Love For Yamaha

Bikes have always held a special place. Even for those who do not ride there is something about a motorcycle that stirs curiosity and admiration. The sound, the stance or the way a machine feels alive even when standing in idle. For some it is transport and for others it is memory, identity or emotion. For me bikes were never just machines during my childhood. They were dreams parked on roadsides, posters on bedroom walls and a factor that shaped childhood.

My love for Yamaha began in 2009. I did not ride one then. I only looked at the R1. That single bike was enough. As a child I did not understand engine configurations or spec sheets but I understood road presence. The R1 did not just look fast it looked sharp and unapologetic. That was the moment something settled inside. Seventeen years later that feeling has not changed.

The first bike I truly owned was the RX100 in 2018. It was raw, loud and light. Every throttle input, every vibration and every sound felt connected back then. It taught me what a motorcycle could feel like. Later came the R15 V3 in same year. That bike felt special in a different way. It looked like a proper sport machine yet welcomed everyday riding. Precision, Balance, VVA technology or the way it held corners and responded to inputs made it feel like a bike that wanted to be ridden well. It was not just about speed but about connection.

Today I no longer own a Yamaha. I ride a Royal Enfield now. It suits a different phase of life a different rhythm of riding. Yet the love for Yamaha never left. That says something. Brands come and go from garages but only a few stay in the heart.

Yamaha as a brand has always stood for something clear. They do not go behind trends blindly. They build machines with intent. Their engines are refined yet aggressive. Their bikes are known for rider focused engineering. Yamaha machines often feel lighter than they are, sharper than expected and eager in character. Whether it is a commuter, a sport bike or an adventure machine, there is always a sense that the rider was considered first.

Even today if asked to dream the answer remains the same. One day an R1. If the question is adventure the answer is still Yamaha. The Tenere would be my choice without hesitation. That speaks volumes. It is not nostalgia alone but a trust. Trust built over years of watching, riding, owning and admiring a yamaha.

This love comes from the inner child who once stared at a bike more than he ever looked at his books. The child who believed machines could have a soul. That child still exists. He still slows down when a Yamaha passes by. He still listens to the engine note. He still smiles.

Bikes change. Garages change. Life changes. But the love for yamaha does not.

Some choices are made early and never really change. What was yours? 

E20 Fuel Explained: What you need to know

India is rolling out E20 fuel, which is 20% ethanol blended with petrol as part of a push for cleaner energy and energy security. Ethanol is made from crops like sugarcane maize and surplus grains. It is renewable burns cleaner and supports local farmers while reducing oil imports. The aim is to cut emissions boost rural incomes and move towards more sustainable fuel.

Technically ethanol has a higher octane rating than petrol so it resists knocking and can help high compression engines run smoother. But it also carries less energy per litre so fuel efficiency may drop slightly. Ethanol absorbs water from the air and acts like a solvent which can corrode or damage fuel system parts if the vehicle is not designed for it. That is why compatibility matters.

Let us get into some common questions that might come to your mind as a driver or rider.

Can I use E20 in my vehicle?
If your vehicle is labeled E20 compatible you are good to go. Many models after 2023 onward are built for it. But Older vehicles may have rubber hoses seals or fuel components that are not ethanol resistant so checking the manual or asking a technician is wise.

Will mileage suffer or fuel parts degrade?
Ethanol has lower energy per litre than petrol, so expect a small drop in mileage usually around 1-6% percent depending on engine type tuning and vehicle weight. Ethanol also dissolves residues and attracts moisture which can loosen deposits or degrade parts over time. Newer vehicles usually handle this well as long as regular maintenance is done.

Does it avoid warranty or affect insurance?
Using an unapproved fuel can lead to warranty issues or insurance claim denial if damage is found to be linked to wrong fuel. To be safe follow your owner manual and use E20 only if your vehicle is designed for it.

Will performance be better or worse?
Ethanol has a higher octane rating so modern vehicles with fuel injection turbochargers or high compression engines may see smoother throttle response. Older or simpler carbureted systems may not benefit and could lose efficiency.

Are cold starts a concern?
In most of India cold starts are not affected by E20. Only in freezing climates might starting be more difficult because ethanol vaporizes differently. For most users this will not matter.

What about storage if the vehicle is parked for long?
Ethanol blends can separate from petrol and absorb water when vehicles sit unused. To avoid issues keep the tank nearly full and drive regularly. Check filters fuel lines and seals more often during early transition.

