The day was perfect for a long ride. The breeze was steady, warm but not hot. The sun played hide and seek with the clouds but hid most of the time. There was a slight drizzle or a sprinkle should I say, in the air, yet it was negotiable. The traffic was surprisingly tolerable. My Digi cam was ready for its first mission. My best buddy, my bike, the Bajaj Pulsar 150CC dtsi, ‘BOB’ as I fondly called him, was all fuelled up and sparkling clean for the long journey. I don’t like referring to him as ‘it’ because ‘he’s’ more of a family member and probably the best thing that ever happened to me in my ordinary life. My spirit was high, so was my friend’s, Krishna, a human friend this time.
Our destination was Mahabalipuram and we also planned to visit some beaches on our way, if time permited. I slipped on my favourite red t-shirt, my woefully worn out dirty blue jeans and made sure I wore my black gloves as well to go with it. I might have looked a bit ridiculous but I have always dreamed of dressing up like that for the ride, cared two hoots for what others thought about it. Oh and I almost forgot to mention my black goggles to top it up. I might have looked like a hooligan but I loved it either ways. Krishna’s appearance was quite modest, as always. A simple t-shirt to go with his clean blue jeans made us look like total opposites. In a way he made me feel guilty.
So all three of us started at around 10 in the morning. I decided not to tell my mom, as she would have freaked out at the idea of me traveling long distances on my bike, but I kept my friend’s mom informed, just in case. I picked up Krish on my way and bid adieu to his Bro who looked disheartened at the fact that he wasn’t a part of the troop. I later learnt from Krish that it was his dream to go with me for a long ride on my bike. I felt sorry for him and wished I could take him as well, but alas Bob could accommodate just two clowns ata time. Maybe next time, whenever that is.
I threaded Bob through the city traffic and was just waiting to break into the spacious inviting roads of the east coast road. The city roads were usually sickening. The nauseatingly slow moving cars whose drivers probably thought they had all the time in the world to reach their destination. They were equally contested impatient reckless autorikshaw drivers rode as if they had forgotten their father’s birthday. Cyclists who just seemed to appear out of thin air to block our way. Then to glorify the insanity the insane bus drivers who sped up behind you blared their horns often, to give you Goosebumps. The unpredictable share autos who swerved ominously to their left and right, carelessly, with least consideration for other commuters lived up to their reputations of being "rodents of the road". To top it all, the most dangerous of the lot, last but not the least, the pedestrians who danced across the road, probably expecting an applause from the motorists for their performance. I gave one such pedestrian an ear full, in return, he blinked at me with utmost innocence. Frankly, I hated the city streets but to tell you the truth, I had got used to it. Probably, surviving the city traffic had elevated my patience level to new heights over the years.
Finally we broke through the traffic. Bob and I hungrily laid my eyes on the black smooth tar road ahead of us, the beautiful scenic East coast road. Bob’s engine roared enthusiastically and comfortably climbed up to 80 kmph. I was at my happiest. I was in union with nature. The rain sprinkling on my face, the roar of Bob’s engine and the incessant ‘whoosh’ of the wind sneaking past my ear, through my helmet, was all I could feel. I overtook the other vehicles effortlessly, making them look embarrassingly stationary and silently sneered at them as I zoomed past them. The road divider seemed to just stream past me like a ravaging river. The road was smooth, so was Bob. It made me doubt if we were really flying at one point of time. Every pedestrian seemed to grow from an inch to his/her actual height within seconds before becoming insingnificant. I was in total bliss.
I concentrated hard on the road, as this road had a reputation for taking plenty of lives and I didn’t want to add to the body count. The curves were dangerous and the maneuvers were complex, at 90kmph the slightest miscalculation or the slightest element of doubt during maneuvers could be fatal. I still managed to exceed my bike-riding skills by taking those curves without much fuss. Bob was great to ride and especially on the freeway he was a pleasure. He was reliable even though the roads were wet and was a delight when it came to riding comfort. Bob made my dream come true. Ever since my college days i had enviously eyed the fashion parade of bikes early in the morning when college started. I had promised myself that i would be a subject for envy one day with my bike. After finishing my 1st year at work i assured myself that i had enough finance to invest in a bike. Bajaj launched the new variant Pulsar with digital display, LED taillights, meaner looks and complimented by better performance. I knew that was exactly what i had been waiting for. His sleek body and tantalizing design had its own appeal and a red dragon shaped ‘S’ sticker on the hood gave him a seductive personality. He was worth every penny I spent on him. Maybe more. It took me less than a month to expertise riding the bike. Bob, zoomed into my life and changed my whole perception towards life. He had become something more than a bike for me, we had become inseparable friends. Ever since I bought him, we had always been complimenting each other. He made sure I got noticed and I reciprocated. The first time I mounted him I could have sworn that my bike whispered “I had been waiting for you.” My adventurous relationship with him started that very moment. I love Bob and he loves me back. Man and machine, best friends for life.
