Analogikal

It was 3:15 AM.

I had just finished reading one of the most awe inspiring and truly profound books I have ever read. I stepped out on to my terrace and was welcomed by the chill that Bangalore offers and the silence that Bangalore yearns for. I took a deep breath. Enjoyed the silence and the sanity around me. The stars looked like little headlights in a distance. Uneven, directionless and random. I am thankful for this moment in time.

“Born to Run” is a masterpiece and it strikes a chord as an athlete, or a wannabee athlete. I took my own sweet time with it. I chewed and savored it like a good meal. Letting the flavors sink in. Well mostly I had been lazy and biding my time. And I loved doing it that way. Taking my time and choosing the pace at which I wanna go at. But then again, a big city with people stuck on the sick carousel of life does not let you slow down. You cannot be in Bangalore without shouting or being shouted at while on the road. It is like an episode of mad max meets good fellas. Loud, brash, lawless, fast and unforgiving. So trying to bide by all the rules and respecting the revered and camouflaged speed breakers obviously gets you into trouble. The trick is to blend into the chaos. Become one of them. Stop fighting the system and be a part of it. It takes skill. I will break it down for you. Firstly, you need to forget that you are driving on the street. Consider everywhere you go as your backyard. In which case you can drive the way you want. Park wherever the heck you want and abuse anyone you want because they have no business coming into your backyard. But of course, the flip side is that you are in somebody else’ backyard at the same time. Secondly, learn to be shameless. If you made a mistake, be proud of it. Mock the idiot who is not as shameless as you are. Thirdly, be loud and intimidating. There is nothing people love and respect more than someone who is loud and intimidating. Trust me. It works all the time. I learnt driving at the age of 26. And hence I drive like an old man. Well it was beautifully summed up by my flat mate “People need patience to sit behind you on the bike”.

Well I used to ride like a 4 year old who has just detached his training wheels. Careful, slow and rule abiding. Then slowly I got dragged into the rat race. I got fed up of people over taking me and honking me and rushing me every bit of the way. It was like standing in queue at a wine shop in Kerala, being hushed and pushed by people all around. Soon all of Bangalore had become my backyard. Trust me, the exhilaration you get when you cross the 100 km/hr threshold is long lasting. It is much like a pig’s orgasm; just lingering around even after the act is over. I took great pride in my ability to outrun the others on the road and the fact that nobody was honking and rushing me to move along. Well, that did not last long.

I am writing this to address my PTSD monsters. I was on my way to meet my brother. The electronic city flyover really helps your ride open its lungs and purr. I was whizzing past vehicles one after the other. I would pass them in a blur and the only thing that registered was the whizz of wind and a faint honk of disapproval. I overtook a car and zigzagged around a bus only to realise that I had miscalculated the speed of the bus ahead of me. I applied the breaks, slowing the bike down. I felt the back wheel move to one side. I knew what was happening. Time stopped still. I go back to this point in my mind every time I am on the road. I relive this moment as much as I hate to remember it. I felt the gravitational forces change. The world started blurring as my body left my bike and made contact with the hot tarmac. Around me all i could hear was the cacophony of crashing metal and fibre and the sheer pain of seared skin. I felt that moment would never end as the bike and i entangled in a dance of death. All that while my fear was if i don’t die from the fall, I would be run over by a vehicle from behind. I came to a halt with my hands held above my head praying to the drivers behind me to not run me over. My feet were entangled under the bike and my body was bashed up. But I was breathing.

It was white. All around. There was no noise. There was nothing to be seen. I could hear voices but could not identify what was being spoken. Every inch of my body hurt. The wind was cold and dry as it caressed the open wounds and my skin was more burnt than lacerated. By the time I regained some semblance of consciousness, I had lost a lot of blood. My hands were covered in blood and I had bloodied joints all over. I whined in pain as i was dragged to the hospital in a loud ambulance without being strapped in. I realized how the lotto balls felt while being tossed around. All I could think was how I could have died that moment. What was I racing for?

Well I think I know the answer.

The ride I was on is much like our lives. We have people passing us by at every milestone and we are always in a game of catch up. People honk us, brush us aside and intimidate us all along the way. We stop looking left and right. We put our head down and get into the race. We are the horse on the carousel of life. It struck me when the whole pressure to get married and settle down in life started hanging over my life. The argument was never about me being lonely or needing companionship. The argument was always about how somebody else had bought a car or bought a house or gotten married or had a kid. Others were honking and I was urged to be rushing along. And much like the ride I was on, I was headed for a crash and burn. But, I don’t wanna run your race or anybody else’s for that matter. I’d love to trot along in life and look at the myriad small creatures we leave behind daily. I feel the need to stop and look at the vast open spaces as others pass me by. I would kill to be able to breathe slowly while admiring the distance between us and Orion’s belt; and contemplate how they could just be light rays from an already extinct star cluster. I will slow down till such time I am sure I am chewing my food enough and savoring all the flavors life has to offer.

I am back on the saddle, but I don’t ride in the fear of being honked at. I ride on the side and take it all in and wave as the others pass me by. I’m gonna do the same with my life. Just wait around and slowly trot along and take in all that the winding road has to offer. The coffee breaks, the slow brunches, the starlit skies, the late night calls, the jog in the petrichor, the stolen glances, the pause in nothingness, the park benches, the walk under incandescent light, the lonely travels, the photograph of drying raincoats, the undisclosed poems, the lingering smell, the sufi songs. It is not a race for the finish line. Even if it is, I don’t wanna race. It most definitely is not about winning, If anything, it is about finishing on your own terms. So If you are racing, I will be here on my arm chair, slowly sipping my cold coffee, chewing a book and waving at you as you pass me by.

But remember,

“The reason we race isn’t so much to beat each other but to be with each other. The Hopis consider running a form of prayer; they offer every step as a sacrifice to a loved one, and in return ask the Great Spirit to match their strength with some of his own.” – Christopher McDougall, Born to Run.