Tour de Bengal Day 1

Preparing for the Event

Okay. Alarm went off at 2:30 a.m. — I and Barath woke up and started getting ready. Everything charged, all set, good to go. The main checklist items to avoid penalties: both front and rear lights, phone, and my Realme Wireless 3 headphones (a must for keeping the rhythm).

Sleep was awful, but we knew we had to survive this stage somehow. Called Mithun da, and ate bread, peanut butter, sweets, and bananas. By 3:50 a.m., we were ready to roll toward the starting point.

Then came the first issue — my saddle was wobbling. It wasn’t from the seat post; the saddle nut itself was loose. I couldn’t fix it then, so decided to handle it at the start point. We rode out in pitch darkness — even with my 800-lumen light, the roads were barely visible. Broken roads, potholes filled with water, chaos.

Mithun da went ahead, then stopped — he didn’t know the route. The only one who did was me. So I took charge and guided everyone, battling through the dark roads in Zone 4, carrying a heavy backpack.

The Starting Point

This season’s start point was a bit complicated but chosen strategically to avoid traffic blocks for the first two hours. It was at KWIC Road, Salap, Howrah.

I did my bike check, signed in, filled water bottles, and got quick help from Sunny da from Dream Bike, the official mechanic — he instantly fixed my saddle. Legend.

Met a ton of familiar faces from Season 1, plus many new ones — 49 racers this time. My ex-teammate Sun showed up too, now representing another team. Respect to him for joining in. The atmosphere was electric. I chatted with almost everyone I knew; old memories revived fast. Before we knew it, it was go-time.

The Start

The race was flagged off at 5:10 a.m. due to some official delay. As soon as the whistle blew, everyone blasted off like rockets. Within two minutes, I was the last rider. The club car behind told me to move and drove off. Fine by me — I had my tactics: take down one rider at a time, but don’t burn out early.

My teammate had already started strong, thinking I was leading. Four bridges crossed with minimal effort, but I was already in Zone 3. So much for the plan. Still, I was happy — 84 RPM cadence! That’s a first for me. Seven indoor sessions had paid off. This proved training works. I promised myself: next season, I’ll come back stronger.

Season 1 average cadence: 64 RPM.

Goal this time: stay above 75 RPM.

If I manage that, it’s a win.

Just when I was vibing to this thought… suddenly —

An Accident Ahead

A rider crashed right in front of me. The Dankuni–Delhi road connector is an accident magnet, and he hit one. Luckily, it wasn’t major — his helmet saved him. (Seriously, always invest in a good helmet. It’s worth more than any bike upgrade. Life > money.)

Barath was already signaling traffic to divert. After five minutes, once we made sure the rider and his bike were safe, we continued.

Never Felt Fresher

The Delhi Expressway — man, smooth like butter. Freshly built, wide, no traffic. We started overtaking riders one by one. (No, not elimination — just catching up.)

Hit Palsit Toll Plaza at 25 km/h and 85 RPM. Dream effort, still in Zone 3. Felt unreal. Only issue: my chain dropped twice while shifting to the smaller ring — manageable.

Then it happened.

The Tragic

One bridge after Palsit, I shifted gears and heard a weird clunk. I thought it came from somewhere else — had music in one ear, so couldn’t tell. By the time I passed Saktigarh, the bike felt heavier for the same cadence. Something was off.

Barath noticed first: “Bro, your wheel’s wobbling.”

OMG. One spoke broke. Panic mode. I was ready for punctures, hand numbness, even saddle soreness — but not this. Totally out of syllabus.

Path of Hope

From there, I started riding slowly, avoiding bridges, hoping to find a cycle shop. Both the organizer’s car and club car had already gone ahead toward Bankura. I called Judhajit (race director) for help. He said to repair it but warned, “Time won’t stop.”

Cool. So I started searching for a shop. Every passerby kept saying, “Kichuta aage.” (A little ahead.) That “little” turned into 7 km. Apparently, 1 km means anything in Bardhaman.

Untouchability

Bardhaman has plenty of cycle shops — but none wanted to help. The first shop rejected me without even listening. “Go ahead,” they said. Same story at the next one.

When I asked why, they said, “We can’t open the wheel.”

I offered to do it myself. Still no.

Then they said they couldn’t open the tire. Again, I said I’d handle it. Still no.

I asked for a spoke wrench, they refused. Told me to move on. So I kept walking, cleats clicking on the road (and trust me, walking in cleats is a punishment). After a kilometer, pure frustration kicked in.

Finally, I contacted Judhajit again. He said Sunny da would fix it at the endpoint. That gave me some peace. I left Bardhaman with a still-wobbly wheel and a pile of bad memories.

Condition Worsened

The road from Bardhaman to Bankura was wrecked — too many speed breakers. Riding like this made things worse.

Barath decided to continue on his own to finish on time. I told him to go — no point both of us suffering. His back was already hurting.

I crawled forward for 18 km until I met Souvik da, who handed me a spoke wrench. “Fix it later, give it back at the end,” he said.

I tried, but I’m not that pro. Another rider, Saikat, stopped and fixed it in five minutes — what would’ve taken me an hour. Legend.

By then, my cervical spine pain kicked in — a new kind of pain. Great.

Realisation

Started riding again, one spoke short but functional. HR still in Zone 4, cadence dropped to 79 RPM, speed around 21 km/h. The cutoff time had already passed.

I followed every turn from memory — just two left. People gathered at fuel pumps and shops, curious. “What’s going on?” they asked. Some were inspired, others suggested shortcuts.

I refused. “Cheating leads to penalties. I’ll stick to the official route.”

Motivation was fading fast. Zone 4 heart rate was draining me even though I was eating gels, bars, electrolytes, and cold drinks. I shot a quick ‘Realisation’ video — only 13 km left. Needed that mental push.

Finally, after what felt like forever, I reached the Gateway of Bishnupur — the Stage 1 finish line — at 3:58 p.m.

Another Disappointment

Even though I missed the cutoff and was in pain, I asked for help from the club car to carry me and my bike to the hostel — but they refused. Not surprised.

A traffic police officer helped me look for a toto, and when I saw the hostel was only 2 km away, I decided to ride there myself. No saddle sore, no hand numbness — just a stiff neck and heavy legs. Somehow, I made it to Bishnupur Youth Hostel.

Third Teammate Arrived

Shirshayan showed up with his family after finishing his math exam — full of energy. We went out for lunch. I called Barath; he said he had a puncture but fixed it and was on his way.

It was his longest ride ever. He reached while I was eating at Aami Bangali Restaurant — a grand chicken thali that felt like heaven. Carbs were back in charge.

Second Teammate Arrived

When we returned to the hostel, Barath had just arrived and was freshening up. He’d made a bunch of new friends on the road — that’s the magic of these rides. Even language barriers melt away when you share the grind.

He later went out for biryani with his new buddies. Classic.

Upcoming Stage 2 Prep

Back at the hotel, I freshened up, started charging devices, and analyzed the day’s data. The good news — no pain like TdB Season 1. Stage 2 was 111 km with a 6-hour cutoff. Easy peasy.

Sunny da was already repairing my wheel — massive relief.

At 8 p.m., we went out for dinner and grabbed supplies for tomorrow’s breakfast. Again, Aami Bangali Restaurant — roti and kadhai chicken, followed by rasogolla and a local banana called chapa kola (heard of it for the first time — varieties like kathali, singapuri, martaman). Bought half a dozen for morning fuel.

Back at the hotel by 10 p.m., Barath joined soon after. By 10:30 p.m., lights out.

Stage 2 awaited.

New day, new challenge.

Stay tuned.