What did I do with my dreams? I gave them wheels.

By Rithika Karumbaiah

Heads turn when a Royal Enfield Bullet with all its glory rushes past on our driveways. However, most would not be expecting the rider to have long hair when the helmet comes off. The image of a leather-jacketed, heavy boots and aviator-wearing biker is alluring to me. The Royal Enfield, which initially was introduced to the Indian Army for border patrol use by the British government, built its image around a powerful macho man – the ‘bullet wala sahib’. That image used to survive until women stepped out and ruled the roads. Fast-forward to the 21st century, and we have a Priyanka Chopra or Gul Panag on their bikes with their aviators, jackets and studded boots – making riding all the more mainstream and “normal” and keeping the swag quotient high too!

Gul Panag, an actress and a motorbike enthusiast, has been riding a motorbike since she was 16. | Photo Courtesy: Entertales

Although my tryst with riding started at the age of 8; but, I remember it just like it happened yesterday. It was an uneventful day when I had boarded the school bus back home. I stared blankly out the window as my bus rumbled down the street, careful not to get my hair too tangled in the dusty afternoon wind, when I caught sight of the one moment that would forever be etched on my mind. I saw a woman of barely 30, tying her dupatta as she picked up her son from school on a motorbike and driving away, leaving behind a cloud of dust. My eyes grew wide as I painted the dream of owning my first bike and riding away into the horizon. At a young age of 8, I was determined that this would happen – sometime, somewhere in life. But happen, it would.

Cut to 20 years later – here I was at a wedding reception which would have been mildly enjoyable, if not for some random aunty swooping in to drop the “So when are you getting married?” bomb on me. As random aunty continues to look at me with hope in her eyes, all I could think was how stupid was I to shell out 15K to buy ethnic wear for this occasion rather than just blowing it up on a Goa trip? I smiled politely and hastily made my way out of the reception to find a quiet spot for myself by the parking. But my peace was short-lived. There was loud laughter and giggling somewhere close by. As I looked around, I saw my cousin teaching a younger girl to ride a bike. Suddenly, all my memories came flooding back as I remembered a promise that I had made to myself all those years ago but had suppressed under work, relationships, life and everything else. I don’t know what happened, but I knew that if I didn’t do now what I once had dreamed of, later might never come. I had an opportunity now. And I planned to seize it.

I walked over to my cousin and asked him to teach me how to ride. Curious as ever, he asked me why now. I told him that I was going to take a trip soon, and I planned on riding a bike. He happily obliged, and thus, began my week-long training session. One week later, I could comfortably hold my own on the bike. I had been riding mopeds and other non-geared vehicles all my life and this was only marginally different – except for the comfort and sheer driving pleasure that I derived from it. I knew I was ready for my biking trip. All I needed to do was pick the location.

I had taken many solo trips before, so I knew the drill. Light bags, lots of water, IDs – the whole nine yards. I picked Pondicherry as my destination and packed my stuff. Good roads, beaches, and great food. Far enough to clear my mind and yet close enough to complete the trip over the weekend. Pondicherry was a trip that I sorely needed. Now for the final step: arranging for the bike. I scoured the internet for good rental deals. Something that would be economical yet gives me a great, trusty bike that I could depend on. Through a fellow biker girlfriend’s recommendation, I picked Drivezy. For someone who could not possibly bring home a one lac bike, I was pleasantly surprised at their #RoadQueen Offer – a flat 70% discount on all Royal Enfields (a good choice if there ever was one). Bags packed, travel plans in place, bike in hand. I was all set to embark on a journey of a lifetime.

A French colony until 1954, the coastal town of  Pondicherry still retains a number of colonial buildings, churches, statues, and systematic town planning, as well as the urban architecture of the local Tamil style. As such the town has been dubbed “The Europe of India”. | Photo Courtesy: The Hindu

I remember putting on my helmet sharp at 6 in the morning. I remember my mother fretting as I sat on the bike. She had said a special prayer for me and even put a ‘teeka’ on my forehead for good measure. But the moment the engine came to life and I hit the highway, my mind drew a blank. This was a new feeling, unlike any I had ever experienced. So comfortable, so relaxing, so peaceful. I smiled to myself, almost patting my back for a trip that seemed like a great decision right from the start.

I tried staying on the national highway but eventually trailed off, finding my way through the villages in Tamil Nadu. I vaguely recalled my mother advising me to stay on the main roads and not take unnecessary ‘risks’. I glanced in the rearview mirror and caught sight of the teeka that still marked my forehead. “Oh well, let’s make the teeka ritual worth it!”, I thought. Soon, I started venturing along narrow routes through villages, with great trees lining the way that made my journey an ethereal experience – one I wouldn’t forget anytime soon. I stopped to buy some water at a remote village. As I took off my helmet and walked into the shop, local women looked at me in surprise. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw an old lady nod approvingly and then give me a warm smile. In an unexpected moment, we connected. I took a breather, spoke to the woman in a broken mix of Kannada and Hindi and even ate some ‘prasaad’ she offered me. Having rested a bit, I ached to ride the bike again.

Conformity isn’t always a necessity. | Photo Courtesy: Visual Hunt

Throughout my entire journey which started in Bangalore and spanned close to 9 hours, I zipped past the fields of Chengam, the temples of Thiruvannamalai and countless villages I hadn’t even heard of. But at no point did I feel like I couldn’t handle my own. It had been a while since I had felt this rejuvenated. I made my way through crowded Pondicherry streets and soon saw the glimmering waters of Promenade Beach. I dismounted my bike, took off my helmet and jacket and made my way through the sands. As the cool waves lightly swept over my feet, I looked out into the horizon and realized how beautiful my bike ride had been.

I crossed my bike trip off my bucket list, knowing full well this was not going to be the last. Somewhere, deep inside, 8-year-old me leapt for joy.

[su_divider top=”no” size=”1″]

Featured Image Credits: hamerred49 via Instagram