Episode 25 : The ride back home

Friday, December 02, 2005.

'According to the weather forecast, it is going to rain heavily at night. And there may be heavy winds as well. Why don't you stay at your sister's place?', Mama Hyde had suggested.

'I'll be quite alright. I get wet in the rain anyway. I'll be home by 11. It shouldn't take long at the dentist's place.' I was due for a set of temporary teeth.

As expected, I left the clinic by 10pm. Taking the light rain into consideration, I expected to be home by 11. Just like I said.

Most of the route towards home was fine, barring a few places where water level was high enough to allow passing vehicles to splash water on me. One thing I have noticed in the city is, in spite of having heavy rains and the apparent water logging, if rain eases out in the next 12 hours, the water level comes down.

As I reached the last 3-kilometre stretch, I began to see heavy vehicles standing in a line, waiting to move ahead. If there is a traffic congestion, it has to be one of the following-

1. An accident.
2. A breakdown.
3. Road repairs.

Or in this case, water logging. The road ahead curved low before climbing again. And enough rain water had accumulated to deter almost all drivers from moving ahead. They chose to turn into the Old Trunk Road.

I did not see all this till I reached the turning towards the Old Trunk Road. I was looking at the road ahead as I was taking the turn. Marvelling in horror (if that is possible) at the water that had collected, while in two minds as to whether I should plunge through the water for some adventurous riding or just take the easier way out.

At that moment, I heard a loud splash and felt the bike take a plunge. I had forgotten about a ditch and had turned into it instead of the road.

Fortunately for me, I did not lose my balance. And concentrated on trying to keep a cool head while avoiding all thoughts of another broken bone.

Old Trunk Road was no different. Water had collected there as well, and I had no option but to continue riding. There is nothing you can do when the bus driver behind you decides to honk continuously if you stop moving.

Moving in first gear on a Royal Enfield is always a pleasure. It was enhanced by the added difficulty of the moving current. I knew as long as I kept moving, the bike would not stall and was determined not to put my foot on the ground as well.

The effort paid off and I soon returned to the main road. It was close to 11 when I reached the railway gate near home. Another 2 kilometres and I would be safe. But the gate had to open. Then I heard passersby talk.

The heavy rainfall had played havoc with the gate mechanism. All the gate mechanisms in the vicinity were stuck.

After waiting for half an hour or so (could have been one hour too), I called home and told the folks about the situation. I could have walked home, but I did not want to leave the bike behind.

I was hoping against hope that the gate would miraculously open and allow all vehicles to move. After 45 minutes of waiting at that spot, it looked unlikely. Rain had begun to fall again and water was slowly seeping into my rain suit.

That's when a biker began to talk about taking the next gate up the line. He was confident it would be open. Seeing no other choice (my bike was too tall to go under the gate), I decided to follow him.

The road ahead was no different from the one that I had left behind. Buses, cars and bikes sliced their way slowly, frequently slowed down by the rising waves created by vehicles moving in the opposite direction. I had confidence on my bike that it could see me through, but I did not have the confidence that I would be seated on it that long!

I kept following the nameless biker till the next gate. I was overjoyed at seeing an opening through which I could ride the bike. And the gate at the opposite end seemed tall enough to let my bike go under it without posing any problem.

I was wrong. Firstly, it was at the right height to stop me from moving under it easily. Secondly, I needed determination and enough strength to tilt a 170kg bike without scratching it in any way.

By the time I got to the other end, I ended up scraping the rubber off the left footrest. At least, the paint remained intact. When I looked up, the nameless biker had disappeared.

I felt lost. In a place I had been to a long time ago, and in broad daylight. There was one way, the shortest one, but one stretch of that road did not inspire confidence in me.

I asked a passerby the way to go to my place. He pointed the route I already knew about and warned me about the bad stretch possibly being worse. Any other way, I asked. There are other ways, but considerably worse thanks to the rain, he said.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. I could have stayed back at the gate. Or I could have left my bike by the gate and gone home. But no, I had to make things worse for me!

I asked the passerby a way to go the suburb near my place. He told me I could take the 100feet Road. That meant going half way up the shortest route to go home. He assured me the 100feet Road would be in better shape. So would the shortest route till the turn-off to the 100feet Road.

Emboldened, I moved forward at a reasonable speed. The road is good, so there should not be any problem.

Wrong! Before I realised it, I was in and out of two potholes in quick succession. I immediately cut down the speed to 20kmph. That was a lesson learnt quickly.

The 100feet Road is only a few minutes from the gate, but that night it seemed a long distance away.

The part of the road by the turn-off had turned slushy, thanks to the construction work that never seems to end there. Thankfully the soil below it was hard, and there was another passerby whose footsteps I followed faithfully. If he can get across safely, so can I.

I was soon at the turn-off.

The road ahead looked dark, and thanks to the rain, my spectacles had begun to mist over. Riding slowly, I started on the 100feet Road.

I should be home soon, I told myself.

To be continued...