My Biker Chic

Hey guys, here I am.

Ashwin Muralidharan. With another soul freezing, solo experience.

It was sweet, seamless and royal. Well, to be precise, “Royal Enfield”.

Let me tell you about Prometheus. He suffered an eternal torment by Zeus. He stole the holy fire from Greek gods and gave it to the humans. As punishment, everyday an eagle plucked his heart and killed him again and again. Thus, it was an eternal torment.

I am no less than Prometheus. In my case the punishment was poetic. The pain was pleasant, refreshing, memorable and alarming. During some special moments, mesmerising women abduct my heart. These magic moments are perfectly designed by a jerk. People call him cupid. This guy loves to play football with my feelings.

“Chic”- As we all know, a contemporary word to describe beautiful women. But a biker chic is an absolute fancy of my life. From the day of my adolescence, two things always got my attention. One were BULLET bikes and the other were chic’s who sit behind.

Bullet bike has a special feature. Any anonymous weak, puny guy is transformed into a charismatic hunk, sitting on it. It carries a character. Handsome and sexy will be the perfect words to distinguish bullet when it carries chics.  So, to me owning a bullet will be a pride possession. It’s a journey of patience with savings.

This luxurious journey got more interesting with a sweet accident, with Sruthi and her black matt Thunder Bird 500cc. Sounds awesome right? A gorgeous woman riding a cruise bike!

Oh hell ya! Wow.

Day’s pressures linger longer in our minds than we think. My head was whistling like one hot oven, sprouting steams all over. My desperate need of oxygen made me move my stoned calf muscles. I was loitering around the lawn area, listening and humming, imagining myself as Javid Ali.

I never bothered for the poor souls around me. Dogs or humans, both face a lethal consequence when they hear my voice. But I have always noticed something. Whenever people go to bliss, the climate changes or the time freezes.

My medium paced tempo walk and mild chillness in the winter night blended with the feeble flickering street lamp. The yellow beacon signalled me to wait and turn back. Far away a bright source of light was approaching like the polar express lost its way towards winter point. Lucky me, I was enjoying the sound of it. It was a bullet. The beats were so rhythmic and it combined with a melodious BGM ringing in my ears.

This is the phase where my anticipation grows. It came close to me. With my cool looks and stunning gestures (Imagination..Never mind) I set my vision towards the person who was riding it.

HOLY COW! It was a girl. With rugged boots, open helmet, cargo pants and leather jacket, she was a complete package. That moment, I fell in love again. For few instance, I was teleported to my dream sequence. I was crossing Ladak Lake with a sand storm 550 and she in her classic 350. 

I was lost. My long term passion was travelling in front of my eyes. I just followed her track and faced her eye to eye. I stood in front of her and said- “You are awesome. You make this bike beautiful.”

With a small chuckle and a blush in her face she said thanks.

When she removed her helmet, her disturbed hair sprung out like fine tuned guitar chords. I wanted to talk more and know more about her, but I didn't want her to get a bad impression on me.

That was the worst good night dialogue I said that night. I was gazing her like a child gazing over a Choco lava cake.

Later, after many days, I saw her again. This time things were comfortable for her. Not for me. I needed extra courage to talk to the women I had crush with. She introduced herself as Sruthi. This name was way too familiar for me.

She had a cute dimple on her cheeks, which attracted me and distracted from concentrating on her words. To ignite my desire, she was also a photographer like me. I thought I should just convey my feeling to her. But, as you know my fate, she was already engaged.

Common man.

She said, my would be loves bullet too.  My mood went for a toss. But, that’s ok. Only incomplete memories stay longer than complete short lived happy feelings. She will be the perfect off tone of my life.

I have to thank her to improve my importance over my dream bike.

Thank you, Sruthi.

Hope, in the future we can be good friends or biking partners.

My journey continues......... (Without a Chic).......... Bullet awaits.

Ashwin Muralidharan:- Hey people. If you like my story give your valuable comments.