Jinxed.

26 n counting.

The weather is really conducive to add to my tally of accidents. Wet roads, pathetic road sense of Bangaloreans. All Schumi n Rossi wannabes.

Still at my exciting job of “Staring at the monitor”. Try it out. Its awesomely mind-numbing.
No work. Sitting n pondering over my extensive collection of accidents.
Its hard to remember each n every one, but the ones i do remember are so clear in my head that to this day I have sleepless nights.

Yikes.

The permutations and combinations of accidents. How many types of accidents can happen? As a wiseman said there are only 7 stories in this world. Every other story is just another modified, spiced up version of the 7 basic ones. Does this apply to accidents also?

100kmph, 0 kmph.
Bike, scooter or on foot.
Dry roads n wet roads.
Highways n busy streets.
Humans n animals.

Anymore combinations or participants? I have no idea. Will find out I am sure.

Somehow I am always fascinated with symmetry(n it aint the reason I am straight). This need for symmetry has invariably left symmetrical scars on my body. Fun to see them n remember each incident. Shoulders, elbows, palms, waist, knees, toes. The biggest scar is on my neck. Absolutely amazing the way I got it. Hilarious. But if it had gone wrong even a bit I wudnt have been writing this.

Elaborating on all my accidents wil take up so much of my “valuable” work time. Will do that eventually.

For now its fun to write this blog cos at this time its my only option to stay awake.

“The show must go on”.

It will, I am very sure n on this road I will always tread alone.

Life

Can life be complete?
Yes n No.

Yes, if all ur needs and desires are fulfilled.
No, because as humans our desires have no end.

Contradictory? Yes, very much so.

At 23, my life seems complete.
Gr8 parents, friends, money(i am human, i still need more) and Love.

All these years i have always learned to enjoy every part of my life to the fullest. Wats the point of waiting for that ultimate joy and miss out on the small elements of fun each day has to offer.

A smoke, chat with friends, good food(aaaah), bike rides, playing games, lazing away, movies, drinking, coffee(a lot can really happen over a cup of coffee :P) and many more things.

Why am I writing this?
Am I a writer? Am I a “Litty-Shitter”? NO.

The sole reason for me writing this piece is because I don’t have anything else to do. Why? Because all the aforementioned things have somehow vanished from my so called “working, responsible” life.

Damn. I am a Software engineer. It aint that bad, but right now I am sitting in front of the comp staring at the monitor. This has been happening for the past 2 weeks. How long can a person sit at one place and stare at the monitor. Yuck. Very Yuck.

I look forward to my weekends with such greed that it amuses me. Gone are the days when I used to spend each day loafing arnd. Now I have to “schedule” my loafing arnd activities. Absolutely amazing.

Thank heavens that I have a gr8 bunch of friends to be with at the end of each day. A special person to spend time with.

And food. How can I not mention food. Sick n tired of eating at restaurants. I crave for home made food so bad.

Hmmm…….wat have I written till now??? Do I have any clue as to wat this post is all about? No. Do u? if yes lemme know.

Adios Amigos.

I am off to my ultra-exciting job of “Staring at the monitor”.

And I read this post again to see wat it means. I am lost.

But is my life complete. Can I still wear Raymonds clothes and proudly say “The complete man”???????????

I eat my own words

A blank mind.

Needs stimulation to get back to crazy normalcy.

My baby, back from the hospital(garage) after an extensive surgery. For a few months it had been giving me pain, albeit not physically. There was absolutely no pleasure RIDING her. Needed to test her credentials after the surgery.

Off i went towards the highway. Do i sound repetitive with the highway stuff? Fuck who cares. I love that piece of tarmac. With 70 bucks in the wallet, with no thoughts in the head, my whole being automatically heads towards open roads. 50 bucks worth of fuel and off i go.

After many months of pain, my baby sounds good. She doesnt choke. She revs hard. She accelerates harder. Traffic? What the hell. When my baby roars, others move out. They better.

I am blown over again by its performance. It had been a long long time since i enjoyed her. She's back and i love every bit of her. She is still not absolutely perfect, but almost there. The ton reached in under 8 secs. Twists and turns which were a nightmare all these days, now smoothen out themselves as if they were carved with my baby in mind. I am ecstatic. Really.

I take back my words. I did not want to ride my p180 after the shogun experience. But now i want to enjoy my bike all over again. Now i can say the shogun aint no match for my black beauty.

I take back my words about 4-strokes being somewhat like wives and 2-strokes being a hot, bitchy, spicy, sexy girl. Well if the 4-stroke wife is like CARMEN ELECTRA and SALMA HAYEK combined who cares about a hot, bitchy, spicy, sexy girl. A 2-stroke is like a morning quickie. Done ASAP. But in the longer version of the game you need speed, stability, screams, superior handling. A 2-stroke cannot, i repeat, cannot provide that.

