It was a Friday evening, work had been real tight. After a whole 9 hours of having to bend over backwards I was weary and felt the strain of the last 1 week . The lift was excruciatingly slow as people got onto it from the 2nd floor to reach the ground floor! I know I'm lazy but that's taking it way too far! After silently muttering at them under my breath, I walked off towards my bike.
There she stood all silent and cold, she seemed pissed off having to wait out on the sun the whole day. Slid in the key and tried starting her. She was in one of her moods today and refused to turn over. I coaxed her by wiping some dust of the speedometer and made feverish promises of treating her to some extra premium the next time I filled petrol. It seemed to work, the familiar and reassuring beat of her engine filled my ears.
Helmet on, throttle blip and off I was to home sweet home. It would have been around 8, completely dark and as I could not use my high end Xenon lamp as it was too bright for city use I was riding blind. I was taking it easy weaving in and out of traffic at a slow pace. I was almost in front of Taj Coromandel when I noticed this couple crossing the road. Guy and girl, I noticed the girl was pretty cute. Probably this saved her life as I spotted her early enough!
Let me run you through the turn of events, I'm doing around 40 km/hr and there is this couple crossing the road 30 meters in front of me. I notice them ( the girl in detail) early and my hands shifts from the throttle to the brake lever in anticipation of a braking manoeuvre. The guy notices me and stops, I assume the girl will too and shift my fingers back from the brake lever to the throttle. But no! She looks at the opposite direction and calmly crosses the road oblivious to me hurtling towards her at 40 km/hr.
Lets pause here, I have covered 10 meters in this time frame, my hand is not on the brake lever anymore and I have a girl right in front of me!Right around this point of time, I feel something fall inside the pits of my stomach as my heart jumps into my mouth and my adrenaline glands pump a gazillion liters of adrenaline in a bid to super-sensitize my muscles to avert this collision.
I flick my fingers back to the brake cable and threw down the anchor. Brake lever injects brake fluid pulls /pushes brake pads meet brake disc / brake drum (I'm an automotive research analyst) as I experience the all too familiar sense of deceleration. I vaguely note the sound of screeching tires, as the guy realizes the danger his girl friend / sister/ wife is in and shouts out to her.
By now I'm 10 meters from the girl clinging on for dear life (mine and hers). The rear throws me a hint of stepping out and I dab the rear brakes a little harder. The girl begins turning around to see whats the matter, obviously unaware to whats happening all this while. It was like one of those synchronized competitions in the Olympics. As she turned around, I noticed her face twist in shock. She dint budge a centimeter as I closed the remaining 10 m and ground to a grand finale halt right in front of her high heels (I noticed).
That's when I realized the girl was catching her heart and screaming out to mankind. The boyfriend / Brother / Husband rushed to her and pulled her aside and profusely thanked me for saving her life!! I just shook my head and said "Oh My God!". My hands shivered and my breath came back to me in short gasps as I pulled away from the scene thank full that my bike had saved my life yet again.
On the way back home I stopped at a petrol bunk and topped her up on 12 Liters of Extra Premium. Have to change that headlight next.....
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Friday, December 26, 2008
Nothing in particular
I'm back finally, after a brief hiatus filled with deadlines, the odd bash and intermittent showers. Since the last time I wrote on these pages Chennai has been inundated by cyclone Nisha, Mumbai taken hostage by a bunch of morons and my place besieged by my family. It has been a period of great turmoil and instability and the readers would hopefully understand my absence.
Instead of making this post a meaningless ramble because I am totally jobless on my last day of work for the year, I would instead like to focus on nothing in particular. As I stare out of my 7th floor office window wondering what to write I notice this guy crossing the road as cars come to a screeching halt around him. He nonchalantly avoids all insults thrown in his direction and is off on his way. I tear my gaze away from the window and wonder about the world we live in. People are not prepared to even give away a centimeter to fellow beings even if it is a matter of the least importance. Standing at a petrol bunk to refuel, you will invariably find this guy who believes refueling his bike at the cost of jumping the queue and attracting cold stares from people around is definitely worth it.
