The 'True' North

You are lucky if you come back to warm home, a lady waiting for you with a hot meal on the table while the kid's creating a ruckus who get's to hug you first and amidst all this blessing you stumble with loved filled feet, dropping the day's heaviness of your shoulder and give into their arm's at the doorstep as if you have surrendered but yet victorious.

You got a chance to be Maximus Meridius for another day but to return to a breathing family, nothing to be filled by vengeance but be felt loved and wanted, while they see you with a hope, relaxation a husband, a father has returned and if you are the luckiest one then you even get to return back home as a son to your  ageing parents.

Such a beautiful picture a brain imagines while we read onto certain word's, filled in the gaps, the void's we feel within ourselves. For all the joy's we share and all the time we spared for the loved one's is the only currency we will ever earn I guess & probably the only asset we will leave behind, for the materialistic will be gained and perished before time but these memories, these feeling of just being there, the void in absence, the beautiful foliage we fill the gaps amongst us is what will outlive us. 

You are probably reading this on the first or last train to or from your home to wherever you want to be, probably you are having that quick meal before its time to jump back to the desk, probably you are standing on the ledge and given up, probably you are just basking it all in - one blog at a time, no matter, I say put everything on hold for few minutes, take a pause, look above, look beside, take a 360 of your surrounding, zoom out from the chaos thats probably around and within you and you will notice that no one care's but you & that matter's, being there in the moment matter's. Probably you will remember why you started at all? - Let me answer to it, to get back to the beautiful picture that your brain imagined in the beginning.

What an irony life has always been, we venture into the abyss only to return home to find it, its the same story where ever you go, traveler's come home to feel the ultimate peace, job goer's come back home to feel the calm before the storm next day, go-getter's come back home to have a break and be themselves, the soldier comes home to find what he has been protecting all this time, we all come back home to become us, shedding the armor at the gates and be the child we grew up knowing, ourselves. We return home to be us.

Sometimes it becomes chaos, what doesn't. the streets are empty at night to be pounded the next busy hour, the jungle calms down from the day's roar and hunts, the sky goes dark from the day's shine bright, everything cool's down, as if everyone, everything needs a break, a pause. So do you! So do we all...

It's such an irony yet beautiful that we start from home to fight the cunning, win and lose each day, just so we have something return back too everyday, feel secure and achieved. Well, that's the only thing ever there is. We often chase big milestones — promotions, possessions, titles, and trophies to let it hang on the wall and gather dust while our heads bow down to the never ending thoughts, works and worry of the world, to just leave behind something better when the time comes — only to realize that the real prize was waiting for us at the doorway all along. That warm glance, that familiar smell from the kitchen, the laughter that echoes louder than any applause you will ever recieve amongst the unknown faces you will for sure not be able to remember few years down the line, yes! that's true if its not now, give it time and it will seep into your reality.

But what happens when home isn’t perfect? When silence replaces noise, when absence replaces presence? Even then, the idea of home never leaves us. It becomes a compass, the true north of our adventures — guiding us through the world, through the fog of war, the war that erupts amongst and within us, only reminding us of where we belong, even if we’re still searching, still lost.

Home doesn’t always have four walls. Sometimes it’s a person, sometimes a memory, sometimes a state of mind. For some, it’s the call of their mother just while the start or end their day. For others, it’s the wag of a dog’s tail. For a traveler like me, it’s seeing the gates of my house from far while I enter my street, while the smell of chai brewing within me after a long ride. And for someone else, it might just be a quiet corner where they can finally breathe. finally be weightless.

The truth is — we don’t fight our battles for money, medals, or monumental achievement's I think We fight them just to earn the right to come back, to return, to belong, to lift our own weight and atleast once at the end be able to see eye to eye with your wife, kids, parents, most importantly the next morning in the mirror. That is the cycle of our lives: venture into the chaos, and then retreat into love.

So, if you’re reading this while standing on a crowded street while the city bustles past you, or lost in your own thoughts at midnight, pause for a moment. Ask yourself: What does home mean to me? Where do I return when the world strips me bare? where would I be if not home? Where's that if not already?

