I keep getting lost in the lanes of Bangalore. Half of them are one-ways. Most of them are loaded with traffic.
Yesterday was the second day when I was roaming in the city, alone on my uncle’s bike. Personally, I don’t derive any fun from driving a bike in traffic. But there was a reason. Another uncle had come down to Bangalore from Mumbai and had asked me to meet him. So I thought I would use the bike to commute to my office, so that later while returning, I could pick him up.
My little knowledge about the city made it extremely difficult to locate his office and I had to face two very short but very heavy downpours (which left me completely wet in the process), but finally I found him. I wish this had been the worst part of yesterday. But I guess God wanted to play with me a little more. And had more fun in store for me.
I took him to the uncle who lives in Bangalore (and whose bike I had been driving). My two uncles, one aunt and myself had a nice time chatting, eating and discussing relatives. And after a little more than 11pm, the uncle from Mumbai left for his guest house while I started my ride back to home (my cousin’s place where I stay). And well, of course, I got lost.
I ended up traveling a few unnecessary kilometers but finally figured out the correct way out. But before I could throw a smile around from inside my helmet to celebrate my victory over the lanes of Bangalore I came face to face with another reality. There was a stupid procession being carried out and the road that could lead me to home was blocked. The road that I had finally found after so much of effort was fucking blocked.
The search for an alternative route began. I succeeded. In fact this time around, it was easy. All I had to do was follow a lot of other vehicles, whose owners were equally frustrated by that procession.
Everything was going fine, till I took a turn. A right turn. From an interior lane to a main road. A giant bus came rushing by. It hit the bike. Thud!
A fucking speeding bus had hit my bike and was gone. It had hit the handle and the leg guard. I am not sure if had hit me as well, thanks to the helmet. It had jerked the bike in a direction different in which it was headed before the banging act took place. But moment of inertia had kept me moving in the same direction, and So I was off the bike.
My body and my uncle’s bike kept moving in two directions till they stopped after a while. Both of us were flat. On the road. I guess the traffic all around had stopped. The bike was going to lay there flat. Till someone was going to lift it up. So I tried to see if at least I could get up. Wonderful. I could. I picked the helmet. The now broken helmet. Few guys came. They asked me if I was okay. I told them I was. I hoped I was. I picked up the bike. The engine had turned off. I brought it back to neutral. i started the engine. Everything seemed to be working. The headlight. The brake. The gears. The only thing that was visibly disoriented was the leg-guard. I checked if it would obstruct any kind of motion. It wouldn’t. My backpack had my laptop. But at that moment, I had totally forgotten about it (and it was a relief to find it out later that it was safe).
The journey continued and a little after twelve in the night, I was back in home.
A small bruise on the elbow of the left hand. A small scratch on the kneecap of right leg. And a bit of swollen left toe, (which is still swollen and I cannot walk without limping). It was a nice escape. Oh, by the way, did I tell you this was my first bike accident? Yours truly has been driving bike even before he had a driving license. And after all these years, I was knocked off finally putting an end to my accident-free biking record. When I look back at what happened yesterday, the entire incident feels like the Road Rash game, where you fell down, get up, run back to the bike, pick it up and continue the journey.
Yesterday’s accident was a reflection of my own life. I have never really known, where to go. I keep asking people for directions and somehow end up reaching the right place. Apparently, the right place. But at times, during my
journey called life, things come and hit me and knock me down. And then I get up, brush off the dirt, and get back to continue the journey. The journey called life. 🙂
Some of these life-accidents so far in my life of little more than twenty years were minor ones. And some, so strong, that I lay unconscious for months before I could get back.
The journey continues!
Hey God, in case You read my blogs too, I have something to say to you. Just wait for some more time and if I really get fed up of this journey called life, I will come to You voluntarily. You won’t need any bus to call me up. So chill, man. Let me smoke a few more fags and let me live for a few more days. Catch you soon.