Can older vehicles be retrofitted for E20?
Some manufacturers are exploring retrofit options but they are limited and model specific. Generic “ethanol safe” parts may not be reliable. The cost benefit may not justify the risk unless it is an official kit.

Is premium 100 octane a good alternative?
Yes it contains no ethanol and avoids the blend related risks. It may make sense for infrequently used vehicles or performance classic machines, but its cost can make it impractical for daily mainstream use.

Should I accept or resist E20?
If your vehicle is compatible, continue using it while monitoring efficiency and fuel system health. If your vehicle is older or you are unsure stay cautious look for alternatives and ask the manufacturer. The shift to E20 is driven by national policy and with time vehicle users feedback and experience will help manufacturers enhance compatibility and updates.

E20 fuel brings environmental and economic benefits when used wisely. Stay informed maintain your vehicle and share your experience so the automotive community and manufacturers build better solutions together.

Part 4: Gone Before I Could Say Goodbye

The sun had already risen by the time the other friend woke up, and together we walked down to the small market for a cup of morning tea before returning to the hut. The warmth of the tea in my hands and the air felt fresh, yet my mind kept going back to the night before and the hours I had spent talking to her under the stars.

After a while I decided to go for a short walk. A dog I had never seen before began to follow me, walking ahead as though it knew the way and then circling back to sit beside me for no reason. We eventually settled on the rocks by the river, both of us staring at the calm water that reflected the morning light. There was nothing to do but sit there, cherishing the company of the dog and the place, and letting my thoughts wander to the conversations that we had through the night.

The friends joined me after some time and we sat together for a while before the water activities began for the day. I wanted to try kayaking and asked if they would come, but they told me they had already done it the previous day and would wait for me before leaving, as they had plans for another destination. I agreed and walked over to the counter where they charged me 600rs and gave me a life jacket.

A man with a bright green kayak was waiting by the water. He asked if I knew how to kayak and when I said no, he told me to get in and gave me a few simple instructions from the shore. My first few paddles were clumsy and the kayak swayed, but soon I found the rhythm and it began to glide across the water. The sound of the paddle cutting through the river, the gentle sway of the boat and the way the light shimmered on the surface made the whole moment feel almost unreal. The river stretched open and quiet ahead of me and for a while I felt as though I was floating through a dream, one of those rare experiences that stays on your memory forever.

When I returned I walked back towards the hut expecting to find them relaxed, but instead they were moving quickly, packing their things as if they were late for something. I asked what the rush was but received no real answer, only that the guy had suddenly decided to leave for the next place and so she was leaving too. Before they went I asked her for the number of a guide she knew in Cherrapunji so that I could arrange my travel there and she gave it to me.

I still did not understand why they were leaving in such a hurry, but I told them I would quickly change out of my wet clothes and join them for at least part of the way, even though my route was different. I stepped into the tent to change, and in the middle of it there was a knock.

Her voice came from outside, “We are leaving Saru. Bye bye.”

I called out, but by the time I came out they were already gone. I had not even managed to step forward, to see her face one last time to say a proper goodbye. My bag was still unpacked and my words were still left unsaid. I stood there for a long moment wondering if I had done something wrong, searching for a reason that would make sense of how quickly it had all ended. But some questions are never answered.

The stranger who had stayed with me the entire night, who had shared laughter and a thousand little stories by the river, had left without a wave or a backward glance. The night we shared had turned into a memory in an instant. It was no longer something I could touch or live again, yet it stayed somewhere very deep.

Some people come into your life unexpectedly,  share a moment that changes you and leave before you can even say goodbye. All I could do was hold on to the memory of her voice, picture of her in my mind and a hope that our paths might cross again someday.

I began packing my own things. I was left with questions that would never find answers and the memory of a night, a night that would stay with me for a Very long time. 

With that thought, I set out to the next place letting the journey continue...

Peace

Part 3: The Stranger Who Stayed Behind

By the time the rain slowed down and the storm began to pass, one of the friends said he wanted to sleep and the other agreed and they both got ready to rest. They asked me to join but I said no it is okay I can manage outside and that they should sleep inside the tent. I thought I would be left alone with the dark and the river for company, but instead she stayed back. The stranger who had helped me move my soaked world to safety was now refusing to go.