People believe that time wasted these days is directly proportional to the amount of money they could be making instead. Wasting 2 minutes at a queue could instead earn you 20 rs? Yes, I understand that 20 rs to person 'A' might mean a lot more than it is to me but is it still worth being a rude selfish person? Maybe it is not my place to judge him because I'm not perfect either. Hell no one is, that I can assure you. But there in lies the unavoidable conclusion, no one cares because no one has any values remaining. Years of surviving in a dog eat dog world erodes at the value system meticulously crafted by our parents over endless bed time story sessions or by teachers during moral science classes, not that we gave 2 hoots anyway back then.
But face it or lace it with skepticism, we need to agree that we are an inherent part of this corrupted system. We might rave on and on about how imperfect the systems is but in turn we are only finding faults with ourselves. Corruption is rampant in all walks of lives, sooner or later we become a part of the systems while the few who wish to stand against it are branded as working against the system. My father told me there was a time when you knew everyone in Adyar by name. People would not think twice before doing you a favor, money was secondary. Today everyone knows no one, people will think twice about thinking of doing a favor and its all about the money!
I can truthfully say that until today I have not bribed anyone, at least to my knowledge. But will I be this strong the day such a situation arises? Or will I ditch those values, whatever little remains, and decide to take the easy way out?
Instead of making this post a meaningless ramble because I am totally jobless on my last day of work for the year, I would instead like to focus on nothing in particular. As I stare out of my 7th floor office window wondering what to write I notice this guy crossing the road as cars come to a screeching halt around him. He nonchalantly avoids all insults thrown in his direction and is off on his way. I tear my gaze away from the window and wonder about the world we live in. People are not prepared to even give away a centimeter to fellow beings even if it is a matter of the least importance. Standing at a petrol bunk to refuel, you will invariably find this guy who believes refueling his bike at the cost of jumping the queue and attracting cold stares from people around is definitely worth it.
People believe that time wasted these days is directly proportional to the amount of money they could be making instead. Wasting 2 minutes at a queue could instead earn you 20 rs? Yes, I understand that 20 rs to person 'A' might mean a lot more than it is to me but is it still worth being a rude selfish person? Maybe it is not my place to judge him because I'm not perfect either. Hell no one is, that I can assure you. But there in lies the unavoidable conclusion, no one cares because no one has any values remaining. Years of surviving in a dog eat dog world erodes at the value system meticulously crafted by our parents over endless bed time story sessions or by teachers during moral science classes, not that we gave 2 hoots anyway back then.
But face it or lace it with skepticism, we need to agree that we are an inherent part of this corrupted system. We might rave on and on about how imperfect the systems is but in turn we are only finding faults with ourselves. Corruption is rampant in all walks of lives, sooner or later we become a part of the systems while the few who wish to stand against it are branded as working against the system. My father told me there was a time when you knew everyone in Adyar by name. People would not think twice before doing you a favor, money was secondary. Today everyone knows no one, people will think twice about thinking of doing a favor and its all about the money!
I can truthfully say that until today I have not bribed anyone, at least to my knowledge. But will I be this strong the day such a situation arises? Or will I ditch those values, whatever little remains, and decide to take the easy way out?
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Luckless rambles.....
Have you ever wondered why something happens when you least expect it to? Like just when you jump into the shower the phone rings? Or when you just sit down to a blissful cuppa and a sitcom and the darned door bell rings? Why do things happen when they are not supposed to, or when you'd rather not want them to? If things happen the way you want them to then I guess it makes life a lot easier. I believe every single person has something like a luck account which is registered in their name the second they are born and then God or whoever registered it will send a string of luck as and when he pleases which would either mess up the person's life or make his life depending on the amount of luck needed.
I feel some individuals are born rich on luck, the person up above was in a generous mood on that fine day because he woke up on the right side of the bed? And some people like me, who are as lucky as the chicken that dint end up crossing the road, are born poor and die in debt. Looks like the dude up above had a bad hair day on my birthday...
There is a German proverb which says "no one is luckier than one who believes in his own luck". Sometimes its all about riding the wave, when you are given credit for something you did not really work on, it has never happened to me by the way, you tend to believe in yourself and ride you luck until you screw up. If luck knocks only once on your door then I guess ill-luck knocks until you open. You delay and it will crash into your house, riddle your now luckless body with bullets until you are out cold and take its dues. Luck and ill-luck are 2 sides of the same coins. Sometimes you need a lot of luck to end up getting unlucky, ironical ain't it? You wouldn't have been in a position to loose much unless you had been lucky in the first place! Imagine the Greek king ,Midas's plight when everything he touched turned to gold, including his daughter. In your face Midas!
