At 70, when most people are advised to slow down, Mr N. Sekar decided to speed up. In a modest, self-converted Toyota, he set off on a 25,000-kilometre overland journey that would take him through the roof of the world.
While friends his age were planning retirement homes and health check-ups, he was planning routes, visas, and how to fix a tyre in the middle of a desert.
In his interview with tabla!, Mr Sekar spoke about the journey with the wide-eyed wonder of a child.
‘’It all began quietly. In 2012-13, I saw a post on Facebook about someone travelling to London by road. That small post planted a seed in me,” he said. From that seed, a 15-year obsession grew. He did not rush. London was now the only direction. What followed was a geography lesson coming alive.
More than 30 countries unfolded before Sekar’s windscreen. Yes, the stark heights of Tibet and China, the vast steppes of Kazakhstan, the Silk Road cities of Uzbekistan, the rugged passes of Georgia, the gateway of Turkey and Greece, until the Thames finally appeared.
The Mountain That Made Even The Car Gasp
Every epic has a hard chapter. For Mr Sekar, it was Tibet. “This was the toughest part of my journey,” he recalls, and then laughs – a laugh that has survived thin air.
‘’At 5,000 metres, it was not just my lungs that gasped for air. My car did too, heaving up and down those endless slopes until even the road gave up,” he said
For nearly 600 kilometres, roadwork had shrunk his world to 14 kilometres an hour. Then, as if testing him further, a lorry got stuck in the slush ahead.
“Only wind, darkness and snow-capped emptiness,” he recalled.
His car became his bedroom. “For hours, nothing moved. No way forward, no way back. Just cold, mud and willpower. I slept in my car, woke up to a frozen windshield and started the engine again. I didn’t turn back.”
Mr Sekar lived on bread, biscuits, and beverages from petrol stations. “The road tested me, but people saved me,” he said.
In Tashkent, his car broke down. A vegetarian, he struggled to find food without knowing the language. A restaurant owner offered porridge and roti (bread).
“When I asked how much to pay, he showed me on a translator app: ‘You are our guest, there is no charge for kindness,’’ Mr Sekar said.
In Greece, near the White Tower, he left his luggage behind and drove 55 km before realising. On returning, the bag was untouched. “All these are proof that humanity still lives,” he said.
Mr Sekar entered London quietly – no crowd, just him, a car covered in dust from 18 countries, and tears.
Asked what kept him going, Mr Sekar replied: “When I was young, they said I couldn’t. At 70, I wanted to prove I still can. I didn’t want to return as a loser. And I made it.”
Waiting at home, his wife Parvathi, 66, said it was their longest separation in many years. “I am happy he returned victoriously. But it is doubtful that he will get permission from me for such a journey again,” she said with a laugh.
Surprise at Changi – A Welcome Planned 5,000 Kilometres Away
While Mr Sekar crossed continents, his daughter Archana Gomathi, 37, in Singapore planned a welcome. Knowing he would transit via Changi, she gathered his school friends and classmates from decades ago.
“It was a pleasant shock for my father,” Ms Archana said. For her, London is not the only reason to celebrate him.
“Appa was a feminist 40 years ago. He named his children after their grandmothers. He was a pioneer in sharing household work with my mother. For his values, he should be celebrated every day,” she noted.
Today, Mr Sekar’s car is back in Bengaluru. His diary, which for 15 years carried the line One day, I will drive to London, now has a new line: What’s next?
