Where the roads have no name

An old ride log, Circa 2005

For once, there was a reason for me to ride. A very close
friend had become a father and was at Nagarkurnool at
his in-laws and I had a self-felt obligation to go and visit. I
had to work on Saturday, so packed my Cramsters and
went to office directly, pushed off at 13.30 hours,
skipped lunch and there I was at 14.15 hours on the
Kurnool stretch of N.H.7.

This has been a very, very hot summer in the Deccan
and the ride was a bit like going upstream a hot river
of air, and within half an hour I was already feeling
the salt from my sweat granulating on my arms, neck
and eyebrows, while the heat from the engine was
making my legs feel like they were being barbecued.

Couldn't take it after a point and anyway I had to get
a drink of water to rehydrate my system so stopped at
Shadnagar for some water, pulled up (was it coincidence?)
in front of a liquor shop, decided to treat myself to a Beer,
bought some water sachets and pushed off in 15 minutes.

I had to take a left turn at Jadcherla and even in my
highly disoriented state (heat does that to me) I managed to
negotiate the two turns -- after the aforementioned left -- properly
and was finally out in the interiors.

This stretch to Nagarkurnool is amazing (or maybe I find all
stretches amazing) with the vistas comprising of the usual
small land-holdings, amazing outcrops of rock formations and small
hills, so I was riding blithely, happy to be on the road, the
enervating heat notwithstanding.

The road isn't as good as most interior roads in Andhra
Pradesh, but it is flanked by lots of brick kilns and has
Mango trees lining it for 10 - 15 kms at a stretch and I
could also notice that most of the fields around were tilled
and ready for the rains.

Not surprisingly, there weren't that many patches of green
and the presence of one indicated that it was the bastion of
some progressive / rich / hardworking farmer. Mahboobnagar,
incidentally accounts for some of the most drought-affected villages
in Telengana, with entire villages where people have simply
migrated to far off cities like Mumbai in order to earn a
living.

And yet, most of the fields I passed had somebody or the other
at work, usually a lone farmer bunching up and setting fire to
whichever crop he had nursed and seen withering to death while
the concentric patterns in the fields seemed like a Rangoli of
sweaty toil, drawn to charm a proper Monsoon.

A bit into the ride, I noticed a patch of verdant green besides
the road, four small rice fields besides and draining into each
other with the usual Pond Herons and Egrets standing out in their
spectacular whiteness amidst the greenery and a couple of Crow
Pheasants walking along on the bund of a field as if
it were the high wire in some circus.

I had high hopes of taking some good photos on this ride and since
the birds were anyway behind a convenient blind, killed the engine
and pulled out my SLR to do some cat-footed stalking.

By the time I am close enough to chance a shot with my inadequate
lens, the birds have wised up to me and are daintily
walking away but I still manage a couple of decent shots
before they get worried enough to fly off into the nearby trees.

Its back on the road for me now and I am riding with the SLR
slung over my back, hoping to surprise some heat-sapped bird
(I had never been so close to a Crow Pheasant) and mentally
calculating apertures and shutter speeds whenever some bird
would actually fly past at almost arm's length.

The heat was bad as ever, so I stop to empty 4 water sachets,
take another two odd shots of the vistas after loading another
roll of film and stuff everything back into the Cramsters, light
a smoke and drink in the solitude.


I finish the smoke and start again, wondering why the exhaust's note
seems a bit hollower than usual, pull into some shade and check
the engine oil, breather pipe, cylinder head etc., find nothing
amiss, blame it on the heat and ride on again.

I take the left fork at Bijnapalli, wondering why I haven't yet
managed to ride to quaint Wanaparti with its history of a quixotic
Reddy king who used to rob the Nizam's treasury, powered by his
loyal retinue of African soldiers (there's a place in Hyderabad
called A.C. Guards, meaning African Cavalry Guards), but then, that's
a road I am not taking now either -- Wanaparti is on the right
fork after all.

A bit ahead, riding up a small incline, I am suddenly in a fine
drizzle of rain and surprised to see the road completely wet
with rain, and before I need to resort to packing the camera,
I have ridden out onto a dry stretch again.

Another 20 odd minutes of riding and I am in Nagarkurnool and C
is waiting by the road, pulling his usual antics on seeing me
and naturally asking me the usual questions doubting my sanity.

