The art of riding

I lean into the next turn, rather widely, hoping not to meet another truck that would push me all the way to the sideline. There it is - I have the distant end of the turn in view, with nothing in the way. I can accelerate freely and enjoy the sensation as the centrifugal force straightens the bike to a horizontal position again.

After five hours of riding a heavily loaded RE Himalayan with Priya on the pillion across Nepalese countryside, I’m a bit weary. But just this one perfect corner is everything I need to feel instantly refreshed - only to come across another broken, gravelly section a few hundred meters ahead.

Here I go again, gripping the sides of the petrol tank with my knees and shifting my weight onto my feet and the pegs, easing the load off my arms and back as I approach the drop from tarmac to a rugged surface full of potholes, banks, and dips. There they are - trucks hopping and bouncing around, kicking up clouds of dust. I lower my helmet visor all the way down.

Soon I find myself on a sandy strip almost on the sideline, pushing the bike with one knee to turn in a dirt-bike fashion to navigate around potholes the size of a kid’s garden pool.

A few moments later, I’m back on tarmac again. I feel my back and shoulders stiffen slightly after wrestling with 280 kg of weight. But I’m satisfied—the images of perfect balance and precise pathfinding still resonate in my mind, making all the effort worth it.

And this is precisely why I love bike riding. You are there. Every detail of the road ahead matters. Every movement of your body counts. It’s not just about pointing the bike in a direction—you and the bike are one. It’s about being out in nature, interacting with it, feeling it. The hot air and dust sting your eyes, the mist from waterfalls glistens in the air, and you take in the scent of grass, earth, and forest. It’s about participating in the wonder of the world—man, machine, and nature.

And finally, it’s about you. You can’t blame the bike for not performing well enough - only yourself for not preparing it properly. Nor can you blame the terrain for being too rough - it’s your skill that’s lacking.

Bike riding is an art. And like all art, ultimately, it brings you back to yourself. It strips you naked, revealing everything you are—all the passion, all the fear and weakness, all the strength and beauty.