AAAAH. 50 kms of fast paced action has got me back to those good old days of ABSOLUTE MADNESS. The KUL knows that phase of mine. It feels good. Really good.

All you posers, get your ass on the road now. I am ready to show you who's the boss and it certainly aint the shogun.

Its ME.

Stinking Insanity

Stinkwheels.

A biker's mantra: Mad rush, Gut-Wrenching speed, Insanity.

Ask any rider, any real rider. He will swear by the power of a two-stroker.
A four-stroke.............BORING.

Riding a 2 stroke gives a man such uninhibited, unmatched, unrelenting pleasure. It just has to be experienced to believe.

A 2 stroke is like a hot, bitchy, spicy, sexy girl. A 4 stroke is like a wife.

And in INDIA there are only 2 2-strokers which actually provide that kinda pleasure.

The legendary RD-350 and the SHOGUN.

I had the pleasure of riding a stonking SHOGUN today. My friend bought a Shogun, got it to my house. Since then i hav had my hands to its keys like a fat kid having his hands on a cup-cake. I am blown away, literally and figuratively. The mad rush of this well maintained Shogun easily outdoes the refined, smooth nature of my Pulsar 180.

Speeding through the road at an alarming rate. The rush. Popping a wheelie in 3rd gear(with a pillion). Can any other bike match this? A BIG NO.

The Shogun was built with one and only one thing in mind. Power. Speed. Acceleration.
And to beat the Yamaha rx-100. Did it do the job? Fuck yeah. It can put any, absolutely any bike to shame apart from the king, RD-350. The Shogun delivers raw power at two intervals. The first installment at 4000rpm, this is still acceptable, by Shogun standards. Still accelerating hard. As soon as the engine hits 7000 rpm, the next power rush. And this time its unrelenting. Absolutely amazing. I could feel myself being thrown off the bike.


I have gone absolutely bonkers riding this amazing machine. I dont want to ride my Pulsar 180 anymore. I want a stonking stinkwheel. I want a Shogun.

Shogun=Boss.

It sure was, is and will remain so.
It has a special place in the hearts of all true-blue bikers.

HAIL THE BOSS.

2 Days, 550 Kms, tired?? no fuckin way..........

DAY 1 BEGINS....

Grandpa: listen, i have to attend this annual function at my village. Can u take me?
Me: of course grandpa, i can. Well i dont have anything else to do.

The plan set. 2oo kms away from Bangalore, to my ancestral village. Annual ceremony at a temple.

I get up at 6 am. damn. I hate getting up early. But the thought of driving for such a long distance wakes me up even before the alarm goes off. Neatly dressed, getting in the car, I head to my grandpa's place.

We leave Bangalore at 7.30 am. Me, grandpa and some irritating distant cousin(whom I got to know only a few months back). NH4. Empty. Smooth. Grandpa in a total trance about going to his village and attending a holy ceremony. I speed. 70-80-90-100-110-115 kmph. Morning weather and an amazing stretch. What else can a 23 year old speed freak for? (well better company wud have been better). Reach my hometown, Tumkur, at 8.30.

Breakfast at my other cousin's place. As time passes by, grandpa starts getting restless. He has to reach the village before 12. We leave my cousin's place at 9.30. Purchasing flowers, sweets, etc etc we finally head towards this village. The smoothness of NH4 gives way to what can be best described as a dirt track meant for off-roading. And we are in a Maruti 800. :( . I have 2 hours to cover 120 kms. Bad roads, maniacal truck and bus drivers, lazy villagers. I start to question myself, "why did i agree to take up this journey?". Without another thought, i floor the throttle even on bad roads, not giving way to ANYBODY. Atleast my other cousin kept me company. The car being so unstable. I still speed. Too much speeding? Well its in my blood.

Two hours of high speed, high levels of concentration, we reach the village. At 12. Exact. I turn towards grandpa and say, "thatha, we are on time. Now relax." The pleased look on the old man's face on reaching HIS village took away all the frustration of driving on bad roads. Glad that i could help my grandpa. Leaving him and the irritating guy(IG) at the temple, where they are joined by other village elders, me and my cousin go for our FAGS. Much needed ones. Parked outside the village under a tree, smoking, aaah, life.

Lunch at the IG's place. Oh man. Simple, yet so sumptuous. I hog, like there's no tomorrow. Then head out again for our after-lunch fags. We leave the IG's place at 3. Grandpa wants to visit all the temples in that village. He thinks this will be the last time he can possibly visit. So we head to 3 more temples. Well, finishing the appointment with GOD, we finally leave the village. Grandpa totally satisfied. And me too that i could help him out. But all the time only one thing lingered on in my mind, the next day's biking trip.

