Four brusque and young people on six wheels Fand stuffed back packs (with the gusto to fluster the deep siesta of the inert neighborhoods) just off the National Highway numbered 37, may be a peccadillo which simmering blooded readers like you may wink at and overlook on purpose. Not that we are fond of generating a rumpus every day-even before the most energetic rooster of the block sings a rock-a-doodle-do. But when there was a mission to be accomplished, say, a self-established operation of covering a distance of 175 odd kilometers, arrive at a certain place, explore it, and then again ride back home, even the rooster alarm could be skipped without a pinch of guilt. And that we did on a fine arctic misty morning of January this year.

Basu, Neha, Sunny and I were the chosen ones to rove & roll on our mean thunderbirds on a lifetime journey to the wonderful place named Digboi, situated almost on the edge of the frame of Assam. The term 'visibility range' appeared to be ambiguous as we could see nothing but undescribed circumference of white fog besieging everything around us. The zealous fog wouldn't go and we still needed to keep the headlights on. An absolute expedition, it was turning out to be, for the haziness added the sheer sensation of thrill and joy while the tyres rolled on through the moist & mushy tarred road. We had set off from Jorhat town earlier than the earliest morning which occurred to be a terrible idea soon slowing down the speedometers to less than even 50km/hour. The highway looked just like a neverending serpent ready and so eager to wolf down the four of us together. The term 'visibility range' appeared to be ambiguous as we could see nothing but undescribed circumference of white fog besieging everything around us.

Advice number one, don't forget to put on hand gloves if you are expecting to ride a bike on an icy early daylight which Basu did unpremeditatedly and started regretting as soon as the foggy stream of razor-sharp air ran through his bare skin straight into his blood. Neha wanted to substitute him as the temporary pilot till the sun would come out and make us warm, but Basu accepted the challenge of facing the eerie wind than risking something like letting his cherished 350 cc monster into the hands of an amateur young woman.

My IPod loaded with Mark Knopfler helped to cut the tribulation to an extent. After we had covered nearly 40-50 kms, we could see an enchanting spectacle of an ocean full of soft light waves overwhelming the surroundings in a magical fashion. But the zealous fog wouldn't go and we still needed to keep the headlights on. An absolute expedition, it was turning out to be, for the haziness added the sheer sensation of thrill and joy while the tyres rolled on through the moist & mushy tarred road.

In a state like Assam filled with the blissful harmony of Mother Nature, the winters are normally mysterious. There would be a drizzle today and tomorrow there would be unsullied sunshine which would be followed by a blanket of impenetrable fog starting from midnight till 7 AM. Our Itinerary said we needed to pass through the horizontal district of Sivsagar by 6 AM and reach Dibrugarh town in an hour. On the contrary, the clock marked 7.30 when we entered the Dibrugarh town. The pangs of morning hunger and the search for a good food joint to relieve ourselves was just equivalent to looking for a water bottle in the Sahara desert! They didn't sell the same quality Chhole bhaturas as it is done in Delhi and Punjab, but hold on; they had something tastier to offer- Paranthas stir fried on hot oil that took a puffy appearance, served with a mixed vegetable dish containing peas, potatoes, tomatoes, a lot of spice and curd.

8 AM- all stuffed with breakfast and 75 kilometers to go! Of course it would be a sin to take more than one hour to cover this length given that we were in possession of such heavy engines and such a wonderful highway lay further on. But from Dibrugarh to Tinsukia, the road just started cheating us here and there with sudden potholes and exhausted tar work. The growing traffic of routine tempos, three wheelers and heavy vehicles made it tricky for us to reach the Tinsukia town. It took us a while before we could leave highway 37 and budge to 38 to turn towards our original destination Digboi.

Assam's first oil city with a history going back to the early 18th century was only 28 kms away. The town that boasts of the oldest Oil Refinery in the entire Asian continent surprised us in the most beautiful way. It was bigger, better, smoother like the Spanish butter and we began to love the ride. This was such a thrill; we had little time to observe the picturesque surroundings including fields, tea gardens and people. A railway track ran just parallel to our road till we arrived at the hotspot.

A town more than hundred year old and still so gracious proved to be the most accurate place to hang around for the next seven hours. We opened the innings by visiting the most heard about place- the centenary Museum. It gave us all the data we needed to know about the township, the Refining industry, its history and heritage. This place has been producing and supplying Oil since 1890, has survived two world wars, colonialism, the Indian Freedom movement and many other things, still standing in all its glory.

One big benefit of taking a two wheeler on a journey is that, there is no need to hunt for paid taxis or vehicles. Roaming around uselessly for an hour gave us the wisdom and concept of the town and its people. Well planned, well decorated and well maintained are the three adjectives it would always bear.

The war cemetery built to honor the dead soldiers during the world wars, the war bunkers and the golf course (the largest in the upper Assam) gave us the delightful feeling about a group of white people for their taste in fabulous architecture, planning and lifestyle! We had a little difficulty in finding our lunch as the town has very less number of food joints that can offer varieties and taste at the same time.

Advice number 2- always pack light & readymade lunch if you are not sure enough.

The second phase made us cover the Centenary tourist park built upon and around a small lake very cleverly and in a stunning manner. Boating on the lake was a memory we would cherish for a long time. But it also delayed us to finish a very crucial task. Till the time we reached the Giant, highly equipped Oil Refinery gates, the visiting hours were over. For high security reasons, the gentle guards didn't let us in after repetitive petitions.

Advice number 3- if you intend to visit this majestic town anytime, don't be bewildered by its other monuments and super scenic beauty. First, one should procure a written permission from the officials to visit the Refinery area. The other places are open and could be visited anytime except the Oil fields and the refining corners.

Twilight hours and we were back on our bikesoverwhelmed, satisfied and a little sad at the sametime. As the grip of our gloves tried to do a full throttle on the silky road, something inside didn't let us to do so. It was an unknown feeling, the sense of falling in love at the first sight with a person, or rather with a place to be accurate!!!