Ladies...what kind of ‘Biker’ are you?!

To all my fellow female bikers here are a few things that men wanted to tell you, but never did either cause they loved you too much, or they hated you too much or they just felt it was too damn unpolitical to say…and so I take the liberty of saying these things…cause somebody just so bloody should…

At the outset let me ask you to please pardon me (yeah I know that is tongue-in-cheek!) if this sounds too harsh, is too rude or is just too much criticism…but please do give it a think…do consider this with an open mind… oh and by the way…I don’t claim to be above all of this…I am not for a minute absolving myself of some of these things…I know and recognize that I ain’t perfect myself…but what the heck…I am willing to learn. I know after this little snarkiness I am opening myself out to criticism ‘aa bhel mujhe maar’…types…but then I also know that sometimes you’ve gotta fall real hard to learn…

Oh and some of these even male bikers are guilty of…so if you are a man and you are reading this…ain’t no need to preen…there are enough of these kinds amongst you too.

So I have been a biker for about 10 years now and in this time I have seen several kinds of female bikers/riders (pillions haven’t been taken into account for this one!). So let’s start with a few of the types…that might help you figure how to circumvent the waters and not belong to these particular “types”…cause the “types” I am talking about are ANNOYING…with a capital A.

So the first category are “pout-ur-on-camera” or the posers as I’d like to call ‘em. These are the kinds who will get a bike to just plain look good on it. This kind will not lose an opportunity to either click or be clicked. And when I say click…yup ‘em selfies they are…what were you thinking? They take on assignments and “rides” to photo studios. They will not miss an opportunity to pout, to push, to pull – push their butts, pull their stomachs…lol…did you think push and pull their bikes…uhuh…they can’t really handle that…their nails might get chipped! What do they look for in a bike…did’ya say BHP…what is that…uhuh…they look for the stickering, the styling…yup I know by now you got it…so not elucidating further on this particular one…I know  everybody has seen them. Kinda hard to miss ‘em!

The second largest category are the “I ain’t got nothin!” kinds. These “bikers” don’t own their ride.

They do however ride…sometimes a hell of a lot. Short distances…long distances and distances in-between…they ride. But these too are posers, just of a different kind. They usually ride their fathers/brothers/uncles/boyfriends/husbands/xyz’s bike. They talk to the ton…but all of it is theoretical nonsense…for when the bike starts to splutter or stop or basically complain…they have no clue what is wrong with it. This kind will own it all…they will own fancy biking jackets, biking shoes, biking this and biking that…but they don’t own the bike. So what’s the big deal you might ask? The big deal is that when you own and maintain your own baby you understand every little whisper and every little clink. You understand what is going wrong and if you have absolutely no technical bend of the mind you will atleast figure that there is something wrong! When you take the trouble of going to your friendly neighbourhood mechanic and you try and explain a ‘clink’ or a ‘drag’ or ‘squeak’ you end up in a conversation and the friendly neighborhood mechanic will explain what is wrong…so you actually get to learn a fair bit. And the next time you hear the same squeak or clink or whatever, you know if it should be taken seriously or not.

Now this kind can actually change their ways. All they need to do is maintain the bike…take it to the service center ladies. Sure it gets uncomfortable not so much cause we are uncomfortable, but because the mechanics in the store all act weird. So what if it is your husband’s/uncles/brothers/…yada…yada’s bike…you ride it…so then you gotta service it too. This way when a lil clink announces the unwinding of your machine you know and you can prevent it from becoming a catastrophic event cause a screw came undone…if you catch my drift!

The third kind…the “soliloquyist”…so these are the women who wanna be by themselves….but they insist on riding with groups. So what’s the big deal you ask…why is this annoying? I’ll tell you why. So you are riding in a group, you are sticking with a formation, the group is doing everything possible to stick together cause we ride together and we have fun together. But this variety of riders…they just want the fun part of it. For as long as they are having fun they are more than happy to tow the line, but the moment they have had their fill they either wanna take off or fall way behind with the result that the entire group starts to go on a hunting spree for them therein losing precious time, extending non-fun moments in the saddle, and generally getting everybody riled up.

