Last week I got caught in the mother of all jams. In all my life of riding my bike I am yet to have come across one that physically sapped me like the one I endured that day, on my way to office. I can safely say that the speedometer refused to climb above 10km/hr for a stretch of 6 kms.
As I sat on my bike, fuming and mentally cursing no body in particular, I thought about ways to keep myself occupied. If it was another lucky day I’d have had my mp3 plugged to my ears rendering soulful songs. But alas! When this super infuriating jam was to take place how in the world could fate have rewarded me with a comfortable portal that’d transport me to another blissful world?
So I sat on my bike, studiously avoiding glances of curious fellow travelers who seem to think the best way to beat the jam is to look at what people were doing while waiting out the clearance of congestion. So I decided to watch the vehicles instead. Lo and behold I saw an impressive dark blue Nissan Xtrail parked next to me. Its glossy paint and sleek lines got me drooling and I must say the saliva dripping from my mouth gave a good competition to the sweat dribbling down my neck. (I can’t believe that this lovely cool climate we have been facing this week is real!)
But I had to quickly bring my attention back to the road as it was becoming something similar to a war ground…only here; instead of missiles and guns we had the ‘truly awesome bound to make the most thick skinned enemies cringe’ type of weapon – our vehicle horns! There were the angry short blasts which convey to the fellow in front if he was cutting in the other’s path, then of course the insistent droning honk which was for the benefit of any body who’d dared to simply enjoy the jam by shutting their engine and roast in the mid morning heat, (as if!) preventing others from moving their vehicles an inch forward, and then of course the chorus honks which was intended to anything or anybody who had the audacity to start the jam in the first place. In this case I think the blame should be placed in front of actor turned politician Vijaykanth’s door, who, I think was having some kind of a function which by the looks of it had started from his home. I somehow managed to cross about 4km with out getting into anybody’s path or earning dirty looks, when my eyes feasted on a beautiful dark grey BMW. Oh that beauty! This time I didn’t let it out of my sight which was no easy feat coz being a two wheeler driver I could maneuver many improbable gaps and race ahead which the poor sedan couldn’t or wouldn’t consider. Not that I blame him. One scratch on the gleaming paint could mean quite a heart break to the owner. Thank god I was not him. I would probably take my BMW with a accident-proof bubble around it. So it was that I held up traffic by going slower to accommodate the car. Of course such impertinence wouldn’t go unpunished. The honking started and so did the cuts in front of my bike.
Once I reached vadapalani I heaved a huge sigh of relief and was quite willing to let my bike fly. I could understand how it must be to remain cooped for so long in hot sweltering conditions, as, I had just passed this terrible jam, pulling my limbs in, sucking my breath in and not letting any tiny miniscule of my body out side the radius of my bike, lest it gets chopped away by busy commuters. I must say I am proud of my driving skills; after all I managed to come out of the battle unscarred if not a bit withered despite the long refreshing morning bath. I could boast of fobbing the big bullies off and matching the cut for cut and honking the next person to near deafness.
So what if this jam is tough to swallow, I shall plaster it on my bread and gobble it down. I have a huge appetite!
As I sat on my bike, fuming and mentally cursing no body in particular, I thought about ways to keep myself occupied. If it was another lucky day I’d have had my mp3 plugged to my ears rendering soulful songs. But alas! When this super infuriating jam was to take place how in the world could fate have rewarded me with a comfortable portal that’d transport me to another blissful world?
So I sat on my bike, studiously avoiding glances of curious fellow travelers who seem to think the best way to beat the jam is to look at what people were doing while waiting out the clearance of congestion. So I decided to watch the vehicles instead. Lo and behold I saw an impressive dark blue Nissan Xtrail parked next to me. Its glossy paint and sleek lines got me drooling and I must say the saliva dripping from my mouth gave a good competition to the sweat dribbling down my neck. (I can’t believe that this lovely cool climate we have been facing this week is real!)
But I had to quickly bring my attention back to the road as it was becoming something similar to a war ground…only here; instead of missiles and guns we had the ‘truly awesome bound to make the most thick skinned enemies cringe’ type of weapon – our vehicle horns! There were the angry short blasts which convey to the fellow in front if he was cutting in the other’s path, then of course the insistent droning honk which was for the benefit of any body who’d dared to simply enjoy the jam by shutting their engine and roast in the mid morning heat, (as if!) preventing others from moving their vehicles an inch forward, and then of course the chorus honks which was intended to anything or anybody who had the audacity to start the jam in the first place. In this case I think the blame should be placed in front of actor turned politician Vijaykanth’s door, who, I think was having some kind of a function which by the looks of it had started from his home. I somehow managed to cross about 4km with out getting into anybody’s path or earning dirty looks, when my eyes feasted on a beautiful dark grey BMW. Oh that beauty! This time I didn’t let it out of my sight which was no easy feat coz being a two wheeler driver I could maneuver many improbable gaps and race ahead which the poor sedan couldn’t or wouldn’t consider. Not that I blame him. One scratch on the gleaming paint could mean quite a heart break to the owner. Thank god I was not him. I would probably take my BMW with a accident-proof bubble around it. So it was that I held up traffic by going slower to accommodate the car. Of course such impertinence wouldn’t go unpunished. The honking started and so did the cuts in front of my bike.
Once I reached vadapalani I heaved a huge sigh of relief and was quite willing to let my bike fly. I could understand how it must be to remain cooped for so long in hot sweltering conditions, as, I had just passed this terrible jam, pulling my limbs in, sucking my breath in and not letting any tiny miniscule of my body out side the radius of my bike, lest it gets chopped away by busy commuters. I must say I am proud of my driving skills; after all I managed to come out of the battle unscarred if not a bit withered despite the long refreshing morning bath. I could boast of fobbing the big bullies off and matching the cut for cut and honking the next person to near deafness.
So what if this jam is tough to swallow, I shall plaster it on my bread and gobble it down. I have a huge appetite!
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