If you find the answer, hold onto it. Protect it. Nurture it. Because in the end, everything else is noise.

I remember having a small talk with my neighbour, his hair was now made of silver and the weight he carried all this time has already made him humble and bow down naturally and he randomly said to me "What a fine weather today", I rustled through my bag while searching for the wallet I always tend to forget and said "Yes indeed, less hot comparatively". He said "haha! Yeah, I would had wished to go for a long drive with my wife, if only i was able to drive again and she been beside me." he smirked yet content. And I was taken aback, few second's just went by putting me in a deep thought through out the day while, I for the very rare of moments, felt that man's loneliness, his wish to drive again and the void his wife has left naturally where he cannot do anything about it yet he has made content with it, he had too I guess, and he still find's the energy to go for a walk alone, gather up words to speak with a young man like me, probably make him feel the way he felt few years ago, I wanted to go back to him and ask him for what he misses but I assumed he has given all he could have, worked all his able days into what he has today from a coming home to look into the eye to now probably look at the beautiful picture's his life had given chance to freeze time in and a wish he could do it all again much better this time.

Home — however you define it — is the only truth worth coming back to. 

Return to your true north.

- Nirmal.

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Comment your view's on what do you feel about your true north? what get's you going yet long you to come back home.

Dear Jane

There is a dimension we don’t yet understand properly, but it is omnipresent, running parallel to our timeline. We forget it exists, but it intersects with us only at the right time.

— Nirmal Shah.

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From pins to pens, dates to events — we forget a million things. We do this to make space for new memories, ones our brain considers more important to keep. Like RAM in a computer, our brain clears the cache. To register new entries, it randomly decides which old ones to let go of, until someone or something jogs them back into our light.

Studies even say people who frequently forget things often have faster, more intelligent brains — their gray matter is wired differently, more competitive, hyperactive, and selective about what’s worth keeping.

But being forgetful isn’t always a sign of genius. It could also signal the early stages of Alzheimer’s — touch wood. The truth is, all of us knowingly or unknowingly let go of memories daily, making space for just enough checklists to function. Yet, those forgotten things don’t vanish. They stay, omnipresent, in a dimension we feel but cannot explain.

And there is one thing, beyond all the material objects in the world, that is both widely used and often forgotten — letters.

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Ray

Ray was writing a letter one day, pouring his emotions onto paper. He had been through some of the toughest times of his life and longed for a warm hug from his wife, who at that moment was far away. The letter he was about to stamp and send would take days to reach her — and he feared it might already be too late.

Still, Ray picked up his pen and burned his feelings into the page until he felt empty, as if his soul had bled through the ink. He wrote so deeply that his words left imprints on the next sheet of paper. His wish was that Jane, his wife, would pick up where his words left off. He always felt Jane knew him so well they could complete each other’s sentences without speaking.

By the time Ray finished, the paper felt heavier than it was — weighed down by emotion. He sealed it neatly inside an envelope, as if tucking a newborn in a warm towel. On the front, in his careful handwriting, it read: “To Dear Jane.”

The postmaster knew Ray well. He was familiar with the white envelopes Ray often dropped off, always carrying the weight of his heart. Each time, Ray left reassured by the postmaster’s silent nod — his unspoken promise that the letter would be on its way.

That September morning, heavy rain poured as Ray handed over the envelope. He had carried it inside a zip-lock bag to protect it from the downpour — terrified that if even one drop blurred the ink, his feelings would be lost forever. But destiny had other plans.

The letter was tossed into a pile among hundreds of others — bills, summons, declarations, apologies, love notes. It sat there until it was sorted by dozens of fast, machine-like hands. But one small error changed everything: a wrong barcode sticker sent Ray’s letter to the wrong center.

And just like that, his words vanished.

Ray never knew. Weeks later, drowning in grief and unanswered questions, he pulled the trigger on himself. His memories, his pain, his love for Jane — splattered across the wedding photo he couldn’t bear to look at anymore.

No one could measure the weight of his letter. Twenty-five grams on a scale, but immeasurable in its emotional gravity.

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        Jane

Jane, too, had written a letter around the same time. Hers was returned to her unopened, by the time she had to vacate the home she couldn’t live in without Ray.