Bad roads become worse when there's lack of solar power. But it was a relaxed drive. No issues of reaching home early. Finally come back to my cousin's place at 8.30. Aunt, grandpa forcing me to stay and leave tomorrow. But i was adamant and left for Bangalore.

Driving alone at night is such a relief, from the daily grind of life. Cool breeze blowing, heading back to an empty home(parents outta town, yippeee), smoke in hand. Words can never express that feeling. Stop at a roadside dhaba. Chai and cigs, talking to my love, FUN never stops in my life. The best was yet to come. Cigs in hand, outdragging a better, powerful vehicle is such an EGO BOOST. The look on that driver's face being beaten by a guy driving a Maruti 800, was priceless.

Get home, exhausted, but satisfied. A shower, dinner(lovingly packed by my aunt) and a call to my confused zoo inmate. Sleep. Finally.

DAY 1 ENDS.

DAY 2 BEGINS......

Getting up at 9, i feel fresh. Eager to head out, again. This time with the right company. I arrange for my friend's bike(my baby was confiscated by 81). And jingle gets to my area. Smoke with him. Me and jingle head home. I get ready. the Kul finally arrives with Malvika. We leave my home towards Kul's "Sasural".
3 Bikes, 5 young souls, head out to enjoy a day of riding. Someone was missed a lot.

Out on the highway, the highway to heaven, we speed. (again? hell yeah). Stopping at places me and the Kul call our "Fag and pic" spots. Smokes, posing for pics. The fun never stopped. My mind was working overtime, talking non-stop, one-liners, pj's. Nothing "intellectual", well i am incapable of that.

My confidence in riding bikes was back. Thanks to a super stable and fast bike and a bigger thanks to one of the best pillions, Malvika. Salaam. Weaving in and out, taking corners, the screams of a 2-stroker, oh damn i am blessed with too many good things in life.

Lunch at a place called "Hotel Down Town Sagar". Lunch was good. Again a few fags and pics.
Head out onto the road.

CCD. Coffee. Cigs. Chat. More jokes. More laughter.
And then there is an epidemic. Damn. Everybody in CCD gets this sudden craving for bloody Black forest. Kids, parents, everyone. I am surrounded by Black forest. yuck.
Atleast i had good company.

Leaving CCD at 5.30 pm, hitting the road, i get this tunnel vision. All i can see is the road and vehicles. No fear. Just no fear. Been a long long time since i have not been scared of riding fast. And with an amazing pillion, all 3 bikes are taken close to their limits. All this while I am worried about how things are going on in a distant land.

Back to Bangalore. One phone call. I am happy that everything went well in the distant land.
On Shilpa's terrace, we go through the same routine. Chai, cigs and chatter. Jingle getting angry at a certain individual. Laughter, that never seemed to end.

And the day came to an end. Did it? NO.

Dinner at a friend's place. Fags on the terrace at 12. A long talk with the Confused Inmate.

Heading back home, head full of ever-lasting memories. Rest. Much needed. Physically tired but mentally feeling fresh as ever.

2 Days, 550 kms, Tired??? Absolutely no fucking way.

Biking - Elixir to my soul.

Waking up everyday, there are only a few things that immediately pop into my, mostly empty, brain. The thought of having my first smoke and riding my bike.

Helmet in hand, I step out of the house. And i look at my baby for the first time in the day. All black, glistening in the sun, inviting me to get it on. The moment i sit on her, all the grogginess of a still sleepy mind vanish. Turning on the ignition and bringing my baby to life, feels like i am back to what i do best, ENJOY LIFE. The sexy, meaty and invigorating roar of my baby starts to make the mind feel instantly better. Blipping the throttle, the feeling has to be just experienced.

Out of the garage, on the road. Putting it in gear, checking one last time if all is right, BLAST OFF.
Speed climbing, so is the feel good factor. Carving through traffic as if i am a renaissance sculptor, passing silly, stupid people on puny machines, MY EGO STARTS TO SWELL. Then an empty stretch of black, inviting tarmac. Without another thought, wringing every ounce of performance my baby can deliver, i charge, and some more. Reaching triple digit speeds in no time, going so very near to the edge, I FEEL FREE. Free of all happiness, of all worries, of everything.

And life sometimes gives more than the regular dosage of happiness. And i ride with my pal, the KUL, on the highway, the highway to heaven.
Both so much in love, with their amazing machines, trying to outdo each other, our babies screaming with pleasure. We reach heaven.

And I am served with my ELIXIR.

shit happens