Nothing much

I have always been told that I should be blogging more often. Even though there were enough and more subjects for me to write about, there was this feeling that whatever I write is not up to the mark, rather substandard. This thought had actually pulled me back from publishing quite a few posts last year, when I was having my longest running ‘bout’ of writing. Talking of bouts, I have these quite frequently. It can be anything- writing, cooking, even needle work. Anything which can provide me with a creative outlet. These bouts never last for more than a couple of weeks, one month being the tops. But the most consistent of them has been that of blogging. But I have never been able to satisfy my ego with these writing skills and sustain the urge to write more. Maybe the benchmark was a bit high as I had been exposed to quite a bit of literature myself, as a reader. Whatever be the reason, a couple of years after starting the blog, all the fire subsided and all I was left with was a link that no one bothered to check anymore.

Then came the emotional upheaval that I was waiting for. I don’t want to get into the details, let’s just say that I wanted to prove ‘something’ to ‘someone’. I went back again to blogs and surprisingly, I found them rather good! Okay, that was a U-turn from whatever I said in the beginning, totally agree. But that IS the truth. I was like, going through each and every entry and actually, yes, actually wholeheartedly liking them. For the first time in my life, I felt good about my capability to write. The critique in me was impressed by what had been published in the blog. Be it the stories or the write-ups or the reviews, I felt everything deserved to be put in ‘good’ category. Let me tell you, that amazement and joy, it was incredible. Recognition and approval from others is necessary for the betterment of any writer. In my case, I craved for approval from myself. And now, I think I have finally earned it. Now I can write more freely without worrying about the promptness of choice of words. Or the flow of prose. Because I know, if not today, some day this will blow my mind away.

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Back to where I belong

I have always been a speed junkie and earlier too I mentioned it in the blogs. But this time, the experience went up a notch higher- I could literally feel the POWER. Now I know why all guys go gaga over Royal Enfield. To be honest, I was totally (and uncharacteristically) nervous and jumpy. The Avenger pillion-riding days seemed like long, long ago. I had actually forgotten how to climb on with as much grace as possible. And the fact that the person driving is my lead, didn't really help either. So inevitably, the climbing proved to be a disaster. And let me be frank- I didn't like it at all. There were those pipe-like fittings(sorry dj, can't name them, so much for being the wife of a mechanical engineer) that threatened to scratch against my legs each time I tried to shift to be more comfortable. But once the ride started, I became less and less concerned about those trivial issues. All the 'wind-brushing-against-the-face' was old news. It was like traveling right THROUGH a gale. I had to literally close my eyes and sit with my face buried in the bag.It takes around 15 minutes from Talawade to Bhel Chowk, where I was supposed to get down. And the day-time traffic in Talawade-Nigdi road is reminiscent of crowded Calcutta streets. But despite being heavy, the Bullet turned out to be a marvel when it comes to maneuvering through the clogged suburban roads. I used to dislike the reverberating noise of the Bullet; but to my surprise, all I could hear was the wind. In the middle of the ride, one thing caught my attention- the passerby's eyes are always fixated on the Bullet. It has always been a symbol of Indian machismo, with stars staring from Vinod Khanna to Sanjay Dutt flaunting their Bullets. And not to forget, the rural 'thanedar' sporting the Ray-Ban + Bullet + Mustache trilogy to spell masculinity. In that moment, I thanked the heavens for our decision of NOT getting a Bullet and going for Avenger instead.

Let me explain that point a little. In Chennai I had at least 4-5 relatives who lived in different parts of the city ranging from Anna Nagar to Adyar. And needless to say, all of them had a doubt that I am going around with this person. Due to my dubious distinction as a rebellious kid, they had predicted(and may be dreaded) that I will end up marrying a 'boyfriend'. Hearing bits and pieces of the hushed whispers which stopped the moment I entered the room, I sort of understood my relatives' plan: they will keep their eyes open for any unexplained 'sightings'. In simple words, I was at risk of exposure. And we had no plans to spill the beans at my house as yet. Imagine the shock of my ______ uncle,if while checking out a Bull he finds ME in the backseat!!! We had to tread carefully. So we needed a bike which would serve the purpose of cruising, but won't attract as much attention as the Bull. Avenger seemed to fit the bill and bingo!! For the 3 years that we were in Chennai, 'sheru'(as we fondly call the Ave) carried us around. Now in Pune, after all this time, riding the Bull brought all those memories flooding back..And here I am, hitting the blog once again...Like in the case of Golmaal, I guess all of you can gear up for a third-time revival of the mavericks...the guy, the girl(that's me) and the cat on the wall.

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