Her letter read:

“Loving Ray,

I know you have been hurting, and so have I. But it is more important that, despite our disagreements, we agree on one thing — we love each other. It is more important that we forgive than allow this hurt to win. I forgive you, Ray, and I long to be with you again. I will wind up my things here shortly and return home. I’m sorry for the pain we caused each other.

Forever yours,
Jane”

But Ray never got a chance to read it. His grief and disappointment won.

Often, anger’s first victim is the person holding it. Ray couldn’t forgive himself or Jane in time — and that cost him everything.

Osho once said: “Where there is no control on the start, and no control on the end, why do we believe there is control in the middle? Flow like the river. Life begins when we let go.”

Ray couldn’t let go. His pain was unbearable, too consuming. And like so many before him, he was swept away by it.

Influenced by Socrates, A Greek writer Euripides once wrote: “And why should we feel anger at the world? As if the world would notice?”

Why do we cling so hard to being right? 

Why must we always be understood? 

Why do we forget the simplest truth — that we are mortal?

Accept it, being 'wrong' is human. It is the birthplace of discovery, growth, and learning. Without mistakes, we would still be in the stone age, playing with sticks and stones, we wouldnt have able to reach the moon and back, nor be able to click pictures of deep oceanic creatures we still have yet to explore, nor find the herbal medicines to our ever dying bodies in hope to prolong our lives for even a second more to be here, Yet even after centuries of evolution, we still cannot embrace the right to be wrong. 

Perhaps it will take another ice age before we finally evolve enough to understand.

If you are hurting, or have been hurt, remember this: learn to forgive quickly. Forgive immediately. Life is too short to waste on being angry at the ones we love. Because at the end, the only thing we carry forward — and the only thing we leave behind — is love.

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7 Curug Bibijilan Waterfalls – Hidden Gem in Sukabumi

The Phone Call.

The transit to Indonesia began with a phone call from my maternal family. Normally, these calls are uneventful—filled with joy, laughter, and the latest stories of weekend escapes. But this time, it was different. Mom picked up the call and went completely pale, as if a black hole had sucked her soul into the abyss. Dad’s trembling footsteps toward his sobbing wife only confirmed it wasn’t good news.

We weren’t completely unaware of the situation, but this call was different. My Nani had begun to lose her battle with cancer. Like the brave Rajwadi kings of Rajasthan, who were said to fight even after being decapitated, she was still holding on with a warrior’s spirit.

What a way to start the journey. It was supposed to be filled with sorrow, grief, and worry. Yet there’s something so positive about my family in Indonesia. They don’t seem to worry too much about what life throws at them. In all my 30 years of visiting, I’ve never seen their eyebrows furrow.

Met with an accident? “Cool, we’re alive. We’ll fix the car.”
Missed a rest stop on the highway? “Cool, pour hot water from the thermos, eat instant noodles, sing karaoke.”
Don’t feel like working? “Cool, let’s close shop and camp by the beach.”

That subtle art of not worrying is the magic of life I learned from them this time. In India, a call like this would bring a rush of bad feelings, frantic thoughts, and plans for last meetings before emotions could even settle. In Indonesia, they carry it differently.

2 Hill's Away

We were in the storm. We decided to deal with the storm. And then, in the middle of it all, my uncle and cousin suggested a change—a trip to the waterfalls hidden in the mountains, protected by tall pine trees. Waterfalls so fierce you could hear them over rustling leaves and jungle birds, yet melodic enough to calm your soul. To break that melody, we would take our dirt bikes, scraping the tarmac under the wide blue sky.

The next morning, we were up at 5 am, pumped and ready. By 6 am, the city was already buzzing after morning prayers. I packed my action camera, one power bank, a little cash, and off we went on our bikes.

Two hills away—that’s how destinations are measured in my mom’s village. Not by postal codes. A 30 km ride, about 2 hours on motorcycles. Scenic not only for the landscapes but also for the people. No one’s in a rush. They drive slowly, listen to Dangdut folk songs, shift gears with one hand while puffing their favorite cigarettes with the other. Amidst the smoky fog, even I felt relaxed.