But some people, like me, manage to get unlucky even though lady luck has not as much as even given half a glance forget a wink. Whatever little we have managed to scrap together for the cold hard winter gets blown away by a single night of pubbing and lo behold, I'm a beggar for the rest of the long-freaking-31 day month!! Yeah, it had to be a 31 day month! People say opportunity knocks only once, but why couldn't it ring the god damned bell? I just payed 200 rupees and got it fixed! Why would anybody knock the door instead of ringing it. Old school I guess.
Anyway my warning to all you lucky people out there is, beware! Luck is not a giver, Rather a lender, when your time is up its back to square one amigo! And if it does not happen until you fade into the dark, then you have something coming your way when you reach those gates!!
Until then I'm just sitting, waiting and hoping it works out with Lady Luck. As for you, when god throws those dice, pray and hope they are loaded.
Cheers
I feel some individuals are born rich on luck, the person up above was in a generous mood on that fine day because he woke up on the right side of the bed? And some people like me, who are as lucky as the chicken that dint end up crossing the road, are born poor and die in debt. Looks like the dude up above had a bad hair day on my birthday...
There is a German proverb which says "no one is luckier than one who believes in his own luck". Sometimes its all about riding the wave, when you are given credit for something you did not really work on, it has never happened to me by the way, you tend to believe in yourself and ride you luck until you screw up. If luck knocks only once on your door then I guess ill-luck knocks until you open. You delay and it will crash into your house, riddle your now luckless body with bullets until you are out cold and take its dues. Luck and ill-luck are 2 sides of the same coins. Sometimes you need a lot of luck to end up getting unlucky, ironical ain't it? You wouldn't have been in a position to loose much unless you had been lucky in the first place! Imagine the Greek king ,Midas's plight when everything he touched turned to gold, including his daughter. In your face Midas!
But some people, like me, manage to get unlucky even though lady luck has not as much as even given half a glance forget a wink. Whatever little we have managed to scrap together for the cold hard winter gets blown away by a single night of pubbing and lo behold, I'm a beggar for the rest of the long-freaking-31 day month!! Yeah, it had to be a 31 day month! People say opportunity knocks only once, but why couldn't it ring the god damned bell? I just payed 200 rupees and got it fixed! Why would anybody knock the door instead of ringing it. Old school I guess.
Anyway my warning to all you lucky people out there is, beware! Luck is not a giver, Rather a lender, when your time is up its back to square one amigo! And if it does not happen until you fade into the dark, then you have something coming your way when you reach those gates!!
Until then I'm just sitting, waiting and hoping it works out with Lady Luck. As for you, when god throws those dice, pray and hope they are loaded.
Cheers
Friday, September 26, 2008
And then it all went dark...
It seems like yesterday, my hands traced the line of cracked paint along the walls of the corridor to the ICCU (Intensive Critical Care Unit) in Vijaya Hospital, Vadapalani. My uncle walked along side me, dread filled every step of mine as we walked towards my uncle (elder than the one walking beside me). We reached a hall and a nurse looked up from her files with a questioning glance, I walked towards her. The pungent smell of disinfectant filled my nose as the dim lighting overhead seemed to fill every shadow with a ghastly pallor. My throat was parched and my extremes where numb with the cold air and a sense of foreboding which threatened to fill me.
I asked her for my uncle, "Where is patient by the name Shanmugarajan?".
"Second patient from the right just after entering the ICCU" she said.
I looked at my Uncle who gestured to me to follow him. I felt my stomach lurch as though it refused to follow me into the ICCU, I felt kiddish right then and looked to my uncle for guidance. He had followed the nurses instruction quicker, his stomach seemed fine alright. I stepped into the room, to my right was a patient hooked to a number of instruments as test tubes weaved from every orifice in his sickened body. I tore my gaze from him to turn towards my uncle, my uncle for 21 years, now reduced to a shadow of himself for the next few hours as he struggled against death. And at that very instant I knew this moment would be etched into my brain forever.
