Motorcycle yoga, mysterious nymphs and the Betadine experience
Outside a temple at the Patan
Durbar Square, there are sculptures of kings astride giant elephants trampling
upon humans, perhaps the enemies of the ‘state’. These images vividly come to
my mind, especially when I’m biking along chock-a-bloc arteries of Kathmandu.
Perhaps this has got something to do with my near-death experience on the road
in May 2008.
It’s five o’clock and I’ve got to
bike my way to the office. The roads dread me, but I have no choice. Once while
driving under the influence of thoughts (I drive at the speed through which
thoughts travel in my cranium, so I’m especially vulnerable to traffic accidents
on merciless roads of Kathmandu) along the Ring Road at Bagdol, I came under
the wheels of a goods carrier and had a close shave. Not all people are that
fortunate. It was then that I had this bizarre realisation (or illusion) of
some creatures from high above watching over me, not to mention the merciful driver,
who could have easily rolled over me and called it an accident. Thenafter, a
tortuous routine involving, among others, walking on crutches on rough and
tumble stretches, shuttling between my home at Bagdol and Gwarko-based B&B
Hospital and the office, began. These experiences are comparable to unbearable
pain my wounded body would suffer with every fresh pouring of a copious dose of
Betadine on my wounded leg on alternate days.
Shuttling between home, office and the hospital in taxi was an undertaking that sent my already shaky economy further floundering.
Driving my not-so-speedy speed
machine was out of the question then. Shuttling between home, office and the
hospital in taxi was an undertaking that sent my already shaky economy further
floundering. Negotiating short stretches on crutches, I would feel as if my
weathered soul was carrying my dead body to I don’t know where.
But this shuttling had its rewards.
On my home from office after doing the graveyard shift, I would meet nocturnal creatures
(cabbies, of course), who would narrate graphic details of their rendezvous
with beautiful Kichkanyas, who would
appear out of nowhere, board four-wheelers, order the cabbies to take them to their
destinations and vanish upon reaching there, without paying the dilfek cabbies and thus burning holes in
their pockets. I imagine how their poor wives, perhaps queuing up to fetch water from
public taps, would lament among friends how their men had squandered money on their
sautas (second, third or nth wives), the
formless nymphs.
Not all those voluptuous,
mysterious, alien riders were nymphs though, as a driver confided to me during my
ride home from Anamnagar.
Once, he told me, a giant among
humankind boarded his not-so-heavy vehicle (a feeble Maruti 800) from
Putalisadak and ordered the humble creature to take him to the hip, happening
and glitzy Durbarmarg. Once there, he vanished like all other nocturnal
creatures (save me, of course), leaving him with the empty realisation that he
had carried the not-so-light spirit of a larger-than-life party animal. During
those troubled times, how I wish I had the ability to vanish and reappear as a
human at will, especially while boarding and getting off taxis. That way, I
could have saved a Helluva lot of cash.
If wishes were taxis, beggars would shuttle in them too, wouldn’t they?
But then if wishes were taxis,
beggars would shuttle in them too, wouldn’t they?
After months of shuttling, I
recuperated and hit the road, again. I have not met with an accident after that
May incident, though I, like fellow motorists, have to brave speedsters, stray
cattle, who take the road as their own trail where no one save their kind is
allowed to masquerade, children let loose, drunkards, and pedestrians always in
a hurry to head to I don’t know where, ‘among others’, with my mind pretty
occupied with existential problems like mounting fuel bill, skyrocketing prices
and not-so-fat pay cheque. I feel fortunate because ever-alert police have not
so far fined me for driving under the influence of thoughts.
Like fellow motorists, I have to brave speedsters, stray cattle, children let loose, drunkards, and pedestrians always in a hurry, ‘among others’, with my mind pretty occupied with existential problems like mounting fuel bill, skyrocketing prices and not-so-fat pay cheque.
I don’t know what keeps me safe
on the road. Does an alien being called Almighty exist there for me? That I
have not died on the road while driving is a miracle in itself.... It must be because fellow bikers, car drivers,
and drivers of famous transport companies like Nepal Yatayat, Swoyambhu Yatayat,
Madhya Upatyaka Yatayat, Sajha Yatayat and Muktidata Yatayat have been
exceptionally kind to me. Or perhaps my lifeline does not end on the road like that
of my dear Indian Army Subedar Major uncle, who died while crossing a busy
Calcutta stretch, a year before retirement, 30 years ago.
But the government should not
leave us, even if we are driving at the speed of a bullock cart on the busy
roads of Kathmandu, at the mercy of some supernatural, quasi-natural or
unnatural force. Anyway, who knows if such a force really exists? And even if it does, it must be a creature of
its own free will. What will happen if it gets drunk and forgets to protect us?
The government should not take chances in matters of life and death.
I feel fortunate because ever-alert police have not so far fined me for driving under the influence of thoughts.
Rather, it should build some slow
lanes for people like us and give us a fair chance to survive without having to
brave Formula One drivers and others on chaotic roads.
Note: This piece appeared in Republica daily, on December 5, 2016, under the title 'Chaotic city rides'
Text and picture: Devendra Gautam
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