Amongst all this exists the very few and very rare kinds of ‘riders’ the ones who have an intimate relationship with their bikes, understand every lil nuance, totally in love with their bikes, have the right gears and find no need to flaunt it, get their bikes serviced on time, tanked up the previous night, no jhanjhat, no complaints, put them on a saddle and they will go anywhere and their bikes too don’t give up on them cause of all the care that they get. This is my favorite kind of rider. They are highly dependable, will stand by you through thick and thin, go out on solo rides when the mood hits them but when in a group completely transform themselves to belong.  If you have had the pleasure of ever riding with such a rider you know what I mean…I have had the pleasure of riding with such riders… from both genders…but yes they are a rarity. So my sincere advice…should you ever come across such a rider do everything to keep them in your fold. These are the people you want to emulate, you want to have with you and you wanna partner with them for any and all rides (pun totally intended! ;P)

Oh and let me sit on judgment on me too what kind of “biker” am i?...”I am a little bit of everything, all rolled into one…” (browny points if you guess the song!) ….I ain’t sitting on the high horse after this little piece ;)

Catch ya on the road…(what kind of rider are you?)

Freeeeevrroooommm....

“This group changed my life…”; “This group has come to mean so much to me…”; “My entire life changed since I have been part of this group…”; “I’ve become more confident and feel ki kuch bhi kar sakthi hoon…”

Pic Courtesy: Roshini S Miraskar

Statements I have been hearing for a while and for the longest time I kept trying to figure how…how can one group change so much or help in such a transformation?

It was on a recent ride that I finally got it. This group I am talking about is the Bikerni.

What is this group about? This group is about a set of female only bikers who ride together. What is the agenda? Nothing, just ride.

Pic Courtesy: Roshini S Miraskar

It is a platform for women with a common and shared passion to connect on and to make friends and to live an experiential life that by themselves, perhaps, is not a possibility, in many cases. The only common denominator in this group is the passion to ride. Nothing else. 

The bikes are different, the styles of riding are different, the backgrounds are different, some are home makers, some Head verticals in  large MNC’s, some are professionals and some artists. The girl still in college and the mother whose girl is in college, the young and old exist on this platform together sharing the same experiences. The powerful and the meek, the Harley's and the Splendours, the globe trotter and the girl who just moved to a large city from a little tiny village…all exist together…all bond together…all ride together.

What does this group do? Meet on a regularly, make plans to visit new places, ride on new roads, go as far and wide as possible and as often as possible. 

This 'possible’ is not too possible always…cause this is a group of women and as women there are ‘n’ number of reasons not to be able to ride…guilt trips by parents, children vying for attention, husbands snide remarks, in-laws sense of misplaced ‘norms’, societies snickers, project deadlines, targets to be achieved, limited leaves that need to optimized…the list is endless. And then there is only one reason therefore to ride…just the raw call of passion for the open road, for the beat of the engine for the feel of the wind at 80 kmph and the 

unfettered feeling of being with like-minded women and to just ‘be’.

Pic Courtesy: Roshini S Miraskar

It is when this group comes together on rides that you see what a woman really perhaps is…without calls of duty, without having a schedule to follow, without pressures, without judgment, without prejudice. She laughs, she talks, she lazes, she dances, she lives. She conquers fears, she conquers twists, she conquers speeds and she conquers all the other things that hold her back from realizing her full potential. She learns about herself and she learns about her potential. She changes, she gets better, she likes who she becomes.

Pic Courtesy: Me :)

And then from one ride to the next, she holds on to that self of hers, that she became, that she discovered, that she loves, but cannot be. Until the next ride, until the next trip…she will run on memories.

And that is what this platform does…and that is why I continue to hear statements like those, even after several rides and several meet ups…

That’s your sneak peek into the world of a Bikerni…welcome aboard if you are one of us… 

Magic or science - Friendship?

How do you explain the science of relationships and how they take hold of you…how do you explain spending one year and being friends for life and spending years together and still staying strangers? 

A groups of friends, we called ourselves SVADPAL. That like you must have guessed stood for the first letter of each of our names (we were freshly minted college-goers!). We were a group of seven girls, we spent one year together and since then have met every year all thanks to the one ‘S’. But every time we meet it’s like nothing has changed…all the years, the families, the responsibilities, the maturity…all fall away.

