God for his cruelty and stopped the bike.

Aaron and I realized that we had three possible courses of action. One we could fill up the tire and continue going and hope to find another place to fill it up by the time it got flat again. Two we could lock up the bike and continue around the mountain. We would double up on Aaron's bike and hope for the best. Three we could lock up the bike and double up on Aaron's bike and bike back to the place I'm staying. There we could get reinforcements, drink some Chai and go at it again.

Being young and therefor invincible we decided that all three of these courses of action were too reasonable. Instead we would fix the tire and finish the intended trip around the mountain.

The first place we asked told us to go down the road. So we did. The place we found was a little combination shop/home deal. The whole family was there. One little boy and one little girl. We asked the woman at the counter if they had a bicycle pump and patches. She waggled her head and began to yell and hit her husband, who was passed out on a bench.

The man looked up groggily and rolled away from his wife. She continued to yell and hit him. Finally he stumbled out of bench cursing in Tamil. He was fairly young looking but had a bad limp. He grabbed a kit and began to work on the bike.

Aaron and I decided that the best course of action was to drink chai. So we ordered two cups of steamy hot chai. Then we sat down to drink and wait for our savior to fix the bike. One hour (and probably 20 mosquito bites) into the whole situation we decided to have a second cup o' chai.

Occasionally the 'bike mechanic' would call me over to help with some minor detail. The problem was the the bike tube was pinched by the rim. It was a pretty easy patch but everything is a little harder in India.

At this point it was almost completely dark. The mechanic called me over and handed me a burning piece of rubber. He asked me (through a series of gestures and garbled phrases) to hold the flaming piece of cancerous fumes closer to his work. I did, trying not to think about what the thick oily smoke was doing to my lungs.

Finally, after two hours the tire was fixed. Nearly skipping with joy Aaron and I jumped onto our vehicles and headed out. Although it was pitch black outside we didn't hesitate in the continuation of our journey. So what we couldn't see the mountain? No big deal.

The rest of the trip went quite smoothly. We raced through Indian traffic becoming one with the organism. We ate at a very good Indian Hotel. The thing is generally the best restaurants are hotel restaurants. Additionally, many 'Hotels' aren't hotels at all. They are only restaurants. So we ate at 'hotel', which may or may not have been an actual hotel (I know it's all very confusing).

After the meal, which was good, we went to a local coffee shops. The coffee shop wasn't local in the sense that local people went there. Or that a local person owned it. The only reason I call it local is because it was in Tiruvenamali. Walking into that shop felt like going into a shop in some eclectic city in the United States. It was full of spiritual 'seekers'. Upon their necks they had so much sacred bling I was surprised I wasn't enlightened simply by being in the same space as them.

The main even of the night at this coffee shop was a poet. He was animated and funny. He acted out most of his poems and seemed to genuinely love what he was doing. Despite my negative comments about the 'spiritual bling' I still enjoyed being there.

I finally made it back to the house. It had been a long day full of interesting trials and tribulations. Wahoo. So then I went to bed and and that was that.