A quick wash and a visit to the hospital to see the newborn and
we are now headed for a dhaba in a car (with C's brother in law),
sitting down to a repast of roasted groundnuts, fiery mutton curry, a
salad of onions laced with Chilli powder and of course some very
welcome Beer.

But I first emptied four glasses of lemonade (self made there on
the Dhaba table) all in an attempt to rehydrate some more.

The talk was of course about the "situation" in Nagarkurnool
and nearby Mananoor where there had been an attack on an Armed
Police Outpost just the evening before. And being the lazy bum he
is, that was reason enough for C to say that we should just chill,
drink more Beer and stay in the shade the next day.

I just had two Beers, and was already planning a ride to Rollapadu
the next day, though these guys were trying their best to dissuade
me from venturing out in "the risk".

Back at C's in-laws place, after a nice dinner of Egg Curry, Pappu
and Rice, we slept on the terrace and I had managed to wheedle a
promise from C to stir out at 5.00 in the morning to do some
exploratory rides before it got too hot for him.

At around 4.00 in the morning a thundershower had sent us
scurrying down and I then true to form, I overslept, managing
to wake at 9.00 and set out at 10.30 after a detailed
confabulation with C's brother in law and a piece of paper on
which I had jotted down the names of villages that Lonely Planet
doesn't show; with a very basic plan -- to head
for Nandikotkur (and Rollapadu Bird Sanctuary) via Lingal,
Kolhapur and Pagdyala.

But then I was also equally keen to go again to Uma Maheswaram
(this is one of the entrances to Srisailam from the days when
the roads really had no name) a Shiva temple set in the sides
of a horse-shoe shaped spur of the Nallamalais, so I decide
to ride till there and then ride ahead depending on what
information I get.

Of course, there was another reason for doing this, I had
forgotten the piece of paper with my route map back at Nagarkurnool.

It was amazing weather for a change, cloudy and overcast and
I was blessing myself at being spared of the heat. Somewhere
25 odd kms from Nagarkurnool, I stop amidst literally a sea
of cattle, and ask for directions, lend a receptive herdsman
a smoke and realise I am at some cattle fair. I do not
manage to get any proper directions, so I decide to ride on,
wondering how my footrests are caked in cow-dung, reach and ride
through Achampet, and finally am besides Uma Maheswaram.

Its too cloudy for taking any photos (and I have been
here twice before) and I am itching to ride in
the Ghats so I chuck the idea of taking the detour to
Uma Maheswaram and continue on to Mananoor.

I reach Mananoor and pull out my maps and am told that what
L.P. shows as a road is basically non-existent
and what L.P. indicates as a bridge over the Tungabhadra
beyond Kolhapur is in fact a river crossing. I cross check with
the Forest Department person at the checkpost and he tells me
that the best way to Rollapadu is via Kurnool. But it is already
around 1.30 by this time and I have no leave for the next day.
Meanwhile, the Forest Department person realizes that I have
a bike and asks me to ride to Nandikotkur via Dornala!

I am not really sure about what I should do, so start and head
for Srisailam, after 20 odd kms realize that the skies are even
more overcast than before (I had no rain gear with me) and I had
been seeing police patrols all along, so somehow make myself
stop and reassess the situation.

Riding through Dornala would be fun thanks to the heavenly
ghat stretches but it was a wee bit too dangerous considering the
situation and moreover I would just be plain pissed if I reach a Bird
Sanctuary at dusk!

So my options were now limited to either riding back via
Nagarkurnool (and more Beers with C) or riding back on the
Dindi road to Hyderabad.

But then, I wanted some more thrills, so I resurrected the original
plan of the morning, deciding to try the mystery roads to Kolhapur. I
ride back, stop at Mananoor and tell the Forest Department
person that I am riding back to Hyderabad and then finally get
onto the road to Lingal by turning left at the "Ambedkar Statue"
at Achampet.

It is around 2.30 in the afternoon now and I am truly headed for
the boondocks. Mystery roads have always fascinated me
and I do love negotiating bad roads, plus because I was
riding through what is classified as "scrub forest" I was counting
on encountering some Black Buck, peacocks, et al. The Black Buck
is Andhra Pradesh's state animal and has managed to become
something akin to a pest in Kurnool district, thanks to the
fact that it no longer has any natural predators out here.

