Motorcycle diaries

For enthusiasts, the motorcycle is a piece of art in motion. There is nothing more exhilarating than a motorcycle ride with the wind rushing through your hair as you zip through traffic, like the twists and turns in a crime thriller.

So, when I see hundreds of two-wheelers trying to do just that today, I feel a certain empathy for them. Their activities will make for an adventure saga. The city or town is not important, because it is a universal phenomenon on our roads.

Think of all the vehicles trying to get to their destination as early as possible. Many of the two-wheelers are in even more of a hurry. You see them wind through the lines of cars waiting impatiently for the green signal, and land up in front of all of them in a phalanx. What does it matter if they brush against or break a vehicle’s side mirror? They even hog the left lane on a free left turn, making the lefties wait, pretending to be tone deaf to the frantic honking or the yells of the more enraged or enterprising of the affected car drivers.

When the signal turns green, they rush forward like their life depended on it and leave the larger vehicles behind. There are those two-wheelers which overtake left-turning cars from the left. The car drivers then have their heart in their mouth as they barely miss a collision.

The more adventurous motorcyclists carry on long conversations while they drive, head tilted to one side to hold on to their mobile. I have often wondered whether they end up with spondylitis? The conversation is carried out at the top of their voice, so bystanders for miles across can hear all about their work and expertise, and all that is going on in their life and that of their family and friends. In one case, a motorcyclist shouted out his address and phone number to the person at the other end, and I remembered both for several months, though I am not a suspicious criminal who uses such information to land the shouter in trouble. The “family two-wheeler” is a sight to behold. The motorcyclist usually has a helmet, and there is his helmetless spouse and two youngsters of various ages, perched nonchalantly on the pillion and sometimes one in front of Papa, blithely talking and breathing in the traffic fumes. Sometimes, the children pretend to be an aeroplane, their arms flapping as other vehicles go by. As for the Heer-and-Ranjha couples, the less said about their antics, the better.

Many of our adventurers do not like to wear helmets, as it is too sweaty or their hair gets plastered down under the helmet. For them, getting to their destination with hair and face looking nice, is more important than getting there in one piece. But what if they end up not looking or feeling so good? It reminds me of the pundit who cut off the cow’s head to free it from the pot in which it was stuck.

One thing I have learnt from these sights and sounds on our roads, is that we Indians believe strongly in destiny or fate. We seem to be inspired by the theory that the end comes when it must, and not sooner. The concept of tempting fate is not on our radar.

lakshmi.r.srinivas@gmail.com