This is the story of a denim that fought like Achilles and survived during its invasion trail of 5000+ kms across the distant lands. It carried on its ancestor’s legacy of facing boldly the harshest conditions and only got polished and sexier with every passing day.

This is my 2007 GAS denim, made in Tunisia (comm.. 01820000, art. 03-35-0673-34-04-2558 ALBERT RIC., lab. 44-3669).
I bought this wonderful mid-wash denim just before my marriage and yeah it did survive that invasion too. It wasn’t my favorite though and at times got lost in the many shades of blue hanging in my wooden wardrobe…..few months passed and it adorned me just a little more than fewer times. Then began the planning of ‘RIDE TO FREEDOM’ trip….freedom from the monotonous life…life that needed a much needed break….to break free our spirits from the clutches of predictability….and to leave our fate on instincts and not daily plans. A bike trip that was to start from Mumbai and storm to the desolate lands of northern India. The route was planned (not the halts)….music was I-podded (not the moods)…..medicines were packed (not the spirits)…..and clothing was decided (not this denim).

Came the day of rolling out my machine….to gun down the road. I loaded my 500cc Machismo and garbed myself in the pre-decided armor…..but something didn’t feel right. It was the denim I wore that didn’t seem to be in the right mood. So, went for a change and lay my hands on this lady hiding somewhere in the closet. It hugged me well… as if thankful to me….and I could feel the warmth and comfort in it.

550kms was a good long distance for the first day of ride. We reached Ahmedabad under the shadow of stars and dropped like dead-meat, while she lay bundled at one corner of our abode. We wished Sun ‘gud morning’ the next day and got on with cladding ourselves. I set my eyes on her lying in a corner as if vying for my attention…..and she did manage to. I picked her up and held from the waist with her legs dangling in air. And as she unfolded I was sodomized by her mystifying charm. The tan from the last days ride gave her a dusky blue complexion that tickled the indigo running in my blood. Then and there I decided she’ll adorn me for the rest of the ride.

The only time she was off me, was at nights when we both needed a much awaited break from the tiresome rides. Together we rode the highest peaks….roughened roads and ‘not-so’ roads….we braved the chaffed nature….survived snow, landslides and sandstorms….muddled with puddles…. And shared the endless emotions day and everyday. At one point she was stretched beyond her capacity and tore right from the crotch….and her smiling face just drooped like an autumn leaf. But her smile was stitched back by my lovely wife Jace, and though it reminded me of the Joker….it nowhere behaved like the character. The stitches did give up time n again but only to strengthen our bond. While I was worried about her survival through the ride she was concerned about my embarrassment, but soon we got over it and paid no heed to the staring eyes.

The 45 days ride soon got over but the denim left its indigo on my soul. She still hangs in my wooden wardrobe but always standing out amongst the many shades of blue hanging in.

She’s the warrior….she’s my HERO.