The Yoga of Max's Discontent by Karan Bajaj

Sam also,” he said. He turned to Max. “The parathas here are the bomb.”
    â€œAre you guys from the area?” said Max.
    Shiva nodded. “My village is close to here.”
    â€œWe go to engineering college in Rishikesh but drove up last night to take a break,” said Omkara. “Two months left for graduation, yet they persist in teaching bullshit, pretending like they are some great American university or something.”
    Max stared at their black motorcycle jackets and thick biker gloves.
    â€œYou came up that road from Rishikesh on motorcycles? Not a chance,” he said.
    The boys laughed. “We ride motorcycles better than we walk. That’s all we’ve done for four years in college. Up, down, up, down. Otherwise living in Rishikesh is more boring than watching you drink tea,” said Omkara.
    â€œAs boring as Cincinnati,” said Shiva.
    â€œBut how can you drive up that road at night? There isn’t a single streetlight,” said Max.
    â€œWe’ve done it a million times. It’s better. Roads are empty then. There are so many jerks driving in India that your chances are much better against the night than against another idiot driver,” said Omkara.
    The parathas arrived. Max tore the hot bread into pieces and wolfed it down, the spicy potatoes warming him up.
    â€œYou eat like an Indian,” said Omkara.
    Max laughed.
    Omkara removed his black gloves and kept them on the table. A crazy idea struck Max.
    â€œCan you ride up to Gangotri?” he said.
    Omkara looked up. “Of course. We can go anywhere,” he said.
    â€œLike right now?”
    They nodded.
    â€œBut why would anyone go up there now?” said Omkara. “You can’t even get a cup of tea there. And the view is the same. Here, there, everywhere, just mountains and snow, what’s there to see? It’s not like we have girlfriends to show pretty scenery to.”
    â€œCan you drive me up there now?” said Max impulsively.
    Omkara stopped eating. He looked at Shiva, then turned to Max.
    â€œI knew you were crazy when I saw you smiling by the stove,” said Omkara.
    â€œWhy do you want to go up?” said Shiva. “There is no one there now.”
    Omkara answered on Max’s behalf. “That’s why, dude, that’s why. Americans love their space and me time and all that mindfulness stuff. You are a tribal. You won’t understand,” he said. “Let’s go, dude, we are up for it. Fucking yeah. What else will we do all day here?”
    Shiva shrugged. “You can ride behind me so you have more space.”
    Fucking yeah. This was really happening. He was going to Gangotri, and later he’d hike up to Bhojbasa where the Brazilian doctor lived. A shiver of anticipation went up Max’s spine.
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    â€œYOU HAVE TO get rid of more than half of that crap, though,” said Omkara, pointing to Max’s backpack after they finished eating. “Else you’ll both topple over in the first valley.”
    Max hesitated. Every item in the bag was necessary. Knowing he would be hiking, he had scrutinized everything he had put in.
    Omkara walked over and picked up the backpack. “What’s in it, Uncle Sam? You can’t need this stuff in a hundred years,” he said.
    The three of them went through his backpack. Out went the yoga manual and the biography of Buddha he had picked up inthe London airport, the diary, the pens, two hiking pants, three T-shirts, sandals, shorts, swimming trunks, thin socks, malaria pills, a small lock—everything that didn’t serve the purpose of keeping the body warm in the cold.
    â€œThere, that’s a decent backpack,” said Omkara.
    It was half its original size.
    Omkara picked up Max’s swimming trunks from the discard pile. He danced around, circling them in the air.
    â€œI’m going swimming in the Himalayas,