Episode 328 : The last days of 2011- 3

December 31, 2011

There are many ways one can return to Bangalore from Pondicherry. I wasn't going to return via Madras, so the next shortest route I could think of was to connect to Vellore from Mahabalipuram. And then depending on available light, through the two-laned roads from there to Kolar or on the boring four-laned roads to Krishnagiri.

Sporting a helmet with a tinted visor on unlit roads is never a good idea, and I had not expected to be riding after sunset. 'It is Pondicherry, what can go wrong?'

That morning, after I managed to get to Pondicherry from Auroville, it appeared as if the entire town was out to fill their motorcycles and cars. I must have gone past at least 4 fuel stations before I found one on the outskirts that had only 4-5 motorcycles in a queue.

I already had plenty enough fuel to reach Bangalore. But the impending price rise, and the availability of cheaper petrol at Pondicherry made me stop. Five hundred rupees worth of petrol was all I needed to fill the tank.

In 2005, I had gone off on my own to Pondicherry, with a newly-acquired Garud. There is a long bridge over the backwaters between Marakannam and Alamparai. As the road curves off the bridge, I had been stopped by two constables and my baggage was checked to make sure I wasn't carrying alcohol from Pondicherry.

When I entered the bridge, I was reminded of the incident. And as I turned off the bridge, I found three cops waiting at the checkpost. I complied when they flagged me down, and pulled off the road.

'Open your bags' the senior one barked at me. I dismounted the motorcycle, resigned to yet another search, and began unstrapping the luggage.

'Oh, a TN registration. Tamizh-aa?' he asked. I said yes.

'Where are you coming from?' he asked. 'Auroville' I replied.

The response was unexpected. 'Oh then it is alright, you can go'. Breathing a sigh of relief, I got back on the bike.

'How much mileage do you get?' one cop asked.
'I get close to 40 now'
'Really? What is the engine? 350?' another asked.
'Yes'

They fell silent.

'Happy new year' I said as I kick-started.

'Same to you, same to you' they chorused. As I began to move, they almost saluted me.

I almost fell off the motorcycle, laughing.

* * * * *

I had hardly crossed another two kilometres when the motorcycle began to act funny. The rear wheel felt soft, as if it was sliding sideways. But it felt firm enough to keep moving. After another kilometre that tested my nerves, I pulled over to check.

The rear tyre was flat. Unlike the Mysore road incident, which threw me off the motorcycle, and the incident outside Srinagar which threatened to repeat the fall, this one was tame.

But I was annoyed for a different reason. I had once boasted to a colleague that there will always be a mechanic nearby when I need help. The sun was blazing down on me, I was on the highway with a punctured rear tyre and I could see no mechanic in sight.

I shook my fist at the sky and, uncharacteristically, swore.

'There is a mechanic just a kilometre ahead' a passerby shouted to me from across the road.

Like I had once told a colleague, there is always a mechanic nearby.

I heaved, panted and pushed the motorcycle to the shop. It isn't easy when you are armoured for the road, the motorcycle is laden with luggage and the morning sun beats down on you with a rage that was missing the previous day.

There was no one at the shop, but the signboard had his number.

'I saw you pushing your bike. I will return in a few minutes time. Please wait' he told me.

Around 40 minutes later, I was on my way again, wondering if the fix would last till Bangalore. At a restaurant midway between Mahabalipuram and Pondicherry, aptly called Mid-way, the proprietor suggested taking a left turn just after Kalpakkam to connect to Chengalpattu and then to take the road to Kanchipuram from there. That would take me onto the road to Vellore.

While I had lunch, the said gentleman kindly agreed to let me charge my phone. Even if I did not have to make a call, I could check Google Maps online. I never thought of bringing a map along. It is just Pondicherry, remember?

It was mid-afternoon when I entered Kanchipuram, one of my pitstops during the Bangalore-Madras-Bangalore days. As I entered the town, I noticed a dog on the other side of the road looking to cross it. I decided I could give it some credit for intelligence because it stopped after noticing me. The next thing I knew, the dog bounded across the road.

There was no time to honk and no time to brake. I tried to avoid the dog by moving away, while it decided to quicken its speed to get away from me. A collision was destined; a repeat of that day in 2005.

I remember hitting and then running over the dog, I remember hearing the dog yelp continuously in pain, I remember looking blankly at the road ahead. I remember expecting to fall any moment. But when I looked down, I saw my right foot bearing my weight and that of the motorcycle, and my right boot grazing the mud path leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

I did not fall, but if anything else had also decided to cross, I would not have succeeded in maintaining my balance. The adrenaline coursing through my veins made sure I crossed another kilometre before I could piece the event together in my head.

I did not turn back to check on the dog. I didn't see any use.

* * * * *

I got out of Kanchipuram. I went past Vellore. The sun was beginning to set as I cut through Ambur. Soon it would be dark, the speeds would have to come below 60.

But I found that I could still see enough to be able to manage speeds in the 70s. Darkness fell, but the lights of other cars, buses and trucks lit up my path. I was back in the 80s.

I had always wanted to be riding on a highway on December 31st, but never managed to be on a road after sunset. As I was grabbing a meal of egg-dosa at Krishnagiri, I remembered my wish of being on a highway on New Year's Eve. I thought to myself that this is probably the closest I will get to it.

It was 9.45pm when I reached home. I could have delayed my arrival for another two hours, but I think it is better done some other day. That day, the stars, the highway and I will wish each a happy new year.

Maybe the plan of 2011 was to remind me of my two crashes. Maybe the intent was to show that it doesn't have to be as bad as it was then. Maybe there was no intent.

2011 ended safely. Perhaps that is all that matters.

Afterthought: http://imgur.com/gallery/VdS6S is similar to the way I regained my balance when I hit the dog except that I was balancing on one leg and wasn't doing over 70kmph.