A casual glance over the shoulder was all that was required. My dad's Bajaj Super didn't have any rear view mirrors. In Bokaro, you didn't need one. I, didn't need one.
As I looked at the right rear view mirror to make sure that the Tata Indica wasn't going to hit me, I noticed a tiny grasshopper sitting on it. Traffic was heavy and we were approaching a signal. I wondered how long it would be able to hold on. The light turned to green and I quickly changed gears to move ahead of the menacing trucks which were slowing down the traffic. My speedometer read a little less than 80. The insect was clinging on to the mirror with all its might. A couple of minutes later, I was at the basement of my office building, parking my bike. It was still there. Not holding on as tight as it had been a few minutes earlier, but still there.
I can't imagine riding without one. Its too scary. Each second brings so many decisions to be made. Each glance, each little swerve has to be carefully done. It wasn't always like this. On my dad's Bajaj Super, it was simpler. Often there wasn't even the need to look back.
What if life came with a rear view mirror. To see how far is somebody whom you left behind. To see who's coming up to you. To maybe slow down a little at times. To have a different perspective, if not anything else.
I half expected the tiny grasshopper to be still there when I came back in the evening. It wasn't. But I wondered about the view it must have got from there.
As I looked at the right rear view mirror to make sure that the Tata Indica wasn't going to hit me, I noticed a tiny grasshopper sitting on it. Traffic was heavy and we were approaching a signal. I wondered how long it would be able to hold on. The light turned to green and I quickly changed gears to move ahead of the menacing trucks which were slowing down the traffic. My speedometer read a little less than 80. The insect was clinging on to the mirror with all its might. A couple of minutes later, I was at the basement of my office building, parking my bike. It was still there. Not holding on as tight as it had been a few minutes earlier, but still there.
I can't imagine riding without one. Its too scary. Each second brings so many decisions to be made. Each glance, each little swerve has to be carefully done. It wasn't always like this. On my dad's Bajaj Super, it was simpler. Often there wasn't even the need to look back.
What if life came with a rear view mirror. To see how far is somebody whom you left behind. To see who's coming up to you. To maybe slow down a little at times. To have a different perspective, if not anything else.
I half expected the tiny grasshopper to be still there when I came back in the evening. It wasn't. But I wondered about the view it must have got from there.
6 comments:
Beautiful thought, Atish.
"..life came with a rear view...how far is somebody whom you left behind...maybe slow down a little at times" - the thought is really awesome.
Nice thought!! And it deserves a bigger blog!!!
andar bahar ...:)
Beautifully written, especially the life with a rear view mirror bit.
cracker of a blog.... by far the best post!!
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