Ram Kiran

Behind the throttle, everything fades. Drown everything under the roar of an engine screaming its way to ten thousand RPM. Feel it combust and explode into nothingness. Leave it behind in trails of dust and smoke.

3:05 AM – I wake and lay on my bed without movement. Calm. Steady. Measuring my breathing. My hand scrambles for my phone to switch off the alarm blaring. I fight back the blaze of white light pouring out as my eyes adjust to the screen.

2:17 AM – “Good Morning, Guys !” reads the WhatsApp message in the group. And then some. There were people who woke way ahead of me ? Or did these guys even go to bed in the first place ?

I sit up and get moving. My ever faithful dog follows close at my heels. He already knows I will soon be leaving. As we walk into the hall, the sight of two heavily packed bags, cameras and an array of riding gear greet me. Sprawled out over the living room, tough, armoured clothing. Like a futuristic infantry troop, off to fight the imperial army.

3:30 AM – I sit fully geared up on the sofa, the hard scaphoid protectors on my glove providing a satisfying scratch on my dog’s head. I tell him to be a good boy. I’ll return to him and to my family in two days’ time, I tell him. Safety first, always.

3:37 AM – Duchess growls to life as I push the ignition. I straddle her, eyes closed, waiting patiently. Her cold heart races, trying to get her vitals pumping. As she warms up to me, her pulse settles, a steady rumbling under me. A slight flick of the wrist produces an instantaneous, soft grunt. Satisfying. I drop her in gear and pull away from the underground garage. What is with the inexplicable desire of men to personify objects that hold to their appeal ?

As I turn down the highway and cruise just below a hundred, my mind focuses onto the task at hand. A thousand hundred kilometres. It would be my longest ride ever. I had done up to a four hundred in a day. This would be almost close to six hundred, one way.

There wasn’t any fear or doubt. Just a sense of keenness and anticipation. What lay beyond?

4:01 AM – As I dropped down the Tambaram flyover, a familiar, welcome sight greeted me. Twenty Hondas neatly lined up on the left hand side corner. A group of men, geared up head to toe stood around chatting and greeting each other.

What an insane bunch of men ! To have gotten up hours before day break, dressed in weird clothing in this blazing heat, just to ride to a hill station so far away ? How uncomfortable it would be ! Perhaps this was the thought of most of our friends, colleagues. Even family.

4:15 AM – on the dot – In formation, riding off at a steady pace. Rigid. Convoy style. No ego. No rage. No preoccupied thoughts. Each rider focused on one thing only – Look out for each other. Enjoy the ride. Safely.

A flurry of hand signals pass down from the Lead – obstacles, crossings, potholes. These are rapidly relayed down to the back.

For a bare-bones rider like me, without a comms set up inside my helmet, this is the lifeline that would keep my ride safe. Indian roads have an infamous way of throwing rough patches and bumps when you least expect it. Chicken crossing the road ? Why not a cow. A car down the wrong way, even? I religiously look out for the signals and make it a point to pass it down the back.

11: 25 AM – We cruise. Our engines steady, relaxed. Our exhausts softly thumping in tune to each long, smooth stroke of the piston. Three hundred and fifty cubic centimeters of air and fuel combusting. Yet, Duchess remains poised. Gracefully handling every straight and curve I throw at her. We have evolved to develop a relationship with these seemingly inanimate metal monsters. Each grunt, growl, creak speaks to us. We listen. We respond.

1:05 PM – We have crossed the vicinity of Coimbatore, heading towards Mettupalayam. The Sun is relentless. Bearing down in all its glory. No respite for the mortals who dared to venture out in the mid of summer. For those who dared to face the elements head on, accepting every blast of heat, every gust of wind, every speck of dust that Mother Earth sent our way.

2:45 PM – We have started climbing the Queen of the Hills. What did I tell you about men personifying things? The breeze is cool, a welcome change for the weather beaten, sore group of twenty that have travelled almost 11 hours. Roughly five hundred kilometers. The crisp freshness of the air, the lush greenery soothe us. This was why we were here.

7:45 PM – There’s hearty laughter and smiles. Each man secretly proud, happy. At having reached safely. At having contributed to his fellow rider having reached safely. In the cool embrace of the evening, we had hot tea, and made our way to dinner, laughing, making ridiculous jokes. We may look aggressive to the outside world. Piercing stares. Gruff voices. Intimidating, even. But inside, we are all just simple, normal men. Every bit as soft and vulnerable as the next man. The gear was a cover, literally and metaphorically, to shield us from the world throws at us.

Riding is like meditation. You have no place for distraction. You and your machine are one unit. You care for her and you do it well. You listen to every thing she has to say, and she will do likewise. And if you’re lucky, she will take you to places where few dare to venture and bring you back safely. Fools are those who think bikes don’t have souls.

Over the course of the next day, we would ride over the hills. Enjoy piping hot tea, chocolates, muffins, varki. When was a trip to the Nilgiris range ever complete without the Ooty varki ? Our missions were done. We would soon head back to Chennai. Back to being our every day selves, our daily jobs and lives.

On such journeys, the distance melts away. The sensations of the gear weighing down on you, the snug hug of the helmet, the ever present burn on your buttock, the steady rumble of your motorcycle down the curve as you lean, the roar when you push her flat out on the open highway, the sensation between being half asleep and half awake. Relaxed, yet being on edge. Everything fuses. It is difficult to explain, perhaps impossible. That sensation. With every breath of air, beat of heart, all we do is ride. As on roads, As in life.