On the Wheels

                         Summer of 2008 in Bangalore. I would have had a tough time if at all my father had asked me why on earth I need my two-wheeler to be shipped all the way from my hometown to Bangalore. Less than half a kilometer from my house to office can’t be the compelling reason. Guess he understood his daughter was feeling crippled like a bird without wings. That is how my activa (my father’s activa if you go by the papers) was packed and sent as a parcel in train to Bengaluru Railway Station.

                        So far so good. Now, my activa is no wonder vehicle to drive on its own to my house from the far-off Majestic as the place is called. I was offered a helping hand in that direction from my sister’s close friend and colleague. But call it ego or arrogance or plain possessiveness, I decided to go and collect it myself drawing much ire of my sister and her friend. And that happened to be the first lasting impression I formed on my sister’s friend who later on married her and became my brother-in-law. Must say, all is well now.

                        So, we, me and my gal pal from office, took off after lunch in an auto to Majestic. When all the formalities were finished and the vehicle was all mine to be taken away, I started feeling the pinch of it. Having no direction sense whatsoever, both of us decided to stay true to our gender - Ask for directions. We dint spare anyone-pedestrians, traffic police, rickshaw walas. That is when I realized Bangaloreans are a truly helpful bunch. Or may be, we were doing the damsels-in-distress act pretty neatly. In spite of all the help, we found ourselves moving in circles passing through same point over and over again. We somehow managed to ride through the honking madness and the scorching sun over us (trust me sun can be scorching in Bangalore in summer) and reached office. I still remember how my hands couldn’t stop shivering even after I turned the machine off.

                        Almost three years since that day, I have got accustomed to the Bangalore traffic and rules. The sight of traffic police truck for taking away wrongly parked two-wheelers was a scary revelation. My vehicle was once almost towed away. I still look at it like kids looking at the big van which comes on prowls to take away the stray dogs and kill them. Four years of riding in my hometown, I have never had to use helmet or rear-view mirror. After getting fined for riding without helmet and a couple of accidents which left me with minor bruises, I have learnt to be more careful.

           I am not someone who sees soul in material things. But I seem to have an enduring emotional bond with this one thing which has been with me since I got the right to vote and marry. So I will selectively hate anyone who calls it a wobbling bullock cart or a thousand rupee worth second hand material. Anyone who says riding a gear-less two wheeler is a cakewalk and it is nothing to be proud of , also won’t be spared. Having written this, I am reminded to collect my vehicle insurance papers from the NIC’s office.