Sathanur Days - Part 4: The Bajaj M80 mishap
For an introduction to this series, please start here
There comes a time in every boy's life, as he moves into the early stages of teenage-ism (can I copyright this word?), when he simply must move on from riding rusted Hero and BSA SLR bicycles to experiencing something more powerful - even if its just a mofa, a moped or Bajaj Chetak. So it was with me during that summer in Sathanur. I had just started secretly taking my dad's scooter for local rounds when he was not around, and was drunk on the high that you get when you can travel at 30 kmph without any physical effort. All you had to do is just tweak a handle, and feel the wind in your hair.
When I saw the second-hand Bajaj M80 that my grand dad had recently acquired, I knew I had to ride it. It was a thing of beauty and and a play in contradictions - cream with a splash of red, neither a scooter (not enough power) nor a moped (it had gears, you see!), neither a young boy's ride nor an old man's trusted friend, neither meant for city roads nor for village potholes (okay, I'll stop)... But I didn't care. All I knew was I had to get my hands on it! So when it was time to pick up my mom from her parents' place in Thiruvalangadu, a neighboring village to Sathanur (about 3 kms away), I gathered enough guts to ask my grand dad whether I could take the M80 alone and pick her up. My grand dad gave me a patient hearing and then told me that I was too young for it. Sensing a window of opportunity here (since I wasn't laughed at and ignored), I argued, pleaded and cried till he agreed to let me have my way.
That was the moment I had been waiting for. I got on the M80, stepped on the gas and sped away. I whizzed past my friends' houses hoping someone would notice me and go green with envy. After a bit of detour to prolong the joyride, I finally got on the only tar road that connected the 2 villages. The 3 km journey was a pleasure, and I worked the vehicle for all its worth. Very soon, I reached my destination, and walked into the house with a new-found gait. When my mom saw me there alone and the M80 at the gate, she managed to hide her shock pretty well. After saying our good byes, we started our journey back to Sathanur. I couldn't wait to show off my riding abilities to her.
We had just gone to the next street when I noticed a group of kids playing by the side of the road. They had seen me coming pretty fast and stayed out of my way, so I didn't bother to slow down or honk. Just when I was 2 inches from completely going past them, this one kid decided that he had to be on the other side of the road at the exact same moment. I'm not sure what made him do this, but he just took off like a prize horse out of the starting blocks. All I saw was a flash as he started running across the road right in front of me. For all I know, they might as well be handing out free passes for the latest Rajnikanth movie on this side of the road. Let me tell you something about M80 brakes - first you are scared if they'll work on time, and then you realize they do not exist! I was trying to frantically jam on the brakes and to downshift at the same moment, but there was no time and I had knocked the kid down. But more tragically, his shirt collar got stuck in my foot pedal, and I ended up dragging him on the road a good 20 ft till the M80 ground to a reluctant halt.
I was shell-shocked for a while and just sat on my vehicle staring stupidly at the kid now lying at my feet with a big gash on his forhead (I come from a long line of men who are not exactly at their best in an emergency situation!). Eventually, I got my bearings and turned around to check on my mom, but there was no one on the back seat. Just when I was wondering whether she had decided to ditch me in my hour of need and flee the spot, I noticed her sitting on the road, exactly where I had first jammed on the brakes. Apparently, the kid was not the only one I had knocked down.
By this time, a crowd had gathered there. They shoved me to a nearby house and surrounded me, while someone tried to treat the boy. As more people joined the party, I sensed a little bit of hostility in the air and it slowly started to dawn on me. There was no law or police men in these parts, and these charged up villagers were going to beat me to an inch of my life. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable. Just then, a passer by recognized me as "Sathanur Sambasiva Iyer's grandson" and came to my rescue. He negotiated with the 'leader' of the crowd and offered to pay the kid for his inconvenience and treatment. Somehow they arrived at a round amount of 100 rupees (a substantial sum in those day), and my mom hurried back to her parents' place to bring the booty and deposit it with the crowd 'leader'. And just like that, I was off the hook and free to go. I thanked my savior, but asked him not to mention this to my grand dad. He looked at me weirdly and went on his way. I got back home with my mom (who had to tend to her bruises). As I locked up the M80 and went in, I did not utter a word to my grand dad. As you might have guessed, I did not start the vehicle again for the rest of my vacation.
A few days later, in the middle of a TV show, my grand dad turned to me and asked me with a smile "So did you like the M80 brakes?"