Around sunrise, our stomachs growled as we stopped to admire a clear view of Mount Gede and Mount Pangrango, both usually shy behind clouds. I flew my drone for the first time, capturing their majesty in 4K. As the drone climbed, all three of our stomachs growled together like a trending “grrrr” meme. Hunger hit us hard.

Nearby was a resort, but we didn’t want to break the adventure’s tempo. Instead, we stumbled upon Amador Ranch—a horse ranch. I’d never seen proper stallion-grade horses in my mom’s village. Ponies, sure, but not this. That’s why I love roaming: to find experiences no book or YouTube video can replicate.

Amador Ranch sat on a high hill, overlooking the valley we had just climbed. From its bamboo suspension bridge viewpoint, I launched the drone again, capturing panoramic memoirs against the backdrop of the two glorious mountains, flaunting themselves like peacocks in monsoon.

The sun lit the dewy grass while clouds played hide and seek with the valley below. Breakfast was black coffee and cheeseburgers with potato fries. Hungry or not, the food was genuinely good. And cheap too—what cost us 3 burger's with coffee there would barely cover a sandwich back in India.

Hidden Among The Pine Trees

By now, the mountains hid behind clouds again, and we were eager to move. A steep downhill through a small village brought us closer. Fishermen, grocers, and fishing lot owners waved as we passed. Soon, we heard the thunder of water crashing—Curug Bibijilan.

At the first gate, locals sat smoking cigarettes and snacking on tahu, asking for a small entrance fee. My uncle paid, shaking hands with the elder, while my brother and I rushed ahead, too excited to care. We parked the bikes near towering pine trees, passing school kids and even spotting a rusty yet stylish custom chopper.

The forest dipped suddenly, almost like a crack in the mountain, split by the mighty Curug Bibijilan. A welcome board confirmed it. Mist from the falls coated my glasses and hair. The rocks were slippery, and both my brother and I regretted wearing the wrong shoes. Still, we made it to the base of the fourth waterfall, where we spent the rest of the day.

A bamboo-and-wood bridge crossed a calmer part of the falls, decorated with moss and dripping water—like something out of Jumanji. The roar of the waterfall filled the air, mixing with the laughter of children swimming in the pool below. My uncle jumped in first, then me, then my brother.

I was scared of the rocks, and the rush of water was so strong it kept pushing me back. Hesitantly, I dipped my left foot first into the icy pool while the others were already sitting under the falls above, claiming a spot for us. Slowly, I pushed forward through the current, mounted my camera on the chest harness, hoping it captured the POV of what I was daring to experience for the very first time.

From a distance, my uncle saw me struggling. Probably I took the wrong approach because he yelled, “Keep coming straight, you’re all right!” and reached his hand out like he was saving a man on a ledge. Step after step, I gasped, swallowed gulps of mineral-rich water, but finally, I reached his hand. He pulled me up. Boy, it was fun though—never felt so refreshed and energized before.

We sat there for an hour or so, clicking pictures with occasional silence in between, as if everyone needed to shut up and bask in the chaos of the waterfall crashing behind us. We didn’t speak for another 30 minutes, just exchanged smiles and smirks while combing our wet hair with our hands, sinking into the moss-green stones nature had lent us for the time being.

I felt like I was in zen, within myself. Very rarely am I left thoughtless—no murmurs of my brain, no voices debating right or wrong. In that moment, I was weightless, free. I’d drive or travel any distance to feel that again.

Later, we dragged our tired bones and glittering skin back up the hill, our legs trembling as if we’d done leg day at the gym. Famished, we ran to a small shack for a cup of black coffee and instant noodles. Sitting on a bamboo bench, slurping hot noodles and warming our hands on steaming coffee, I suddenly remembered a scene from Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. After his ocean dive, one protagonist cries—not out of fear, but from pure bliss. That’s exactly how I felt in that moment.

Sometimes we complicate life so much with self-imposed goals that we forget why we’re here in the first place. I’ve noticed it in the rains especially. Kids, weighed down by heavy backpacks, still laugh and splash under the rain, umbrella closed. And then there’s us—running for the nearest shed, hiding from the very thing we once loved.

