Sometime ago, a 15-year-old paid me the biggest compliment I had received in a while. You are a cool teacher, she told me, even as she enveloped me in a bear hug as we stood shivering in the nippy wind somewhere in the Himalayas. What sets this apart from just another moment of kindness is the context.
We found ourselves not just on any other picturesque holiday in the mountains but as a part of InSync, India’s first inclusive tandem cycling expedition. She was in the middle of becoming the youngest blind girl to pedal the 550 kilometres between Manali and Khardung La, the world’s highest motorable road.
She and 20-odd others like her were my story for the second half of August. We all found ourselves in Manali, determined to push our own boundaries and redefine lines, and cycling was the weapon of choice. Fifteen cyclists set off on the expedition, armed with their support crew, including photographers, a doctor, and enough hands to make sure all were well fed and hydrated at all times.
Adventures Beyond Barriers Foundation, the Pune-based non-profit that had organised this annual expedition, specialised in promoting inclusion for persons with disability through adventure sports, and this was the first time visually impaired, and amputee cyclists were taking on such a gargantuan feat. No one knew exactly what awaited in the mountains.
The next nine days disappeared in a flurry of tents, makeshift toilets, a scramble for toilet paper, shivers and hugs, and the constant determination to just keep pushing.
Varied experiences
With participants ranging from seasoned adventure enthusiasts to first-time cyclists, the experiences were vastly different. One participant completed the route entirely after having bought his cycle only at the end of May. Another pedalled every kilometre of the way fuelled by his practice in the forests near Srinagar. The third whipped out cookies that her daughter had baked, whenever anyone was in need of a sugar rush. For the fourth, the expedition was a way of showing people that age was merely a number.
Every individual came on the expedition armed with a personal motivation so sound that it survived -6 degree Centigrade weather, bad roads, physical wear and tear, and all else that comes with taking on a task of this scale.
Yet, the true magic for me lay in the moments of quiet — there is something about the mountains that catalyses them. Everyone who embraces them seems to become simultaneously their strongest and most vulnerable selves. Those moments of quiet truly reflected the spirit of inclusion.
Sometimes they crept up unexpectedly — when the support crew had a few moments to spare on the bus and conversation was struck, when tents were warmed by newly-made friends and there was little else to do at 9 pm, when a sighted captain described the environs to the blind stoker pedalling at the back.
At other times, they were to be expected — when the body was aching for a break, when a hot shower was within arm’s reach.
All about people
Yet, somewhere over the two weeks, InSync ceased to be about cycling and became about the people, the experiences, and the stories. It became about egging each other on and pushing each other forward.
When I set out for Manali one Wednesday evening, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. I had 3,000 kilometres of travelling to cover — a feat that left me feeling like the expedition was over before it had even begun, and I had never met any of the participants before. A sense of nervousness washed over me, and yet nothing could have prepared me for what lay ahead.
The next two weeks was a journey of 20-odd people in the mountains, transforming from cycling buddies to living embodiments of what inclusion truly means — transcending disability, treating it as yet another marker, and forging deep, individual relationships.