I assumed she would go too, but she looked at me and said, "If you are not sleeping then I am not sleeping either". There was no hesitation in her voice. It was not a question or an offer. It was a decision. She sat beside me, with a pack of cigarette and a warm smile, her voice carrying a calmness that felt warmer than any blanket could. I told her more than once that she could go inside, that it was getting colder, but she kept smiling and saying no. She wanted to stay.

And she did. Not for a few minutes. Not for a few hours. She stayed with me the entire night.

We did not need to break the ice. From the first moment it felt natural, as if we had known each other for a long time. The river flowed beside us, the earth held the scent of rain, but none of it felt like a background we needed. We just spoke. It felt like I was not meeting someone new, but remembering someone I already knew.

She pulled out a cigarette. The wind was playful, it kept putting out the lighter’s flame. She tried again and again and each time the wind blew it out. We laughed every single time and it became a kind of rhythm. She kept on striking the lighter and the wind blowed it out. She began cursing the wind, but always with a grin. It became our inside joke, one that did not need words to be funny.

We spoke about Instagram captions. I teased her for how seriously she had worded her long captions. She laughed and fired back by pulling up mine. We laughed over that too, and it struck me how even something as small as captions could feel like sharing a piece of ourselves. But behind all that jokes was the comfort of being seen without having to explain anything.

What struck me most was how she never made me feel younger. Not once did she speak down to me or remind me of the age difference. Instead she listened with full attention as if everything I said mattered. And I found myself listening too, not out of politeness but because I genuinely wanted to know who she was. Her stories and her thoughts and the little things that made her laugh all felt important.

We changed positions throughout the night. Sometimes we sat on the bench. Sometimes we leaned against the poles of the shed. Once or twice we stood by the river saying nothing just watching the water move. It felt like we were walking slowly through each other’s minds discovering little things.

Then sometime between one moment and the next the sky began to shift. A faint blue crept over the horizon. The outlines of the river and hills became visible. And we both realised that we had spoken through the entire night. The storm had passed. The world had changed again. We were still sitting there. Still talking. Still not done.

When she finally said she might nap for a while she leaned on the bench. But I knew she would not sleep. Her eyes kept opening her smile never faded and she kept looking at me. It felt like we were in some strange dream. As if time had stopped. As if neither of us wanted to blink and miss it.

That night was not about the events or unforgettable stories. It was about a stranger who stayed. A stranger who chose not to sleep not to leave not to make the easy choice. A stranger who turned into something more, someone who reminded me that sometimes the most beautiful moments happen when you least expect them.

I have always valued in person conversations. In a world filled with stories shared through screens and feelings put into captions, that night showed me why I love real conversations. You see someone. You hear them. You laugh without hesitations. You read their silence. You notice how their eyes light up before a story begins, how laughter sometimes comes before the joke is finished. No message typed online can replicate this feeling. That night was proof that some conversations are meant to be felt, not just read.

The sun rose like it always does but that morning it felt slower and softer as if even time itself did not want to interrupt what had begun beneath the stars.

To Be Continued...

Part 2: Facing the Storm

After a well spent day I returned to the tent. The same two people I had seen earlier were sitting beside it and greeted me with a smile as I came back from dinner. There was something pleasant about that night. Maybe it was the breeze across the river or the company. I did not feel ready to end the day. I sat down at the entrance of my tent with legs stretched outside and opened a pack of bourbon. Not the drink but the biscuit, and somehow that small irony felt like a private joke.

Soon we began talking. The three of us shared fragments of our stories like how we had landed up here, where we were headed next and what we left behind back home. The conversations were light. As the hours crept by the other boys nearby returned to their tents and zipped themselves in for the night. But I stayed where I was. 

At some point someone suggested a walk. So the three of us got up grabbed the mobile torch and stepped onto the suspension bridge. It was already past 10.30pm and the wind was brushing past our faces. The bridge swayed gently with every gust. The river thundered beneath the bridge, a force that could be heard clearly but never fully seen. We stopped midway and looked around. The view from the top was Mesmerizing. Could see the entire Shnongpdeng with lights.

Eventually we turned back towards the tent and stayed outside reluctant to let go of the night. And just like that the sky opened with a few rain drops that told us what was coming. We exchanged quick goodbyes and rushed into our tents. I zipped the flap closed and tried to convince myself it would pass. Someone had told me once that in Meghalaya the rain does not knock politely. It simply arrives and takes over everything.