My uncle for 21 years, who had been a loving person, who had always stood by my father's side, who had clipped my nails when I was a kid, who had always wished the best for me was now lying on a gurney, wearing a blue gown, struggling against the Velcro strips that bound him to his hellish torture chamber. Tubes and injections entered and exited him and the life support systems that where prolonging his agony hung from his chest in support A pillar of strength from the day my memory account was initiated, now a dilapidated ruin broken down by disease. His conscience laced with the drugs tried to break free from its bodily confines, torn between the struggle to regain lost ground in its battle against death. As I gazed down upon him, I realized the monumental struggle taking place in front of me. His very being seemed to revolt against his body and my uncle was the battle ground ravaged by conflict, stricken wounded soldiers, rivers of blood flowing towards the ocean where they would be consumed by her gaping mouth.
Beside me my uncle gagged, stifled a sob and then broke down.
"Shanmugam!! Look at me!! Shanmugam!!" he cried.
To my amazement, I noticed a flicker of recognition flow across my uncle's shriveled face. The doctor's had told us he was on heavy medication and was in a drug induced coma so I could not understand what was happening. How could he possibly react? My uncle had always been a fighter, even after almost loosing his eyesight for the last 5 years of his troubled life, he had never given up. I could almost sense his conscience try to break free from his drug laced body, trying to call out for help. Or was it that he had finally accepted defeat and had decided to throw the towel in?
My uncle wonder struck rushed towards him to hug him upon noticing the reaction. I had to restrain him because my uncle was just a mass of flesh and bones below a seemingly endless web of test tubes and medical equipments. I was worried that even a single string of silk disturbed from that endless web would send my uncle hurtling to the deep. I shed a tear unable to take it in. I wept like a child, I wept for my uncle, for his memory.
It struck me then, with a sickening blow, that the only image I would ever remember of my uncle would be what I beheld at that moment. Erased where those memories of being lifted in his strong arms, riding piggy back on him, being chased for calling him by his name and not the respectable title of "Chithappa" suffixed, instead was a memory, or half a memory? Was this my dearest uncle? I asked.
The next morning Shanmugarajan breath his last. He died in his sleep, after struggling for over a week, on March 6th 2006.
2 days later I went home and saw his picture "Was that you I saw uncle?" I asked again. He smiled back at me from the picture as though mocking at my childish question.
3 days later, my sister called me from the states.
" Niru, for the rest of my life I will live with the single regret that I never saw him before he died" she wept.
I said " Akka, you have no idea how lucky you are...... "
2 years later, you are still sorely missed.
In loving memory of my uncle.......
I asked her for my uncle, "Where is patient by the name Shanmugarajan?".
"Second patient from the right just after entering the ICCU" she said.
I looked at my Uncle who gestured to me to follow him. I felt my stomach lurch as though it refused to follow me into the ICCU, I felt kiddish right then and looked to my uncle for guidance. He had followed the nurses instruction quicker, his stomach seemed fine alright. I stepped into the room, to my right was a patient hooked to a number of instruments as test tubes weaved from every orifice in his sickened body. I tore my gaze from him to turn towards my uncle, my uncle for 21 years, now reduced to a shadow of himself for the next few hours as he struggled against death. And at that very instant I knew this moment would be etched into my brain forever.
My uncle for 21 years, who had been a loving person, who had always stood by my father's side, who had clipped my nails when I was a kid, who had always wished the best for me was now lying on a gurney, wearing a blue gown, struggling against the Velcro strips that bound him to his hellish torture chamber. Tubes and injections entered and exited him and the life support systems that where prolonging his agony hung from his chest in support A pillar of strength from the day my memory account was initiated, now a dilapidated ruin broken down by disease. His conscience laced with the drugs tried to break free from its bodily confines, torn between the struggle to regain lost ground in its battle against death. As I gazed down upon him, I realized the monumental struggle taking place in front of me. His very being seemed to revolt against his body and my uncle was the battle ground ravaged by conflict, stricken wounded soldiers, rivers of blood flowing towards the ocean where they would be consumed by her gaping mouth.
Beside me my uncle gagged, stifled a sob and then broke down.
"Shanmugam!! Look at me!! Shanmugam!!" he cried.
To my amazement, I noticed a flicker of recognition flow across my uncle's shriveled face. The doctor's had told us he was on heavy medication and was in a drug induced coma so I could not understand what was happening. How could he possibly react? My uncle had always been a fighter, even after almost loosing his eyesight for the last 5 years of his troubled life, he had never given up. I could almost sense his conscience try to break free from his drug laced body, trying to call out for help. Or was it that he had finally accepted defeat and had decided to throw the towel in?