Today was one such day. Not all seven of us could meet cause many of us are spread across and don’t all live in the same city, but three of us caught up to celebrate ‘L’s birthday. From the moment we met till the time we bid our goodbyes we laughed and laughed and laughed, like we hadn’t laughed for many years. 

What is it about college friends that let you be who you are? No pretenses, no half-truths and whole lies, just plain you. There is nothing you can’t tell each other, there is nothing that is taboo. We don’t judge we don’t dwell, we laugh at our travails and take inspiration from each of our life’s paths. Our follies, our adventures and misadventures…all just fodder for more togetherness…from stomach grasping laughter to bawling and then laughter again…all emotions visited in the span of a few minutes and even seconds.   

We were a group of seven that nobody messed with. We bunked classes, we got into fights with everybody else, we consoled each other, we got thrown out of classes and suspended, we dated and laughed at each other’s boyfriends…we did it all. Today after many years, it is all the same, we still laugh at husbands and kids and the many complexities that that brings with it. We walk out and even the boys react the same! We are different people, but time stays suspended when we spend time with each other…how does this work really? 

What is that source of truth that such relationships feed on? What is that magic that gets created when you are least expecting it? How can 200 days or thereabouts spent together mean so much more than several decades spent with others?

Whatever the magic or the science behind this is…I am thankful and grateful for such relationships. Life has so much more meaning cause of these bonds that exist. Life is richer, more fuller somehow.  And I wish that every one of you has such experiences in life and is blessed with something like this.

I’m listening in, if you’d like to share…

Cauterization

Another wound created, another day lived,
Another experience learnt, another scar to bear
Another wound to heal, another lesson learnt
Another cauterization.

But this well of emotions doesn't seem to seem to run dry,
And I don't understand why.

Shouldn't cauterization stem the flow
Shouldn't it dull the pain
Shouldn't it prevent the bleed
Shouldn't it burn away?

Emotions once known to be dead, buried and gone,
How then do they continue...their existence?
No control seem to have I
What and how do I tell these emotions of mine
Feel no more and wither away?

IBR - Ride on (Rider Mania, Goa'14)

Chivalry is dead. Bikers are a crude and rude bunch. The value system of the people of today is eroding.

These and many more such “paradigms” were destroyed, re-written and re-defined on a Thursday, November 20, 2014 on my meeting with the men from India Bull Riders or IBR as they are fondly called. 

The story starts thus; three of us women riders decided to attend Rider Mania’2014 in Goa. Initially this group was much larger but as the journey dawned, the group whittled to us three souls who were willing to brave the 600 km+ ride (one-way). We then decided to not do it by ourselves cause its always about the journey and a journey is so much more nicer in a large and fun group

.

In stepped one of the female riders, let’s call her ‘K’ who suggested that we ride with the IBR gang. Now, to be honest, this is not a group I had heard off before or perhaps I did and I wasn't too interested…so I had no clue, what to expect. The three of us however decided to go ahead and ride with this bunch and they kindly agreed to include us in their ride plans. (Most long distance riders are very picky about who they ride with, cause the wrong company can absolutely kill your joy and sanity on a tasking journey.)

And from here on the journey took an interesting turn. Oh and I say journey cause in our heads, once the plans are made the journey is underway already, the actual act of getting on the road is just one step in the process. So, ‘K’ first sends me a message from IBR's ride captain. What was it? A link to a google doc with (ahem…clear throat) some meeting notes with minutes of the meeting and job allocation by riders. Yeah yeah I will explain better. So this link contained information on a meeting that was held earlier sometime, where this group had met up to discuss ride plans. In these rides plans decisions are made about who will run point who will sweep who will be the marshal, who will carry what other responsibilities. Responsibilities include first aid kit, spares and tyres and other assorted stuff that goes a long way in ensuring that the ride is pleasurable one, rather than an arduous task. This doc contained very precise instructions on the meeting points, the timing, what needs to be carried by whom…et all. Honestly this in itself should’ve given me an inkling of what to expect, for I am sure even organizations can take a leaf out of this particular club and their preparedness, their preciseness and how everything is planned and thought about to the last minute detail. This should have told me about their discipline and the thought process that goes into everything. This is a special group.

