Honeymoon Horrors

Let’s face it.

My honeymoon wasn’t exactly special. It was horripilating. No, I didn’t just make that word up. Don’t believe me?

Now that I’ve taught you a thing or two about a language that’s not even my own, I’ll tell you what went wrong on our honeymoon.

The answer to the question is: every fucking thing.

First, people on the road clearly did not share our enthusiasm about being recently married. We stopped at Panchkula for fuel and our bike stopped too.

Second, my back stabbed a knife in itself and made me ask Mister to stop for the night in Shimla, a town I abhor. And our bike stopped when we tried to leave.

Third, I nearly fell off the bike as we rode to Chindi. Several times. And guess what, our fucking bike stopped.

Then, we went to Tirthan valley. This time the bike remained okay, but I brought something back with me, something I’ve not yet written about.

Our last stop was Manali. I can’t remember what happened there, but I’m pretty sure it involved me wanting to claw eyes off a particular stranger.

Or was that on the non-stop 15 hour ride back to Delhi?

I forget.

But you get the point!



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