So I’ll leave you with a question today. Are you the one who still enjoys the rain, no matter what? Or are you the one who now runs for shelter? Think about it.

That’s all from Curug Bibijilan Waterfall—a natural wonder that might not be on the world map, but will always be pinned to the wall of my memory.

Roadster out!

Check out the video here: Curug Bibijilan Waterfall, Sukabumi, Indonesia.

Indonesia Jungle Trail Riding Adventure – Exploring Sukabumi, Gunung Gede & Pangrango Forests on Dirt Bikes

The Pursuit Of Freedom

There is always something raw and magical about riding into the heart of nature, leaving behind human paved roads and venturing into the wild where nature has taken its course over years of dewy growth while moss was the main construction worker bridging the gap between untouched but soon to be kissed with love of nature, it would be or I must say it is the true sense and form the world was offered to us once we began the trail.

Recently, I set out on an unforgettable trail-riding adventure in Indonesia’s Sukabumi region, exploring the scenic tea gardens, volcanic trails, and dense forests near Gunung Gede and Pangrango National Park.

This particular ride of mine was even more special, As I wasn’t riding alone – my family had joined me on dirt bikes like the Kawasaki KLX230, Honda CRF150, and Viar 150 and together, we discovered the thrill of off-roading into the beauty of untouched landscapes soon to be tested and tried to be tamed by us.

These are Motorcycles That Took Us There

• Kawasaki KLX230 – A lightweight yet powerful trail machine perfect for tackling jungle climbs. Which my brother took into his stride.

• Honda CRF150 – Compact, fun, and reliable for both beginners and seasoned riders which my uncle took for his comfort and out of my fear of it.

• Viar 150 – A local Indonesian trail bike that held its own in rugged conditions which I personally felt at home riding but it was soon to change. 

Our bike's were the flavor to our adventure soup we had been stirring around, and switching between them made the adventure even more exciting.

 Jungle Trails of Sukabumi

We started our ride from a near by lush tea garden, which was privately owned yet had a narrow dirt paths from its side that later wound through emerald-green color tea plantation's, I personally had never before seen such tea garden except from the time I was in Munnar, India. The air was fresh, minty, filled with the earthy aroma of wet soil and mist-covered leaves. Soon, we entered the dense jungle trails, where the path narrowed and roots, rocks, and muddy slopes tested both rider and machine. Every twist of the throttle was a battle against nature, but that’s exactly what made it so thrilling.

It was here where we first made visual contact with the nature's offspring that turned out to be so majestic, violent but yet so quiet, sleeping and basking amongst the clouds and tall pine trees as its blanket but yet snoring in anger which one could hear every now on then as it gargle's throughout the day.

Gunung Gede & Pangrango Wilderness

One of the highlights was riding along the base of Gunung Gede and Pangrango, two iconic volcanic mountains. The terrain was a mix of slippery descents, river crossings, and steep forest climbs, all set against a backdrop of towering pine trees and echoing wildlife calls afar, I could literally hear birds after so long, I realized that amongst the chaotic city life my ears had become deaf to the rhythm of nature.

It felt less like a ride and more like a journey into a lost world, a world I - We all know about yet we forgot it over the years of our own turmoil's in search of something so achievable that we have yet to achieve it.

Family, Fun & Adventure  

What made this trip unforgettable was doing it as a family adventure, a decision my uncle had already made since the day he got to learn that I was coming to Indonesia all the way from India, he had meticulously planned the whole route with my brother, while he even helped to conjure life into a dead motorcycle which had seen it best days in a dark corner of our garage back home, the viar 150, a surplus gift from the Indonesian military to honor the service of my uncle's brother and the valor was still warm in the motorcycle too, I heard it took some doing to start it but it breathed with a yawn of white smoke but was alive, both my uncle and the bike.

We weren’t just trail riding – we were bonding over mud, laughter, and shared challenges from sticky situation to cold river water. From helping each other push bikes through tough sections to celebrating small victories at scenic spots, the experience was both thrilling and heartwarming.

