Do you ever wonder what would have happened if the tarred road we travel on everyday had feelings? If it were impatient like me, it would bubble in the wrath of being trampled by a thousand wheels. The sense of being handicapped and not being able to do anything about it would not make things any better. Otherwise, it would have to be one of the most patient beings on earth to withstand the piercing heat of the sun or the heavy downpours without complaining.
I love my two-wheeler. When I sit on it and drive, I feel good. Sometimes the wind makes weird noises near my ears and I try to interpret them. It seems to me as if Mother Nature is whispering Her secrets to me and I make efforts to decrypt them, all in vain. But this is one of the many connections I feel with Her, and even though I don't understand a word, it makes me realize how much a part of Her I am. Dreamy, isn't it? Well, it doesn't take long for the connection to break. Screech and halt, lo and behold! I'm back in the "real world"! What is it made of? Just like being woken from a peaceful slumber, at first I see nothing but a dusty mist. And then it unveils. I can hardly open my eyes and I try to transfer my gaze to any direction that would not pierce my eyes with bright yellow spikes. There they are - people! While driving to office, most of my fellow drivers are doing the same, with their ID cards hanging around their necks or sticking out of their pockets. Obviously, this means they are in a hurry, just like I am. Reason? Meeting, training, urgent work they couldn't finish the previous evening, or probably just not wanting to miss breakfast. There are others too, but somehow they aren't in a leisurely mood either. Every driver looks for an excuse to move just an inch further, sometimes even by using the footpath. Poor pedestrians! Then we have people trying to cross the road, cursing the drivers, and vice versa. Oh, and how can I forget? There are always those two fools - one who has to announce his arrival by honking his way to glory, and the other who loves to rebel by driving on the wrong side in a one-way lane.
Cars, motorcycles, buses, bicycles - they are everywhere! Right from the most ancient model to the latest one, even those without a registration number. It's nice to drive a bike, but it's the waiting part that makes you wish you were sitting cozily inside a vehicle with an air conditioner. I glance at the signal for the hundredth time, and it looks like a stubborn kid whose face is swollen and red, having thrown a tantrum and refusing to budge. I wonder if it's too late to take my helmet off. It is suffocating! But then, the green light may flash any moment now! Or am I being too hopeful? I should not have let my hair loose, at least that would have reduced the sweating. My extra shirt, my gloves - do they prevent my hands from tanning or "preserve" the heat in my body? Now, it's getting more stuffy. I wait a few more seconds and remove my helmet, just as the signal turns green. If the honker guy is behind me, that's it, I'm done for. After putting on my headgear and getting pretty embarrassed over attempting a few failed ignition starts, I can finally feel the wind near my ears again. Yes, I'm almost there, praying that the signal doesn't turn red again. Well, what do you think? There I am, near the crossroad, and the plump little red-faced devil reappears. The beads of perspiration trickle down my neck and I wonder when the rains are going to start. Then I tell myself - be careful, you don't know what you are wishing for! That is a different battle I have to fight altogether, on the same battleground. Oh God, the later, the better!