I lay back scrolling through messages, posting stories as the weather turned fierce outside. The walls of the tent started to tremble. I sat up unsure whether this was just a passing thing or something worse. The downpour turned fierce within minutes. Water started to seep through the corners and collect in shallow pools inside the tent. The sides of the tent flapped so hard I thought they might rip. I tried to weigh them down with my bag, boots and my own body but nothing held. Every gust lifted the thin walls off the ground. For the first time in the trip I felt genuine fear.

Outside I could hear chaos, Shouts, Footsteps of People running. l imagined people evacuating, grabbing their belongings, abandoning the riverbank. I held on to the corners of the tent and tried to stay calm, but the water was creeping in fast. My clothes were soaked. My things were wet. There was no space left untouched by water. I sent a few messages to friends letting them know where I was and added simply that I was not sure if I would make it through the night.

After what felt like an hour the wind began to ease. The rain softened and I unzipped the flap and looked outside. The place looked like a battlefield. Some tents had collapsed and the others were blown several feet away. I stepped out and called to the people in the next tents. Are you alright, are you alive, in a funny note. They called back with a laugh and said yes, they were fine. I told them I was too. Even if everything I owned was drenched, it somehow felt like an achievement to be able to be there and say it.

I went back inside and sat for a moment, thinking maybe I could still stay. But the floor was soaked and it was freezing cold. What followed after that is a different part of the night.

To be continued...

Part 1: Finding Peace in Shnongpdeng

 

April 5 2025

It was the first day of my trip to Meghalaya and everything felt like it was going just right. The day began on a peaceful note with visits to a few waterfalls. My initial plan was to stay in Dawki for the night but a few conversations with locals gently nudged me towards a quieter alternative. A place called Shnongpdeng. They said it had stays right on the river and water activities like kayaking and cliff jumping and most importantly it was less crowded and largely underrated which only made me more curious and excited.

I reached Shnongpdeng around five or five thirty in the evening and at the checkpost I managed to get a few contact numbers of people who helped with stays. One quick call and I had a tent waiting for me near the river. The person on the call sounded genuinely excited to host me and once he heard I had come all the way from Kanyakumari he seemed even more thrilled. He said the stay would cost a thousand rupees for the night and I agreed without a second thought.

From the parking spot on top of the river I had to walk down a narrow path to reach the tents. I hesitated for a moment thinking about the safety of my bike but the people there assured me they would be around and that my vehicle would be safe. I trusted their confidence and walked down with them as they showed me the tents. We were halfway across other tents when a group of boys called out to us asking if we remembered them. I paused and realised they were the same group I had met earlier that day at one of the waterfalls. They insisted that the tent guy place me next to theirs so they could keep me company. That gesture felt oddly comforting in a new land.

I settled down and after a while they shared some bread they had brought along and we sat chatting for a while. They were students on a break exploring the region during their vacation. It is always fascinating when strangers choose to be kind. Took a walk and sat next to a dog for a while lost in the sound and the beauty of the place, and then returned to my tent where the boys invited me to join them for dinner. I said yes.

Before heading out I needed to charge my phone and send a message back home just to let them know I was safe. I found a power outlet next to the tent on my right and I saw a man and a woman sitting there. I assumed they were a couple and politely asked the woman if I could plug in my phone. She smiled and said yes. I placed my phone to charge and soon enough a conversation started between us and found out they were friends from Mumbai. I told them where I was from what I did and they shared a few things in return. Then I stepped out for a short walk by the river, to admire the alluring beauty or the river with setting sun. When I came back the phone had charged enough and it was now time to join the boys for dinner.

Before I left I asked the friends if they wanted to join us. They laughed and said they were going to open a beer and relax and asked if I would like to join. I smiled and said No, I had to ride the next day and politely declined. Then I walked off with the boys towards a small shack where food was being served. The meal was simple but fulfilling. A plate of rice some good chicken and a few more dishes that made the evening warm and homely. We ate and spoke and laughed for a while, and then I said goodbye as they planned to go up to the local market to explore a bit more. I decided to head back to my tent instead.

The river was glowing and the lights across the banks flickered as if the night itself was in no hurry to sleep, and I sat there for a while thinking the day had ended in the best way it could with new faces soft conversations and the comfort of water beside me. But just when I thought the day was over, the night turned and so did everything else.

To be continued...