Pushkar wasn’t even supposed to be on our itinerary. It was one of those arbit things that just happened, well, Arbit! “Cutlet” had made grandiose plans of riding through the Punjab and on one drunken night at my then shack in Vashi, I ended up signing up for the ride. A late start (and Cutlets pea-sized bladder) meant that we only managed to reach Himmatnagar at the end of day one instead of Udaipur as we had originally planned. And throughout the day (and night), I had to listen to Cutlets incessant yapping about Pushkar, his latest obsession. Apparently he had been hearing a lot of good things about Pushkar from his equally retarded club fellas. So that’s how Pushkar became our halt for the second night.
Taking the 2-laned, but far more scenic old NH8 from Udaipur to Ajmer, we had a rocking ride all the way: topped off by a marvelous sutta break at sunset on a hilltop just after Ajmer. Pushkar wasn’t too crowded at this time of the year, and we managed to find a decent accommodation for barely 100 bucks a night: FOR THE BOTH OF US! 
To those in the dark, Pushkar is a pilgrimage place not too far from Delhi and for reasons not yet understood is quite popular in the western tourist circuits! And where the goras go, the bulleteers shall follow! Cutlet was unusually sober through the day. But that changed as soon as he caught sight of 2 Israeli girls staying at the same lodge. The old bulleteer credo of “if its white, it must be available” took over and our man was from that point being led by his penis.
The lodge we stayed in was a very wise choice after all: that evening was spent in the very enjoyable company of a varied bunch of tourists from countries as diverse as Israel and France to Poland and Bulgaria! Cutlet, for all his faults, is an asset to have in groups like these: he sure can roll a mean joint for one! And the horny bugger, keen to impress the chicks, even managed to pull out ze old geetar and rolled out a Sufi-ish rendition of that old favorite, “Gaand Mein Gaanda”! To those retards questioning how this particular song can be “sufi-ised”: well just ask Cutlet to do it at the next Rider Mania! If there is a white chick around, he just might be able to pull it off again!
Anyways, the evening was going very well indeed. I had just gotten to our room to re-stock on “the good stuff” kept in my saddlebag, when I saw Cutlet heading out with his bike keys. After a thoroughly detailed and totally unnecessary explanation on what he planned to do that night with his new buddy, he revealed that he was heading out to the medical store to get, lets say “essentials”. Needless to say, he wasn’t going out for medicines! As I walked up the stairs, I noticed his new buddy was going with him on their ride to the medical store. SCORE!!
Now Pushkar, being a religous pilgrimage place is officially a dry place. So pouring our rum into Coke bottles, we were hanging out in the garden chatting, when all of a sudden 2 police jeeps pulled up. The cops got out and started talking to the lodge staff. Apparently, a couple of foreign tourists had been molested in Pushkar that day or the previous, and they were doing their investigating. All was well, nothing to worry: so far! The distinct sound of the “Shakeel Silencer” reverberating through the otherwise silent night meant that Cutlet was on his way back from the medical store with his new buddy sitting pillion. On seeing the cops from far, he stopped momentarily at the end of the narrow lane. Then, suddenly and inexplicably, whipped the bike around and FLED at full rev! FLED!!!
While I stared with a “What the F***” expression on my face (mirrored on the others as well), some of the cops hopped into one of the jeeps to give chase! I turned my head towards the lodge staff, and saw all of them pointing a finger in my direction in UNISON, as if anticipating the obvious question from the cops remaining on the scene. I spent the next 3 hours at the police station explaining away this stupid situation! The hard-earned buzz was gone! I toned down the biker, and put on my best “Project Manager” act and made up a story about not knowing Cutlet and having met him on the road. My papers all showed Pune while Cutlets papers showed a Mumbai domicile which perhaps helped save my ass. Very fortunately for me, while the cops did a thorough search of my bags, they did not search my personal being. Considering I was carrying the last of the “good stuff” in my pocket, if any of that had been discovered, my life as we knew it would have changed forever!
Fuming at Cutlets strange behavior that had caused so much trouble, I barely got any sleep that night. Waking up tired and grumpy I saw Cutlets text message informing me that he was in, of all places, Rohtak! He asked me to get his luggage and come to Delhi! I didn’t tell him at that point that his luggage had been taken into the custody of the Police and I intended to fully kick his ass when I met him in Delhi.
What could explain Cutlets strange behavior? I guess the guilt of a married man with a strange girl riding pillion and an unopened pack of condoms in his pocket can cloud judgement in ways we cant even begin to imagine! Don’t think he learned a lesson though. Some of you may remember the same Cutlet going out to buy similar stuff on a drunken night in Anjuna (Goa) and returning with some rather questionable “protection” in opened packs bought for 300 bucks a piece!! Thankfully it wasn’t us, but his turn to loose his hard-earned buzz. But that is a story that I will leave for Cutlet to narrate! 