Trail riding here isn’t easy – slippery mud tracks, unpredictable rain, and steep climbs, rocky to muddy to runny to dense forest and jungles demanded focus and endurance. But every challenge made reaching the next viewpoint even more rewarding. So much rewarding that it gave us life, a purpose, a true sense of feeling a soul breathe, think, live within you that you and I have surely forgotten how it feels.

Trail riding in Indonesia’s volcanic jungles is more than just an adventure – it’s a spiritual escape into nature, inner self, to meet with yourself amongst the calm of the nature while the adventure is the only chaos going through your mind. For me, this wasn’t just about motorcycles, but about family, exploration, and discovering hidden gems of this beautiful country and finally meeting myself doing something I truly love.

If you ever dream of mixing adventure, nature, and two wheels, Sukabumi’s trails near Gunung Gede and Pangrango should be on your bucket list, add another line with a unmarked checkbox right now and you wont regret it while putting a tick on it later.

Watch the Full Adventure on YouTube

This ride was captured across 4 episodes and 1 exclusive live stream on my channel, showcasing every trail, climb, and breathtaking view. If you love motorcycles, travel, or simply exploring the unknown, check out the playlist:

👉 Watch Jungle Trail Riding in Indonesia Playlist on YouTube

(Few Picture's from the wilderness)

How To Pack for A Motorcycle Trip?

The Million Dollar Question? Isn't It...

We all have travelled in some part of our lives and some lucky few bastards amongst us are already at it while reading this and probably a few chosen one's are 24x7 are on it as a job and ironically these one's hate it... Well, you might be wondering why? what's to hate in travelling right...? That's the million dollar question to it and the majority of them I have met and asked the same question, lets say 60% female's and 40% male's say it the 'packing and unpacking part'.

Now its all bit of 'Easy-Peasy-Japanesey' when you are either travelling alone or you are travelling by air (leaving the airport's layover's aside, of course!) but its get much harder when you are travelling on a motorcycle, yeah! You have not too much room to play around with and its gets harder if you have a plus one riding bitch with you. All of this needs a major few consideration and tiny bit of management which we will talk in a much simpler and camp fire cozy way ahead as you read.

The Most Important thing - Weight:

THE one biggest friend and enemy of yours while travelling on a motorcycle no matter what engine capacity you are roaring on, is the weight. The weight of the motorcycle, the weight of your luggage, the weight of fuel, extra jerry cans and not to forget the weight of yourself, as it is all that is going to get loaded up on that chassis which is sitting on two wheel's and hoping on a really good suspension setting and if not, you might have already or you will be experiencing life most hardest spanking that your ancestor's will feel through out the spinal cord.

Pack light: The most common mistake I have seen newbies and even experience rider's is they pack a punch along with their heavy ass motorcycle's and rolling down the highway looking all badass but deep within that tinted visor down helmet they are crying their heart out as they are continuously struggling with the weight they and the bike constantly need to manage. Pack only what is dead ass necessary and pack a little bit more there after which has the essential things that might keep you alive in the wilderness or somewhere you went too adventurous and now can't get back to civilization, that extra packing will definitely get you back alive not soon but soon enough if you are in such a situation.

Even if the trip stretches out from the weekend usual or a long haul of your choice, pack accordingly but still leave some space that you can fit in more along the way and leaving a bit of wiggle room just for the sake of it. Many of us out there pack too much then required, its like hogging down a shopping aisle with everything at 90% discount! No! No! No! a Big ass no, pack things you can carry along easily on the bike and off the bike, no need to pack a fashion fiesta for the trip as its a luxury which will be for sure spoiled with a bad, very bad, helmet hair after you get off to relax your saddle soar.

Weight Management: Such as yourself, your motorcycle can and will carry so much they are intended too, read the manual if you are not sure of how much each segment of your bike chassis can stress out too. Weight is something that has a lot to do with inertia, more the weight - more the inertia will act on it & there is no stopping it, its nature - you wont be able to do shit once its in action, so, there are are typically 7 points where you can saddle up your luggage on your motorcycle and these apply even to chopper's and bobbers and cruiser and other likes of us out there:

                                1) The extreme front of the bike.

                                2) The Tank of the bike.

                                3) The front sides of the bike. (specially adv's)

                                4) The Rear sides of the bike. (RL & RR Panniers)

                                5)The Tail Bag / Tail Top Box. 

