65 cubic centimeters of engine capacity, full automatic transmission, 7 horses of brutal power, aerodynamic designed and tested for least air resistance, amazing looks, jet-black………..just the things, which could make a bike fanatic, go crazy. Though I was a person who could do anything for speed, it wasn’t the bike that impressed me. Or was it…..?
There is something fascinating about females and automobiles. I have always been impressed with girls driving or riding, cos these are among others considered a male’s tart according to me. I don’t know what makes me believe that males are born with the uncanny knack of driving, comes in the blood the time a man is born, and females are gods at subtle arts like cooking and cleaning……they are meant for gentle things and they are great at another art, the art of getting anything done by what are called “tears”. [ And guys who don’t know how to ride a bike or drive a car or look at a profession that keeps them in the kitchen, must look for a crash course in “The most painful ways of killing oneself”, a compilation of 5001 ways of killing self in the cruelest and painful ways]
So here was a bike every real guy would kill for, and I was some how not looking at the bike, it was the rider that impressed me. It was very unlike me to do such a thing….. I agree that girls, I used to look at, but given a choice between a gorgeous girl and a awesome automobile, it was the automobile for me. I couldn’t help it, I was a MAN. But there was something about this rider, something I had never seen in a girl, something I had never seen in a bike. I had fallen in love, and this time it wasn’t a Ferrari or a Hyabusa.[For the guys who haven’t heard these names, please work on the killing yourselves part, the world could do without guys like you]
She wasn’t the “ drop dead looks ” kind of a girl. She was no Jennifer Anniston nor was a Meg Ryan. Actually not many people agreed that she was good looking. Infact as far as I can remember, there was only one other guy who agreed with me. I could reveal his name but currently he is busy with a book called “The most painful ways of killing oneself”, apparently he didn’t satisfy one of the rules of being a Real Man. Anyway, both of us could go on about her and her looks and her attitude and her likes and her dislikes all day long. There was something that both of us had seen that the others hadn’t.
When she sat on her bike, Man, could she make it fly? She would release the throttle and her bike would zip past. And I, being a male chauvinist couldn’t imagine my bike being any less then hers. I had to buy a better bike…….something that could at least save my face in front of her. Actually I got a new bike, 134.7cc, 12 horses, 4 speed manual transmission, jet black…….but it was no match for hers. The only thing in my bike, which could get as close to hers was the colour. Now everyone knew that I had got the bike for her. Though it was true, I always disagreed with them. I didn’t want anyone to think of me as one of those guys who do everything for girls. It was not good, for, I had built an image of being anti love, anti female and anti god. Now it was god alone who could save me from all of this. Irony L
All the attitude I had about life, was out of the window. She made me realize a lot of things. It was not that I had a number of baseless conversations in the millions of coffee bars and restaurants spending my money for me to attain the nirvana. Infact I hadn’t even spoken to her. [The “me not speaking to her” holds good as on the day this matter was written. For updates, contact can be made with the author]. It was just the sight of her that made me more literate, not a b c literate, but life literate. Her one glance was enough for me to write a “bhagavd gita”. Not that I didn’t want to speak to her. I would say that an opportunity had not come up but it actually is that I hadn’t been able to muster the courage to go and have my first words with her, the words which would make my life worth while.
Well, all stories have to end….generally all stories have a fairy tail ending. Well that’s not true in my life, it never has been. I was good, but never the best, in anything….sports, intelligence, riding, studies [ please note that I have mentioned studies because though not very logical, the world demands you to do extremely well academically. Its okay if you mug up the stuff and throw up all the crap in the three hour testing space the people have designed]. It was the same case with her. I don’t know how he made it work but the guy whose name I refused to mention earlier, the guy working on the book, ended up with her. Well that also brought an end to our acquaintance. I could not be nice to a man who stole my life….. my love. And I am hoping that the don’t live happily “ever after”. If I cant be happy, no one should be….it’s a dog eat dog world. Well I deserve it though, remember I am not the best.