There comes a time in every boy's life, as he moves into the early stages of teenage-ism (can I copyright this word?), when he simply must move on from riding rusted Hero and BSA SLR bicycles to experiencing something more powerful - even if its just a mofa, a moped or Bajaj Chetak. So it was with me during that summer in Sathanur. I had just started secretly taking my dad's scooter for local rounds when he was not around, and was drunk on the high that you get when you can travel at 30 kmph without any physical effort. All you had to do is just tweak a handle, and feel the wind in your hair.
When I saw the second-hand Bajaj M80 that my grand dad had recently acquired, I knew I had to ride it. It was a thing of beauty and and a play in contradictions - cream with a splash of red, neither a scooter (not enough power) nor a moped (it had gears, you see!), neither a young boy's ride nor an old man's trusted friend, neither meant for city roads nor for village potholes (okay, I'll stop)... But I didn't care. All I knew was I had to get my hands on it! So when it was time to pick up my mom from her parents' place in Thiruvalangadu, a neighboring village to Sathanur (about 3 kms away), I gathered enough guts to ask my grand dad whether I could take the M80 alone and pick her up. My grand dad gave me a patient hearing and then told me that I was too young for it. Sensing a window of opportunity here (since I wasn't laughed at and ignored), I argued, pleaded and cried till he agreed to let me have my way.
That was the moment I had been waiting for. I got on the M80, stepped on the gas and sped away. I whizzed past my friends' houses hoping someone would notice me and go green with envy. After a bit of detour to prolong the joyride, I finally got on the only tar road that connected the 2 villages. The 3 km journey was a pleasure, and I worked the vehicle for all its worth. Very soon, I reached my destination, and walked into the house with a new-found gait. When my mom saw me there alone and the M80 at the gate, she managed to hide her shock pretty well. After saying our good byes, we started our journey back to Sathanur. I couldn't wait to show off my riding abilities to her.
We had just gone to the next street when I noticed a group of kids playing by the side of the road. They had seen me coming pretty fast and stayed out of my way, so I didn't bother to slow down or honk. Just when I was 2 inches from completely going past them, this one kid decided that he had to be on the other side of the road at the exact same moment. I'm not sure what made him do this, but he just took off like a prize horse out of the starting blocks. All I saw was a flash as he started running across the road right in front of me. For all I know, they might as well be handing out free passes for the latest Rajnikanth movie on this side of the road. Let me tell you something about M80 brakes - first you are scared if they'll work on time, and then you realize they do not exist! I was trying to frantically jam on the brakes and to downshift at the same moment, but there was no time and I had knocked the kid down. But more tragically, his shirt collar got stuck in my foot pedal, and I ended up dragging him on the road a good 20 ft till the M80 ground to a reluctant halt.
I was shell-shocked for a while and just sat on my vehicle staring stupidly at the kid now lying at my feet with a big gash on his forhead (I come from a long line of men who are not exactly at their best in an emergency situation!). Eventually, I got my bearings and turned around to check on my mom, but there was no one on the back seat. Just when I was wondering whether she had decided to ditch me in my hour of need and flee the spot, I noticed her sitting on the road, exactly where I had first jammed on the brakes. Apparently, the kid was not the only one I had knocked down.
By this time, a crowd had gathered there. They shoved me to a nearby house and surrounded me, while someone tried to treat the boy. As more people joined the party, I sensed a little bit of hostility in the air and it slowly started to dawn on me. There was no law or police men in these parts, and these charged up villagers were going to beat me to an inch of my life. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable. Just then, a passer by recognized me as "Sathanur Sambasiva Iyer's grandson" and came to my rescue. He negotiated with the 'leader' of the crowd and offered to pay the kid for his inconvenience and treatment. Somehow they arrived at a round amount of 100 rupees (a substantial sum in those day), and my mom hurried back to her parents' place to bring the booty and deposit it with the crowd 'leader'. And just like that, I was off the hook and free to go. I thanked my savior, but asked him not to mention this to my grand dad. He looked at me weirdly and went on his way. I got back home with my mom (who had to tend to her bruises). As I locked up the M80 and went in, I did not utter a word to my grand dad. As you might have guessed, I did not start the vehicle again for the rest of my vacation.
A few days later, in the middle of a TV show, my grand dad turned to me and asked me with a smile "So did you like the M80 brakes?"
posted by c2c at Sunday, June 04, 2006
1 Comments:
yeah yeah....I thank god i wasn't on the back seat with you that fateful day!!!
but i still remember the day when you dumped the TVS 50 into the slush and both of us came home as if we were petrified!!!
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