Going at top speed on the freeway on a macho bike, with picture perfect sceneries skirting the freeway, was always something I had dreamed about since childhood. As I sped along the freeway I noticed a police patrol car, decorated with prominent flickering blue lights on the roof, parked by the roadside at a distance. An immediate, deliberate transition took place. The speed came down to mid 50’s and my posture changed to that of an innocent looking rider who’s never been over 50 kmph in his life. The cops bought the act. As I had rightly anticipated they didn’t bother to pay much heed to me and focused on a speeding car behind me. It was probably breakfast time and they obviously needed a fat bribe. A speeding car would probably squeeze out enough fine to finance them breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner. As soon as we passed them I dropped my pretentious posture and got back to where I had left off, as I was quite confident that we had seen the last cops for miles to come, considering that it was a Monday. Cops rarely patrol the freeways during weekdays but their activity increases during the weekends to floor weekend drunk drivers and filthy rich arrogant brats on four wheelers or two wheelers.
I peeped curiously into the rear view mirror and smiled slyly as I saw the car being stopped by desperate cops with outstretched arms, barricading the road, much to the dismay of the dismayed car driver. Bob and I roared down the road and a scream of relief and delight escaped my throat “Yeeeeeeeehhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaah”.
Bob sped like a predator as if in pursuit of an imaginary prey. Black and mean, Bob, was like a cheetah with a ‘never say die’ attitude paralleled by a storehouse of demonic energy and of course with a voracious appetite for adventure. With him I felt like a superhuman. Bob and I merged into one unperceived entity. Man and machine, immortalized by unending thirst for thrill, adventure and adrenaline pumping action. We took a pit stop at the Kovalam beach lookout point. I parked my bike and decided a nice snap with Bob would not be a bad idea. One nice snap led to another and I ended up spending almost 15 minutes posing and snapping pics, more than a super model would for a men’s health magazine. Poor Krishna had to do the honors of taking my pics and im sure he lost his appetite at the end of the session.
We then shifted our attention to the speciality of that place, the beautiful, sparkling beach which was about a kilometer away. It was a picture that deserved a painting. The sand, gold in colour was romanced by the sky blue sea, which kissed the shore tenderly ever so often. A catamaran, witnessing this love duel, danced on the waves, while the fishermen on it struggled to pull in their catch. The sea was further decorated by few unperturbed ships, which seemed to form a necklace on the horizon. A flock of seagulls, with milk white wings, flew high in the air over the bay, with broken clouds leaking beams of sunlight through, framing the background as if completing nature’s attire. I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes to visualize the spectacle before me. It was just impossible to recreate. It was too beautiful. The spellbinding beauty instantly vaporised the stress, which had accumulated over a period of months at work. My soul was cleansed, felt more like rebirth. I was lost in the moment. Totally lost. Is this how heaven is? Or is it better. If it were better, how beautiful would that be? However it was, am sure it would be blindingly beautiful. This was probably the first time I had made acquaintance with nature, and I didn’t want this moment to end anytime soon.
We captured the beauty as much as possible with my cam and left.The smell of wet mud accompanied us throughout our long journey. We were speeding against the wind so I found it a little uncomfortable to stretch beyond the 95kmph mark. The digital speedo creeped up to 98 kmph, when I decided to maintain the speed for the rest of the journey. I overtook a bus smoothly, but not before being covered with a fine spray of mud, straight off the wheels of the bus. Krish escaped the mud bath as he hid behind me, while I ended up getting a generous layer of mud on my face making me look more like a wretched character straight out of one of Stephen king’s novels. I should have felt stupid enough to stop and wipe my face clean but I continued unscathed. I felt a satisfaction sweep through me. The mud was all I required to make me a complete biker. The wind, the mud and my speeding bike completed the recipe for a complete bike ride. I switched on the wolf-eyed lamps, which glamorized Bob a bit. Made him look more radical, as well as attract the attention of the oncoming traffic. Bob and I loved attention. I remember counting every head glued with a mesmerized looking face, which turned along the road and on other vehicles that we overtook, during the journey.
We had a hair raising moment when a Qualis, that we overtook a short while back, rushed past us, missing us by barely a couple of inches. It was so close that it almost brushed Krish’s protruding knee by the side of the bike. Thankfully I held my nerve and held the bike steady, if not, it would have been RIP for Krish, Bob and I. I was horrified for a moment. It was as if I had seen death smile wickedly at me from ear to ear, in close up. I slowed down a bit to recollect my composure and then once I stabilized, I sped up again. Krish, who was aghast by the narrow escape, heaved a sigh of relief down the back of my neck. The road just reeled past us as though Bob was devouring it. The milestones seemed to be popping up ever so often. I barely noticed a sign, which said ‘Mahabalipuram - 10 km’. Its then that I decided to slow down Bob, as I didn’t want him to overheat his engine and lead to unpleasant complications that I suppose I wasn’t ready to deal with. We came down to 50kmph and maintained it till we reached a sign, which read “ WELCOME TO MAMALLAPURAM”. Destination reached.
Took us a little past 1 hour to reach there but that one-hour lasted a life time and my mind, body and soul amalgamated into a state of harmony and peace, which doesn’t happen that often for me. Am sorry I didn’t mention much about Krish because all he did was just stick to my back all through the journey and squeak an occasional irritating “ go slow da” only to find me going faster. Obviously Bob and I don’t know how to go slow. Eventually he got off the bike, after perhaps the ride of his life, with his hair spiked up and eyes blown dry and said “Dude…when do we do this again??”.“Hopefully very soon.” I replied with a tired smile. By far, this episode in my life had all been about the breeze, Bob and me.