My uncle wonder struck rushed towards him to hug him upon noticing the reaction. I had to restrain him because my uncle was just a mass of flesh and bones below a seemingly endless web of test tubes and medical equipments. I was worried that even a single string of silk disturbed from that endless web would send my uncle hurtling to the deep. I shed a tear unable to take it in. I wept like a child, I wept for my uncle, for his memory.
It struck me then, with a sickening blow, that the only image I would ever remember of my uncle would be what I beheld at that moment. Erased where those memories of being lifted in his strong arms, riding piggy back on him, being chased for calling him by his name and not the respectable title of "Chithappa" suffixed, instead was a memory, or half a memory? Was this my dearest uncle? I asked.
The next morning Shanmugarajan breath his last. He died in his sleep, after struggling for over a week, on March 6th 2006.
2 days later I went home and saw his picture "Was that you I saw uncle?" I asked again. He smiled back at me from the picture as though mocking at my childish question.
3 days later, my sister called me from the states.
" Niru, for the rest of my life I will live with the single regret that I never saw him before he died" she wept.
I said " Akka, you have no idea how lucky you are...... "
2 years later, you are still sorely missed.
In loving memory of my uncle.......
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
On the road
Groan...I woke up to the "Pirates of the Caribbean" theme music. It was 5 Rs Coin calling, and the time was 4 A.M. If you are puzzled, which any normal human being would be, 5 Rs Coin is my dear ride partner Haresh a.k.a "Back". 5 Rs Coin because he has this weird habit of collecting 5 Rs Coin. Well I do happen to collect a lot of things from stamps to automobile magazines and I'm happy I'm not called any of them.
I was supposed to be at Ara's place by 4-30 and I had just 29 minutes. Immediately took the phone and called SR, and true to my premonitions he didn't pick up the call. Tried 3 times and even harbored half a thought to go to his place and wake him up but then I remembered that he was Nara's responsibility and unceremoniously ditched him. Had a shower, got dressed and got my bike all heated and saddled up and left home with my brother waving good bye after blessing me with wise sayings like "do the ride for the route and not for the destination" and "don kill yourself" etc.
The ride to Ara's place was supremely quick and at 4-30 in the morning the streets where deserted except for the odd hint of life. Dogs woke up from their reverie and lazily watched me pass by as I zipped to Ara's place. Haresh was there before me and waiting to head out. Ara was down with a cuppa minus the milk as his doctor had advised him to lay off the milk. Poor soul, we kept reminding him of his plight throughout the trip. At least I did!:D
We passed Haresh's bag, gave Ara some instructions and took a few snaps in the dark. Ara then flagged us off and we started on our first road trip in the dark! I took the lead and immediately clipped 65 k's once we hit the Guindy junction. The city had begun to wake up and except for the lorry traffic, dust spray and blinding head lights I was feeling quite confident. Before we knew it we had hit the bypass at poonamale. Soon we where on the NH4 and twist the right hand! caman the roads!!
Riding in the night is quite a tough experience especially when you are doing 70 constant. Shadows play games with you and make weird shapes, truck drivers groggy from their sleep wake up on the wrong side of the bed and trucks dart around like 2 wheelers putting your riding skills to shame. It takes loads of concentration and focus on the road ahead and its during moments like this that my body reacts in strange ways. My nose begins to itch with annoying persistence while the tip of my head becomes hypersensitive. All of this has a simple fix, the sequence is as follows, stop my bike, remove my gloves and glass, wrestle my helmet off my now really irritating head and then scratch myself to glory. But then like most things in life.....I bear it. The most simplest alternative.
So on the road we where, our dear old college whizzed by as the early morning rays shone through the thin layer of fog. I had to lift my visor as my hot breath was misting on it. The cold wind helped numb my nose and that was a relief! Haresh took over and we where clipping 80 constant. The NH4 was 4 lane unadulterated butter smooth nirvana. We weaved in and out of the traffic and soon Ranipet flew by. We had a small break, made sure our bikes where not giving any strange noise or smell, checked our phones for any calls and then hit the road. We decided to make our next stop at Vellore for breakfast. The Orange juice and Marie biscuits I had before leaving had done their job. The prospect of more food brightened the already well lit day. Vellore came and went in a hurry and soon we where coasting to find a good decent breakfast place. I spotted a motel, haresh pulled over and we sat down to some hot idly and Dosa. It was 7:00 AM. 150 odd KM in 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Contd...
