Pothead Bawa
The Never-Ending Road Trip: A High Journey with Friends
Life’s most important moments often happen in the silence between breaths. That’s what I realized after smoking three joints and a chillum one evening. Sitting there, lost in thought, it struck me how empty life would be without friends. Friendships have a unique fragrance, an aroma that fills the air with a sense of belonging and adventure. So, when my friends asked if I was up for a road trip from Chandigarh to Manali and then to Srinagar, my answer was a resounding yes. Thus began our unforgettable journey.
We borrowed Teja Bhai’s Thar and set off on our trip. By the time we left, it was already 9 PM. Somehow, in the chaos of rolling joints and puffing away, time slipped through our fingers. Midnight found us still in Chandigarh. Finally, Teja got behind the wheel and started the car, guiding us towards the highway. The plan was to reach Manali, but plans are meant to be broken, especially on trips like these.
By 4 AM, we had only managed to reach Sundernagar. Our stash was running low, and without weed, Teja refused to drive further. “Life is on the way when you’re high; otherwise, there’s nothing to do but relax,” he often said. That’s when Chote, our friend with an exceptional nose for weed, caught a familiar scent in the air. We all sniffed, confirming the presence of someone smoking nearby.
Following the trail, we found an old man, the source of the delightful aroma. He told us about Chacha, a local supplier. The word “Chacha” echoed in unison as we expressed our collective relief and excitement.
With a renewed supply of weed, we resumed our journey and finally reached Manali. Here, under the starry sky, we smoked some more. Teja and I decided to play with a local dog, pretending to be lions roaring in the mountains. Amidst our antics, Sahib joined us, carrying a large handkerchief, known as a “puncho,” and a box of sugar brownies. These special treats, known as “sugar brownie chicks,” were exactly what we needed to elevate our high to a whole new level.
As we ventured deeper into Manali, our destination seemed less significant compared to the journey itself. Every twist and turn in the road brought new adventures. We made a pit stop at a small, roadside dhaba. The owner, an old lady with a warm smile, served us hot parathas and chai. The food tasted divine, perhaps enhanced by our high, but it was the stories she shared that made the stop memorable. Tales of old travelers, mystical encounters, and the magic of the mountains added a layer of enchantment to our trip.
Back on the road, we sang along to old Bollywood songs, our voices blending with the hum of the engine and the rustle of the wind. The Thar, sturdy and reliable, navigated through the winding roads with ease. It felt like the vehicle was as much a part of our journey as we were, sharing in our laughter and carrying the weight of our collective memories.
The next day, we crossed Rohtang Pass, its breathtaking beauty leaving us in awe. Snow-capped peaks kissed the sky, and the crisp, cold air filled our lungs with a sense of invigoration. It was here, amidst the serene white landscape, that we met a group of travelers from Spain. They shared their stories, and we shared ours, bonding over the universal language of weed and wanderlust.
Our final destination was Srinagar, but the journey was anything but linear. We took countless detours, each leading to unexpected adventures. One evening, we found ourselves in a secluded village. The villagers welcomed us with open arms, offering us traditional Kashmiri kehwa and a place to rest. Around a bonfire, we shared stories and laughter, feeling a deep connection with these strangers who seemed like old friends.
On the road again, we encountered a mystical fog that enveloped us, turning the landscape into a surreal painting. In that moment, reality and illusion blurred, making us question if we were still on Earth or had transcended into another realm. It was both eerie and exhilarating, a reminder of the unpredictable nature of life.
As we neared Srinagar, our trip’s final leg, we realized the journey had changed us. We were no longer the same people who had set out from Chandigarh. The road had become a part of us, and we had become a part of the road. The high moments, both literal and metaphorical, had carved memories into our souls.
Our road trip wasn’t just about reaching a destination; it was about the stories we created, the friendships we strengthened, and the endless laughter that echoed through the valleys. It was about living in the moment, embracing the unknown, and finding joy in the simple act of being together
In the end, we returned to Chandigarh with hearts full of gratitude and minds brimming with stories. Each puff of weed, each mile traveled, and each laugh shared had woven a tapestry of memories that we would cherish forever. This was the essence of our never-ending road trip, a journey that would live on in our hearts long after the high had faded.