So on the day of the ride we assemble at 4.00 am, quick introductions are made and we get on the road. A total of 14 bikes make up our entourage, and this includes our three bikes as well.  We ride fast and we ride hard. And then some hand signals happen…and all of a sudden all of the bikes move as one. It is synchronicity at its best. Imagine this, the ride captain running point lifts up his index finger pointing to the heavens and every single bike coalesces into a single file. I've been part of dance troupes, and I know the level of practice taken to achieve this kind of synchronicity, and you know that you are part of a magical experience when total strangers come together to achieve that synchrony. Every rider quickly loses his or her individuality and the entire troupe lives and breathes as one big machine forming patterns on the road that is both graceful, powerful and awe inspiring. A bunch of hand signals happen. Again initiated by the ride captain leading the group, this time two fingers go up – in a victory sign of sorts and the group splits into two lanes. This formation increases the speed of  the group and swallows every vehicle on the road moving to the left and right, swallowing trucks, cars and bikes caught in its wake and spitting them out at the end of the train.

You know you are experiencing something beautiful and amazing when most adult on the road have their mouths open and eyes widened and every child waves, claps and has a grin splitting their faces. All of this discipline means that we make such amazing time that we are then ahead of schedule and can afford more breaks than what was initially planned for…yup…breaks are planned for too, except ofcourse for those that make no announcements such as break downs or loss of bladder control!

The entire speed of the group is maintained by the ride captain who periodically gives instructions with an upward wave of a hand - increase speed, a downward wave of the hand - decrease speed, point to the road - pothole, indicate a line on the road - a speed breaker. Each one looks out for the other.

It didn't matter, who we are, where we came from, what our background was and the fact that several in the group are total strangers, we were part of something that was bigger than us. We were part of an experience that bound us from a place that defies logic, we all understood each other perfectly, we watched out for each other, we laughed and shared moments of joy and drew strength and inspiration from each other. There were no facades, there were no pretentions, we were just a bunch of riders riding to a common destination on machines that had a strong commonality – the BULLET. I am not sure if the machine chooses the man or the man chooses the machine for the styling of the machine is reflected in the owner of the machine.

Total strangers, who turned out to be exceptional gentlemen, never underestimating us as women, and never over indulging us cause we were women. We were riders and every rider irrespective of his or her gender deserved respect cause the machine we ride demands respect. No man or woman astride this machine can deny that call to give and get respect in equal measure. This group embodied and epitomized those values. This group of men I am proud to say I rode with and am associated with and I thank this group of men for keeping alive those values that separate the chaff from the seed and for being more than men and reclaiming the term ‘Gentlemen’.

Cheers IBR.

Shores - written on the shores of Cambodia on a little island called Koh Rong

Shores 
- Written on the shores of Cambodia on a little island called Koh Rong

On a search are we
On shores distant and free
An age old song
A rhythm divine
The soul does search
That melody resounding
A tune buried deep
Of memories yet to be made
The journey unwinding
A culmination it shall bring
When the road does end
Home shall we be.

Containment

Containment 

As it is within it is without
Another vista beholden, seldom seen
Music in my ears, the comprehension continues to evade my senses
A beauty so large, a truth so mighty
The fevered pitch of thoughts to contain
Task it does seem ill equipped to handle am I
Thoughts not knowing origin
Thoughts my limited vision can ill define
The energy restless it does make me
An outlet, a drive, a collapsing within
Claustrophobia inside, free on the out
A dichotomy does exist in everything
Perfection is perhaps then just that, either an illusion or a perfect cohesion
Strive then, for what are we, where is that finish line?

Mypadu – Serene

Mypadu – Serene
(March 13/14th 2015)

When was the last time you saw the crystal blue of the sky, or the freshness of the green in the paddy fields, or the fading browns hanging from a tree, or the wisps of a cloud go by, or a thousand stars glitter in the night sky and one just passing by…this and more is what I had the good fortune to witness at Mypadu.

