Saturday, 12 September 2015
Roads are like people
Ever since I became the owner of a new gearless bike, I’ve been promoted from a pillion rider to the one handling the vehicle. And the view? It’s much different. After the initial two months of shaky maneuvering, sudden brakes, and constant fear of killing myself, I’ve finally settled into the coats of a rider and the roads before me have emerged with new light.
I realized, roads are like people. Each one its own character, features and mood swings.
The stretch of road from my house to the next traffic signal is a hypocrite. The breeze blows dust off its seemingly calm body, with moments of complete silence. You blink once, or maybe watch a vine video and look up, the widening road- before a silent friend- is now bustling with cranky vehicles, the honking unbearable and the constant (I mean constant with a capital C) ambulances screeching in pain.
And there is this other road that I love riding through in evenings. Facing West, it is riding into the sunset, the sky stripped with the setting colors. It’s aesthetic qualities aside, I’m terrified of blinking on this road, lest I run over tiny human kids who wear grey uniforms and get camouflaged into the asphalt. People do not understand zebra crossing here nor that fact that a bike crashing into them can be fatal. No, they have all the luck in the world, time on their side and they run into the traffic with no care in the world. Scary, I tell you. You do not want to meet the personified version of this road, they will probably make life a living hell of unwanted surprises.
There is this road that transforms into a shallow river when it rains heavily. Thank you well designed drainage system. Venturing into this ensures you get a shower of muddy water splattered on you and you splatter the same muddy water on the next person. What do you call this person? Someone you want to see only on sunny days and ignore on overcast ones.
There are roads that just hate you. Like that one person in your school who glares at you every time even though you have no idea who they are. No matter how safe you try to ride, slowly and steadily, you are bound to make an error and get reprimanded by some stranger. Bad luck, I pin it to.
What’s the opposite of smooth, silky, straight stretches of roads? One spotted with potholes, humps and downs, and everything deadly. It is impossible to feel happy when you are on riding here. Your bones get rattled, your new bike takes a toll, and your love for the civic government body shrinks. This road is a person who needs some immediate grooming.
Not all is bad in the world of roads. Riding through a boulevard, the speed in your control, the bike rumbling under you, the wind whistling in your ears. This is the man you love.
And when it rains? Hanging out with your best friend! The muddy splashes aside and getting drenched. Celebrating the Christmas of traffic lights that is plethora of reds, the yellows, the green, and more red, lights that become brilliant in the rain.
You meet new people every day, new roads made acquaintances. People are stories, so are roads. To ride undisputed under the skies and the ground below gripping onto you. Steady. Sail. Fly.