(Depends if you have a passenger or not, this could be added +1 space or -1 Space on Tail bag respectively.)

So, this is a basic setup which I personally use too. You have this 5 main lock up points and total of 7 points individually where you can saddle your luggage. I will tell you how I do it so you can continue to inspire yourself the way you want to do it either way it will fall on this 5 major points on the bike.

I Personally load my spare mechanical sets and extra fuses and a small med kit on point (1), which typically sit's right below the main headlight and just above the front wheel fender, reason, its best accessible in time of need and I picked up this habit up from other chopper rider's out there.

I load my documental essential such as paper works and mobile phone, charging dock, power banks and wires, few loose cash, credit card, insurance and other stuff which might need a frequent usage along the journey and feed it to a magnetic tank bag which is easily detachable on Point (2), The items in the bag should be figured out depending upon the type of journey you are embarking upon, some journey's do require passports, identity proofs which could be very handy in this part of the bike load area.

Now Point (3), could be only for adv(adventure) bikes and riders out there and cannot typically imply on cruiser's and chopper's until a ugly retro fit as this particular part would shift to sissy bars on cruiser's and chopper's, which we will talk ahead, but is essentially a factory fitted or factory available mod for adv riders where they can either retro fit jerry can's, water jugs, survival or med pouches and etc, again depending upon the nature of the journey and rider needs this load area of the bike is different for all forms of rider's and their needs.

Point (4), This particular part is my least favorite, specially PANNIER'S, OOOOOOOHHH! everyone does give you looks with this installed on your bike, big daddy vibes, professional cross country rider image but it has it own drawbacks and list is long on it, wont alienate you on same but as we discussed earlier - WEIGHT! The pannier's setup, no matter what earthly metal's its made from, either aluminum, steel, hardend plastic's, metal, sheet metal, all of these kind's add lot of weight to your bike rear end without the actual load filled in it and once loaded up from 20, 25,35litres its pure dead weight twerking behind your bike along the whole journey and end up stressing out your rear suspensions, tires, sprockets, chassis weld's and eventually the rims of the tires. Now this is a debatable point amongst all biker's such as all of us but a respectable one, its my personal choice and logic that it doesn't fit to my riding but I suggest until and unless you are not traveling long long long long trip or you have not sold all what you own and set out to explore the world until then you don't need the hard box panniers, plus it cost a shit ton of money, even if you have that kind of money, try opting out of it and instead go in for all weather saddle bags, there are plug and play or strap and stay method fitters, they are light on bike and on your pockets and they are flexible enough to jiggle few of your top secret goodies you want to carry around and plus you can improvise with straps and zips across the whole setup to even carry a whole tent system or other luggage such as a duffle bag or even a camel water pouch. Chose wisely and will make a point on this in whole other blog for you guys!

Last but not the least Point (5), Tail bags or top box, now its the go to go setup from choppers, cruisers and tourers where you can simply slap a tail bag or a golf bag on a long sissy bar on the rear seat and it shall cover 80% of your luggage need if you are riding alone or if you are having someone with you on the journey then install a Rear Top Box to easily fit in the extra luggage of your plus one or share the same space of 15 to 30litres or install it for days you don't want to carry your helmet around on your shoulders or in hand and stay free on the arrived destination.

All these points can be adjusted according to your need but always keep in mind to keep equal weights across the motorcycle, specially on the rear side and either sides of the motorcycles, keep this thumb rule in mind:

        "Too much weight on back = Loose front end = Loss of stopping power = Less Grip, 

        Too much weight on either side of bike = Unequal weight distribution = longer corners = bike will pull on more weighted side" 

this shall help you ease on your packing of the bike overall. but be mindful.

That's all there is to keep in mind while riding, a billion dollar question with not much of rocket science to apply, its all balancing the weights out and counter balancing the ones that are off and your bike's physics will do the rest.

What are you waiting for, get packing for that weekend camping ride or the long haul you have been planning since ages! Its the best weather to be there...

While you are saddling up, will leave you to it till I meet you all again in the next one.

Ride safe! Ride hard! God Speed! 

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