Called an endurance ride, perhaps it was a test of machine as much as man, with speeds in the 80’s to 110’s km/hr. We rode like there were demons on our tails and we rode to satiate a hunger to break away, a hunger that burns deep within most riders. The freedom to feel untethered in mind, body and spirit, the freedom to be and to experience and to live every moment to the fullest. Perhaps this is what an ace cricketer means when he says that while he is at the wicket and he sees the ball coming towards him he sees it spin for spin, for time moves a little slower. That perhaps is what we as riders experience every time that picture perfect scene rolls out with every turn of the wheel and is snapped and stored away in the corners of our mind to be pulled up and cherished when our bones do not support our ambitions or desires any longer.

A perfect location like Mypadu (full credit to Inniyan for a fantastic location choice) with its pristine almost virginal beach, make it a joy to the eye.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mypadu_Beach. In our modern worlds of high-tech air-conditioned necessities the myriad different colors that splash across the setting sun is all but lost. But here on this beach they come alive and the canvas of the sky allows for the pinks and blues and the purples all to co-exist in peaceful harmony creating mesmerizing patterns that hypnotize you and hold you in a spell. In the city seldom can we sit for a few minutes without checking our phones or being restless, but the captivating beauty of the colors splashed above you hold you and time loses its meaning. It is perhaps for these moments that we ride…and like greedy children we devoured it, and soaked it in…perhaps some color in our souls to refill.

With 27 bikes riding down from Bangalore and IBR being the epitome of discipline and camaraderie and this being my third ride with this particular group, it was all that I had hoped for and more. Strangers quickly became friends, bonds quickly strengthened and memories were born. The trip to Mypadu – about 450 km took us 11 hours with enough breaks, pit stops and a lot of catching up, some u-turns, some wrong turns thrown in for good measure and the trip back took us 10 hours despite one “necessary break down” (what’s a ride without atleast one breakdown…there has to be some use of the tools we lug all the way isn’t it and these by far make the best memories!).

The road from Bangalore to Mypadu is mostly straight highways and riding in large groups is a pleasure. About 15-20 kms away from the resort the road takes on a country flavor with paddy fields and water bodies on either side. If meandering roads are your thing then go all out on this stretch, it is a beautiful swaying rhythm that you quickly establish and totally enjoy. In your hurry to get there don’t miss the freshly minted green of the paddy leaves, their colors pop at you.

Perhaps the only resort on this particular beach is the one run by APTDC (Andhra Pradesh Tourism).

With about 80 rooms and IBR chapters from Hyderabad and Chennai joining us, the entire resort was booked by us. It was like a mini Rider Mania all over again and for the Bullet aficionado the congregation of these many bullets is just blissful to say the least. To hear the thump in every beating heart – both man and machine beating in unison. Perhaps this is why a bullet is just like no other machine.

Things that one can do at Mypadu, like the IBR boys showcased – flying kites (was a very popular activity by one bunch), dead turtle spotting – quite a few wash up at the shore and they are a sight to behold with humongous shells, star gazing – and if you are lucky like us you will finally see that shooting star that you can wish upon, or, just laze (by far the most popular activity) and just soak the general ambience in. That infact is something I would love to return to do…just savor and cherish the peace and the quiet that a place like that brings with it.

A few things you might want to keep in mind while visiting this beautiful but really hot place – do not forget the sunscreen, umbrella, cotton dresses, shorts, t’s, and lots of fluids. If you are on a road trip make sure to stay hydrated and to take advantage of every place that affords you a pitstop – cause there are not too many on this stretch. Else enjoy the ride/drive and take your time to soak it all in…it’s a beautiful place and deserves our full attention when we are there.

Cheers and happy thumping.
(Pic courtesy: Akthar Shariff)

My First Blog posting - dedicated to my Ma - Poem Titled - Mother

Mother

The set of her jaw
The stance taken
The holding of her hand
A leading from within.
Determination writ across her face
She steps in to step up
As her eyes glide to take it all in
Assess she does of the situation.
For a role she does play
Of the protector and the nurturer
Ill defined, ill governed roles she dons
For her ward is but hers and hers alone
A labour of love and proof eternal
She carried and carries as she will to her grave
A mother she is, don she must and she will
All that is asked and then some more
She will give and she will give
Only but death can draw it to a close.