After the ride on April 11, 2026, to the windmills near Kalpavalli, I have been infected by the Quixotic virus. Thankfully, I’ve skipped the “tilting-at-giants” phase and gone straight to the “sit under the windmills, admire the view, and pretend I understand aerodynamics” stage. The view is magnificent, the ride exhilarating, and my judgment questionable—so, of course, I decided to go again. Growing old gracelessly is a philosophy of life acquired with great pain and less brains!

My namesake and biker friend, Young Gautam Sinha (YG), needed no persuasion for a repeat ride! I contacted my old student from IIT Kharagpur, Sudeep Das, from the MBA batch of 2007. A biker himself, he had recently moved up from a Kawasaki Versys 650 to a Honda Africa Twin and, to prove his mojo, had done a solo trip to Nepal earlier this year! He then roped in another batchmate, Shashwat Singh. Interestingly, YG’s wife, Rimanté, agreed to join us on hearing that Shashwat’s wife, Khushboo, was coming along. We agreed to meet at the restaurant Udupi Upahara on NH44 at 5.45 am because both Sudeep and Shashwat lived in South Bangalore.

As with all nights before a ride, it was mostly tossing and turning for me, and come the morning of May 2, we started late. YG, with Rimanté riding pillion, suitably cushioned on his Himalayan 411, and me astride my Honda H’ness CB350. Once upon a time, I terrorized latecomers in my 8 am classes; poetic justice arrived on two wheels. Mercifully, Sudeep spared me the “Sir, you’re late” lecture. Shashwat and Khushboo arrived on his Classic 500. I was meeting Shashwat 19 years after his graduation, and his wife for the first time. Introductions were done, a short stop for breakfast a little ahead, and then we set off in earnest. About 90 km down NH44, before Penukonda, Shashwat and Khushboo had to turn back as their 10-year-old daughter was alone at home. They took a U-turn at the nearest cut, and we waved them goodbye; parenthood took precedence over adventure, as it sometimes must. We were humming along the familiar route, with YG leading, me in the middle, and Sudeep on his Africa Twin as “tail-end Charlie”! The familiar road and the gentle curves were again a delight, and the kilometres rolled by on NH44. Near the Kia factory, we took the left fork onto MDR136/Chennekothapalli Road.

Soon we were at the bottom of the hill near Gondipalle for the 3 km-plus off-road climb to Kalpavalli Viewpoint. Ahead of me, YG made it up this rutted, stone-strewn track with élan, even with his wife riding pillion. As expected, I was angst-ridden and on tenterhooks again. There was a pleasant surprise for me! Rain in the previous days had washed away most of the loose soil and pebbles, making the track more compact. The uphill ride this time was less full of angst: was it the road conditions or experience? Sudeep ambled up the slope. We were at the top of the hill under the gigantic windmills. Poor Rimanté declared that she was battered and promptly took one of the cushions, lay down on the foundation of the windmill, and fell asleep on the cold concrete! As per standard operating procedure, YG took out his propane stove and asked for the tea bags I had promised! Reader, I had forgotten them; thus ended the Kalpavalli Tea Ceremony before it began! While we savoured the view, I took a closer look at Sudeep’s Africa Twin and was intrigued by the fact that there was no gear-shifter pedal—it was a DCT! For the uninitiated, Double Clutch Transmission means the engine shifts gears automatically! The bike also had paddle shifters, like cars, in case one felt like shifting gears manually! And what I had assumed was the clutch lever was actually the parking brake! I really felt my age, ignorant of the advances in motorcycle technology! Those thirty-odd minutes on the hilltop were a perfect pocket of quiet: big skies, clean air, and the soft whoosh of the blades passing their low point. Serenity, seasoned with a pinch of self-mockery and the faint aftertaste of undelivered tea.

The return was, shall we say, character-building. The sun dialled up the wattage, my riding jacket transformed into a portable sauna, and hydration became a competitive sport. We stopped at a roadside restaurant and consumed copious quantities of fruit juice to revive ourselves, and Rimanté looked partially recovered from her travails! Suitably hydrated, we started the return journey. Back on NH44, the trucks and buses performed their usual three-lane wall formation, and we threaded the gaps with the patience of saints and the reflexes of slightly overconfident toreadors. Before Devanahalli, Sudeep took a left turn, while we took a right and followed the back roads for the return trip. My darling H’ness returned an average of 41 km/l, which I attribute entirely to my mature, restrained riding and absolutely not to my inability to overtake fast enough in 38-degree heat.

The Stats: 3 bikes, 3 riders, and one pillion (Shashwat and Khushboo do not count as they left midway), 8+ hours, 310 km, an amazing view, the pleasure of catching up with old students after nearly two decades, and old memories from IIT Kharagpur to cherish. Would I do it again? Of course. I’ve already set a reminder for tea bags. Let’s see what I forget next time.

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