The road is really bad, even for an interior road and the skies are
still overcast but as usual there are the silver linings. For one,
I am riding through small hamlets where colourful Lambada
women seem to be selling everything from mangoes to
honey to petrol on the road; for another I am riding
parallel to what would be a spur of the Nallamalais till
I finally reach Lingal. The place is spelt "Lingala" on
the milestone and is a sprawl of pucca buildings shadowed by
scrub covered hills. I ask for directions to Kollapur, am told
I am on the wrong route, that I should turn
back and head for Wanaparti, I persist and then am told
to take the next turn to the right and am also told that
there is no road for the next 6 odd kms and thereafter the
road is "illage vuntadee".

So I turn right at the next turn and realize that I am riding into
some street of Lingala, stop a passing truck and get better
directions, turn back and head straight from where I had turned
sometime back.

5 odd kms of "chalta hai" roads get me to another small village
and I am wondering if I am on the right road at all, so stop to
check with a "Maxi Cab" driver. We confer and it turns out I haven't
got lost yet, after all.

So I push off again and the real fun starts now. This is where the
roads really have no name, and by the by the road just ended, the
metalled stretch just petering into a jungle road! Evidently, now
I was into scrub forest, and there were lots of small hillocks
all along the road. The road itself was mostly gravel, badly potholed
and had stretches which could easily double up as Buffalo wallows
when it rains. My bike was wobbling all over the place, the gravelly
stretches were pretty easy, but the mud sections were a pain in the
butt, one never knows which is the level portion and which is a pothole!

But there were any number of colourful birds which I
just photographed in my cranial hard disk and then all of a sudden,
I am on a flat stretch and see 4 Black Buck around 500 metres off!
I kill the motor in a flash, but they have heard the sound and
by the time I can bring the side stand down, they are off!

So it is the road again for me, mostly 2nd and 3rd gear and once in
a while going into the fourth, soon needing to gear down when
the road takes a turn for the worse, getting caught up in stretches
of fine sand that had lesser purchase than beach sand, headed on,
not really knowing where!

Finally, it had to happen and I am at the bottom of some small hill,
a nice "offroading" destination in fact, but also the end of the
road. Evidently, I had take a wrong turn somewhere, so I double back
and ride on, reach a fork and get onto the road relatively more
traveled by.

A bit more of the same gearing up and down and slipping and sliding
in the sandy stretches and I am now at a one-street village, and
surprised to see a RTC bus! Holler up at the driver and ask him where
he is coming from, he hollers down and says from Kolhapur and I am
like, wow! I am still not lost after all!

The next 10 odd kms were more or less a repeat of the same
situation but now I was being clever and looking out for the
bus treads and sticking to the road more traveled by. And yet
there was a stretch which seemed more like the bund of a dried
up lake, with thorny scrub on both sides and a tunnelway that
couldn't have been more than 5 feet high, must say I had fun,
ducking to avoid the thorn, all the while wondering how could
the bus make it through this?

The answer was available at the fork, there seemed to be a
bypass to this forest highway which nature is converting
into a safe tunnel for all its denizens -- nothing but the
smallest route through what were once someone's fields.

By my calculations I had by this time already done some
40 odd kms of these roads and I was either lost or should
break out on a metalled stretch soon. It was in a way getting
a tad worrisome, I mean I was alone after all, and what do I do
if I have a puncture or if a herd of Black Buck attack me?

Seriously speaking, it sure was getting a bit late, and I
was wondering if I should call up my office and ask for leave
the next day (incidentally I was out of cell coverage all the
way from Jadcherla), my butt was by now yelling blue murder,
my wrists, elbows and shoulders were feeling the way they
usually feel after three continuous days on the road and I
was really getting more and more disoriented by the moment.

I am riding through yet another village now, stop on seeing what
looked like a school or some quasi-government building, walk in
and ask where I am, where Kollapur is. For the next 5 odd
minutes, almost everyone there has his own version of my
latitude and longitude and while one says take the left
after you are out of the village, the other says take right
and so on and so forth.

I am luckily used to such situations, so I light a smoke and ask for
some water to drink, wait for the excitement to subside and then ask
again. This time I gather that I am almost out of the bad stretches
and that the road gets pucca in another 2-3 kms.

For once, I have got perfect directions and within 3 kms I am on a
metalled road and promptly caught up in a traffic jam of sheep. I
love such moments, the herdsmen will act as if they are really sorry
for you, but in reality don't care even two hoots, the sheep will
panic if you honk, so makes ultimate sense to wait them out, after
all they do have right of way here.

