8…7…6…
…5
…4
…3
Vroom…. The accelerator swung to the hilt…
…2……1
Screech! Halt! Red!
Damn!!! She thumped the handle of the bike hard in disappointment, as she saw the red Bajaj Avenger slid through the gap and clear the signal just in time. She stood there right at the yellow line, her gloved hands rhythmically tapping at the wind shield, the rhythm of her impatience. She pulled out the ipod from the pocket of her jacket and hastily flicked through radio stations looking for some catchy number that would drown her disappointment at the no-stake race, she just lost with the stranger.
She hated red lights… she hated having to brake… she hated to halt… hated to lose.
She was Velocity personified. Action, adventure, speed and thrill kept her going. She was among those few people who constantly lived on the edge of life, staring at death every moment and yet managing to duck it. To her everyday was the last of her life, and she wanted to live it to the fullest.
15 more seconds of wait before she would be flying on the wings of speed again.
Just then, a yellow Karizma, glided in a zig-zag from between the cars and stood by her side. There was something different about this new invasion, a presence that somehow demanded attention. She stole a quick admiring look at it, in a way not to make it too conspicuous. “Bold and beautiful!” she thought, with a new glint in her eyes. Here was her next fellow player at the game of SPEED.
The numbers at the signal now started to flicker, 5… 4… 3… 2…
And before it showed 1… she released the brakes and turned the accelerator full on and zipped past the light, overtaking the Karizma, blocking its way. This was often her way to invite a race. She loved to prick a man’s ego and watch him react to it in vengeance. She had known by experience, that no man on the surface of the earth, can ever come to terms with a woman overtaking him on the road. And true to his breed, the yellow Karizma pepped up and in no time was right by her side, speeding. She smiled to herself and then the entire traffic became inconsequential. All she could see was the shining yellow body, all she could hear was the wind slapping hard against her helmet, all that mattered was the speed, the race, the victory.
Both the bikes zipped through the congested lanes of the Airport road in the late evening, at unearthly speed… a little twist of the handle, a little slant to avoid a rear-view mirror…a pulse of brake to let the kid cross the road… and a continuous breath-taking speed. For a moment he would find himself far ahead, and in the next, she would be right besides him. Sometimes, they would lose sight of each other in the crowd and the sting of disappointment would only have seeped skin deep, before they would track each other again.
And the race lasted 15 kms with no true victory or loss, just the points ticking away… sometimes in favour of him, sometimes her. And then came the by-lane, the cleavage on the road where their paths were to part. She gave the left indicator, indicating her departure to him and immediately he was by her side. A stretch of about 200 metres lay in front of them before the turn. Both the bikes by now slowed down, as if panting for breath. They then moved together at the same speed, in perfect sync, in perfect harmony… like the moves of a couple in a beautifully synchronized, romantic, dance performance. They played, they flirted, they communicated, all with the twists and sways of their bike, the distance and proximity between their imaginary loci… the rising and falling of the road like the rhythm of their breath… till the point of the cleavage. There they lingered for a brief second, while their bikes were still in motion. He instantly reached out for the flap of his formula one helmet, and for the first time in the last 20 minutes of their acquaintance, she caught a glimpse of his deep set eyes…and in that moment, she saw nothing else. She couldn’t make out the colour of the eyes, but there was a strange power in them… a power that held you captive for a moment. There was something about those eyes, she thought… something piercing, somethin that knocked straight at your heart… a strange honesty, a strange spark. He gave a slight, reluctant smile and raised his gloved hand in a thumbs-up. She had never experienced this kind of sporting spirit before. She twisted the handle of her bike and slanted towards the turn, her mind totally confused on one hand, and on the other furiously debating whether to return the friendly gesture. She hastily turned her head for one last look of him and there he was still moving slowly across the turn, his gaze fixed in her direction. An instantaneous smile broke on her lips and she raised her hands to him in a hi-five. They both smiled and the next moment, the accelerators were turned full on and both the bikes zoomed off in different directions, bound by different destinations.
:-)