I was supposed to be at Ara's place by 4-30 and I had just 29 minutes. Immediately took the phone and called SR, and true to my premonitions he didn't pick up the call. Tried 3 times and even harbored half a thought to go to his place and wake him up but then I remembered that he was Nara's responsibility and unceremoniously ditched him. Had a shower, got dressed and got my bike all heated and saddled up and left home with my brother waving good bye after blessing me with wise sayings like "do the ride for the route and not for the destination" and "don kill yourself" etc.
The ride to Ara's place was supremely quick and at 4-30 in the morning the streets where deserted except for the odd hint of life. Dogs woke up from their reverie and lazily watched me pass by as I zipped to Ara's place. Haresh was there before me and waiting to head out. Ara was down with a cuppa minus the milk as his doctor had advised him to lay off the milk. Poor soul, we kept reminding him of his plight throughout the trip. At least I did!:D
We passed Haresh's bag, gave Ara some instructions and took a few snaps in the dark. Ara then flagged us off and we started on our first road trip in the dark! I took the lead and immediately clipped 65 k's once we hit the Guindy junction. The city had begun to wake up and except for the lorry traffic, dust spray and blinding head lights I was feeling quite confident. Before we knew it we had hit the bypass at poonamale. Soon we where on the NH4 and twist the right hand! caman the roads!!
Riding in the night is quite a tough experience especially when you are doing 70 constant. Shadows play games with you and make weird shapes, truck drivers groggy from their sleep wake up on the wrong side of the bed and trucks dart around like 2 wheelers putting your riding skills to shame. It takes loads of concentration and focus on the road ahead and its during moments like this that my body reacts in strange ways. My nose begins to itch with annoying persistence while the tip of my head becomes hypersensitive. All of this has a simple fix, the sequence is as follows, stop my bike, remove my gloves and glass, wrestle my helmet off my now really irritating head and then scratch myself to glory. But then like most things in life.....I bear it. The most simplest alternative.
So on the road we where, our dear old college whizzed by as the early morning rays shone through the thin layer of fog. I had to lift my visor as my hot breath was misting on it. The cold wind helped numb my nose and that was a relief! Haresh took over and we where clipping 80 constant. The NH4 was 4 lane unadulterated butter smooth nirvana. We weaved in and out of the traffic and soon Ranipet flew by. We had a small break, made sure our bikes where not giving any strange noise or smell, checked our phones for any calls and then hit the road. We decided to make our next stop at Vellore for breakfast. The Orange juice and Marie biscuits I had before leaving had done their job. The prospect of more food brightened the already well lit day. Vellore came and went in a hurry and soon we where coasting to find a good decent breakfast place. I spotted a motel, haresh pulled over and we sat down to some hot idly and Dosa. It was 7:00 AM. 150 odd KM in 2 hours and 15 minutes.
Contd...
Friday, September 5, 2008
Bangalore- the electronic city
Well, sorry about the dumb title but by now you guys should have realized that titles are something I'm not really good it. I was thinking something along the lines of "Bangalore-the city of angels" but then it felt over dramatic and hence the above title.
Now for most guys who know me well, they also happen to know my crazy side well too. This crazy side would love to get under a car given the chance, would love to ride a bike in the middle of the sun and have bath in grease if it where to win me an R1(actually an R15 would do the trick). So the moment Cha called and told me his "poonal kalyanam" function was in Bangalore somewhere in the deepest corner of my not so deep brain an electric impulse generated the most obvious thought wave, "friggin ride"!!!
My plan was set, I was riding even if it meant taking bath in grease. The question was who would ride with me, because cha and gav refused to let me ride alone. Haresh had issues with his bike, he has always had frankly, it keeps throwing him off its back ask him. Gav, J , Ara, KB, SR where to come in Ara's car while myself and Haresh where to follow in by bike provided he could resolve his differences with his bike. He keeps calling his bike "black" and I do not think it is taken in the right spirit. We employed some NATO peace keeping forces and there was a week long standoff but in the end Haresh and his bike reached an amicable solution.
After a ridiculously long gmail thread later, in which we decided on the route, scheduled stops, etc, we where ready for the D-Day as Gaurav called it. Frankly I was not as I had a lot of work to do. My "To do" list for the day included, getting the saddle bag from Bobby, Buying some essentials, meeting some important clients in the evening just before the ride and then going home and packing.