I ride another 15 kms of interior roads, lined with thorny scrub,
negotiate 2 forks through gutfeel and finally I can see a chain of
hills on the horizon, the road straightening and a milestone
saying "Kollapur 5 ". And then I crest a rise on the road and see a
fairly-sized town, nestling on the sides of a hill-range. Soon, I am
riding into Kollapur, through a couple of markets where I sensibly do
not ask for directions and then finally stop another Maxi Cab driver,
ask him to pull over, spread my maps over his Jeep's bonnet and we
confer. Naturally, he tells me what everyone has been telling all
over, that there is no road across to Pagdyala, that there is a river
crossing on which people "go on" boats and that if I wanted to go to
Nandikotkur I should join N.H.7 at Kothakota, ride on to Kurnool and
then I will be at Nandikotkur.

I wanted a look at the river-crossing and was even
then contemplating a fast clip to Nandikotkur (it was just
5.30 or so) so I ask directions to the same, am asked to
turn right and then left and then right; I do exactly that
and find myself on a road with a couple of Autos coming from
the other way, laden with "Sintex" tanks full of water.

Aha, they are coming from a source of water,
they are coming from the river is what I tell myself,
I ride on telling myself I am not far
from a photographic oasis now, I ride on and
I ride on, but there is no river in sight.

I did pass a decent-sized lake / huge pond with around
15-20 coracles on them and many people on the
lake / pond shore.

This meant that I had taken a wrong turn somewhere
again, but there was a lovely straight and empty road
in front of me and before I could even say "help" there
was a gent besides me, I flag him down and ask him the
by now stock questions.

I am told, I asked the wrong questions and that I should
have asked for directions to Sangameshwaram, that's where
the river crossing is and that it is basically dependent on
boatmen in Coracles, and that I can simply follow this road
and will link up with the Kurnool road at Pebbair!

By now it was getting to be a "light and pattern show" time
in the skies, the western horizons now no longer overcast,
the sun hidden by a deep bank of clouds, with shafts of light
piercing through, crimson, orange and blindingly golden in turns.

So I say goodbye and thank you to my "Margadarasi" and proceed
to ride on, the road is straight and lovely, with herds of
sheep and cattle on either side and in front of me is a temple
rising sheer. I ride on, stopping by to take a shot of sheep
dotting the red vistas, stopping on a bridge to take a shot of
a disused one just below till finally I am in a small town
from where the temple rises sheer.

The temple did make a pretty sight, especially because it
was limned against an impossibly beautiful sky of cotton wool
clouds, so I take some time in enjoying its beauty and am
told by the people who stop by, that it is the Venugopalaswamy
temple, relocated to this place 25 years back to save it from
some irrigation project.

The main entrance to the temple is guarded by a huge
swarm of rock bees, so going in is ruled out, and I start off
again, promising to be back soon. This town / village is
incidentally Jatprole.

Now the temple is again rising sheer, but behind me,
I stop to compose a perfect shot of my chromed "alter ego"
against "God Lit" skies, get lucky with a small bird which
was so intent on getting its daily dose of nectar that it let
me almost catch it (still need to identify it), move on and stop
again at a "Cuddapah Slate" mine where I spent an amazingly
peaceful 15 minutes doing nothing and finally rode out again,
taking some more shots, this time of an amazingly beautiful
sunset (on a pond of all things!) and then rode on to
Pebbair with the usual bugs and crawlies getting into my
eyes and ears and nose.

Pebbair to Hyderabad is 155 kms of roads I know pretty
well, so I decided to take it easy and relive the ride while
giving my butt some much needed respite. Stopped at a Dhaba a bit
before Kothakota for my dinner (6 phulkas and toor daal fry), allowed
myself a Beer, bandied about with an inquisitive wise-ass who
wanted to know what the mileage of the bike was, what I was
doing on these roads with a camera, where I was born, what I do
for a living, if I am married, etcetera, etcetera. I call up my
brother and C and tell them that I am still in Andhra Pradesh and
that I was just taking it easy and will be reaching home
before midnight.

The last stretch, the home run, was fun as usual, I do love
riding in the night; somewhere on the way, my indicators and
speedo display lights gave up, but all in all it was some
ride indeed.