The client trip went well and I closed a successful deal. Went to SR's place to collect my new rider's jacket and the dear lad was right in the middle of a good long session. I warned the dufus to take it easy on the spirit or he would end up spilling his innards in a repeat performance of his puking episode at cha's place a week back. I had a weird feeling he would not make it to the trip when he showed me the gleaming, yet to be opened bottle of scotch. I had an even weirder sensation when I realized that I dint feel like having a drink!! Man I really wanted to make this trip! Lol! So from there I went back home to begin the packing session, it was 11 and I still hadn't begun packing or had the all important dinner. Once home, I showed my jacket to me bro and then sat down to a plate of curd rice watching Troy. Unfortunately I had not seen the movie before and it was A-W-E-S-O-M-E. I was immersed in Achilles and the battle of Troy with any thought of the ride for the next day pushed aside. Bling! Bling! Got a call and realized the time was 12. A marathon packing session later I had completed the packing and was ready to hit the sack. Tomorrow was a big day, my first big ride was 4 hours away and I was too excited(s) to sleep!. By the time sleep pulled me into oblivion it was 2-30....
Contd....
Now for most guys who know me well, they also happen to know my crazy side well too. This crazy side would love to get under a car given the chance, would love to ride a bike in the middle of the sun and have bath in grease if it where to win me an R1(actually an R15 would do the trick). So the moment Cha called and told me his "poonal kalyanam" function was in Bangalore somewhere in the deepest corner of my not so deep brain an electric impulse generated the most obvious thought wave, "friggin ride"!!!
My plan was set, I was riding even if it meant taking bath in grease. The question was who would ride with me, because cha and gav refused to let me ride alone. Haresh had issues with his bike, he has always had frankly, it keeps throwing him off its back ask him. Gav, J , Ara, KB, SR where to come in Ara's car while myself and Haresh where to follow in by bike provided he could resolve his differences with his bike. He keeps calling his bike "black" and I do not think it is taken in the right spirit. We employed some NATO peace keeping forces and there was a week long standoff but in the end Haresh and his bike reached an amicable solution.
After a ridiculously long gmail thread later, in which we decided on the route, scheduled stops, etc, we where ready for the D-Day as Gaurav called it. Frankly I was not as I had a lot of work to do. My "To do" list for the day included, getting the saddle bag from Bobby, Buying some essentials, meeting some important clients in the evening just before the ride and then going home and packing.
The client trip went well and I closed a successful deal. Went to SR's place to collect my new rider's jacket and the dear lad was right in the middle of a good long session. I warned the dufus to take it easy on the spirit or he would end up spilling his innards in a repeat performance of his puking episode at cha's place a week back. I had a weird feeling he would not make it to the trip when he showed me the gleaming, yet to be opened bottle of scotch. I had an even weirder sensation when I realized that I dint feel like having a drink!! Man I really wanted to make this trip! Lol! So from there I went back home to begin the packing session, it was 11 and I still hadn't begun packing or had the all important dinner. Once home, I showed my jacket to me bro and then sat down to a plate of curd rice watching Troy. Unfortunately I had not seen the movie before and it was A-W-E-S-O-M-E. I was immersed in Achilles and the battle of Troy with any thought of the ride for the next day pushed aside. Bling! Bling! Got a call and realized the time was 12. A marathon packing session later I had completed the packing and was ready to hit the sack. Tomorrow was a big day, my first big ride was 4 hours away and I was too excited(s) to sleep!. By the time sleep pulled me into oblivion it was 2-30....
Contd....
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Hi guys, i'm a blogger now
Sitting at my desk, bored, mind wanders.... fingers fidgety. Thinking of what I can do, or what I could be doing instead of sitting at my desk staring at my computer....millions of things. Like a ride? or play grid at home?(its a racing game for all those ignorant buggers) sleep? Hmmm...if only. But then if it was it wouldn't be called life right? More like fantasy I guess.
Nah I wouldn't want that now...its back to reality for me, my research study. Damn you Tata Nano!
until next time. cheers!
Damn!! writing helps you relieve some stress! Here I come you low cost Chassis!!
Nah I wouldn't want that now...its back to reality for me, my research study. Damn you Tata Nano!
until next time. cheers!
Damn!! writing helps you relieve some stress! Here I come you low cost Chassis!!
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