I am standing on the bus stop alone .
Even though it is just 5:30 pm, it is as dark as night .The cold is spine chilling . My hands are in my pocket .Getting my hand out even for a minute will cost me dear. The winds so chilled they remind you of hell.The bus is late. opportunistic People who had to be hated were hated.I
didn't deserve this.I
shouldn't be waiting for some public transport to carry me home! But i did not have any choice. I wanted back my freedom.I said to my self " They can take our lives but cannot take our FREEDOM!"....
Chapter 1 : The birthIn my junior college years I found this freedom in "cycle". My college was pretty close by about 3-4
Kms from my house, so commuting was not a problem. The only problem I faced was the embarrassment .At that time having “
Bajaj sunny” was considered a big thing. I felt lowly that I am riding on a cycle while others come on bikes and few “filthy rich” came in cars .I tried many things to get my hands on bike, like, its difficult, I am becoming thinner, my pants get dirty etc but my father
wouldn’t budge (He never said anything actually, that really confused me). Going to college required much less efforts than now to my office . There used to be a flyover (it still is!)
enroute. Climbing it was an uphill task .My classmates sometimes used to offer me a helping hand on their bikes. My ego used to stop me (and it still stops me).Parking cycle and to avoid paying 50
ps was one of the few skills I had developed through my junior college. I had even found a place where there was free parking but it took too much effort. Those were times of personal recession but certainly better than now. I still remember songs from that time “Iris” from Goo Goo Dolls (I used to call them “go go dolls” until corrected by a good foe). Whenever I hear this song all I remember is the flyover and my college besides it. Rains used to bring in some genuine problems, all of my jeans had some or the other tinge of brown color. Braking was another problem .I used to fix the cycles’ brakes myself. I had observed braking in fact increased my speed instead of slowing down. I had a very pleasant experience of getting slapped by a beautiful lady for having driven right into her (this is the second biggest secret of my life). Moral of the story : ”there upsides to everything”. I used to break using my feet and avoiding possible distractions .So the rainy season also brought new shoes along. My cycle was a mountain bike. It was pretty heavy and biker unfriendly. The seat used to make my sitting funny for some while. Now the times have changed, cycling is cool again, unfortunately I don’t cycle (being cool and me are mutually exclusive) .The only place I cycle is from my office parking to my office, which is a good 1 km (as per my colleagues, but ill bet it is 999.99 m). Early Mornings are pleasant, when you cycle from the Car parking every thing favors you (If you find a cycle) the slope is with you, the sun is against you, the wind is in your hair, what else a person working in my office would want. Evenings are tough. Going up the hill requires more efforts than using your brains! No wonder there are no cycles there in the evening, cause our software engineers prefer walking.
Chapter 2 :the lean teenI got my “real” freedom when I got my bike. There were lots of arguments on which bike to buy. My father would always insist on buying the most fuel efficient and cheapest bike and I would fight for the least fuel efficient and costliest bike. Finally the logic prevailed and nobody won! I bought a bike that no one would buy later on. I had risen from my grass root levels. With bike under wings , my soul got freed .I no longer needed my legs (I predict they would be extinct with in next 2-3 generations) .Now that I was high, I thought all I needed was my ass, but that was the least thing that I needed. I needed to learn how to drive a geared bike. For two weeks, I used to come down to the parking and clean my bike, kick start it, try to put it in the gear, fail miserably and go back. I had become a sort of joke in our campus (I was better at the grass roots). After lot of persuasions, my father took me to a ground nearby to teach me. My father has a short span of patience like most of the fathers .We returned triumphantly in two minutes with me disappointing my father N+1
th times and me getting sworn at after every 1.36 seconds.
He easily gives up on me, plus I have a very good track record with various sports like tennis . I had lost all my hopes. But results come from most unlikely places. Mine came from a boy, 5 years younger and million years dumber to me. He taught me clutch control, which I still haven’t forgotten .I could ride now.I started riding in our campus. Soon I crossed 100km mark in our campus .I had become a sort of a legend in our campus like “batman” or “robin” .I began venturing out that too without a license .I had become a man, but I had still not learnt the most important thing , ”HOW TO SWEAR” at people , especially the evil cycle riders and pedestrians. Few of my first lessons came from the extremely humble car drivers honking from behind and respectfully calling me “
CHU**A”, “GA**U” …and. They were at a higher level in the “traffic chain” they had the full right to abuse me in every way they could. There was a good addition of words to my English, Hindi and Marathi vocabulary in few years and I used them frequently. In west honking horns is considered as a way of protest against bad driving but not here, honking is an integral part of Indian culture. There is a saying “honk before you drive” .I soon majored in driving a bike. Now I could drive a bike with my eyes shut, ears closed and mouth open. My bike became my second girlfriend (got promoted few years back). With properties very similar, troublesome and costly, my relationship
bittered a little bit (with bike of course). My bike had an amazing property of getting punctured at the most unexpected and urgent times. Not that it did not get punctured at expected times, it did that too. Normally the places where I would have a flat tyre would range from most populated narrow lanes to open highways. Soon came a time when I had become an expert in knowing the nearest place of the fixer. My popularity grew amongst the tyre repairers, as I was for few years their best customer. I also became an expert in analyzing a type of puncture. There are 27 types of punctures ranging from catastrophic puncture (where you have an instant flat tyre and can fall flat on face .I had 3-4 of these) to slow non-harmful punctures (for more information do your own research on the remaining 25). Changing the tyres solved my problem. The reason was the defective tyre used for the bike ( and the company claims to be the best in the world).Other than this I faced few problems. I had the liberty of driving as rash as I can. In my city the bikers rule.
chapter 3 : the divideAccording to a thorough research done by some famous unknown scientist there are two types of drivers.First type of driver, lets call it “X”, thinks that the world is ideal. There is no pain suffering in the world cause it always gets the preference. One should always drive in straight line irrespective of anything. One should drive at exactly 40
Kmph in the middle of fast lane. In case there are some accidents one should always swear in English at the other type of driver, lets call it “Y”. One should use words like Bast*rd (did I use less number of * ‘s ), As***e etc. and most important one should wear darkest of shades on the eyes. I can recognize this driver from miles.The other type of driver i.e. “Y” knows that the world is not ideal (at least for him/her) and drives.I had few experiences with “X” kind of driver; mostly they have their head and face covered. My sister is one of them. The “X” type of driver also gets concessions from the traffic cops and “Y” type will almost get penalized. That’s why there is a saying amongst “Y”: “ …
hai…
dand hai”
chapter 4 : The Mama and MeOne thing I still
didn’t learn till today, is dealing with traffic cops. I have a long history with them .I am kind of “History
sheeter”. I had got a license after just few months of getting a bike. Getting a license is not a difficult task especially in India .Few of my friends had never touched a steering wheel and they had full-fledged licenses. This shows the support the Indian government gives to its citizens by trusting them. But I would still say getting a license in Denver was easier. Traffic cops have many synonyms; “
Bagla” meaning swan due to their white shirts, “Mama” meaning uncle, the most commonly and respectfully used term. They are known for their love for bike rider’s especially male riders. Most of their funding comes from the urban, male bike riders. He would be wearing a clean white shirt and khaki trousers with black Ray-ban shades with golden rims.They strike you where you least expect; they are kinda super heroes at catching you. They would hide behind a tree, temple or any construction and pounce on you. The conversation would go on like this
MAMA: LISHENCE?
ME: (In Marathi, trust me knowing Marathi does help)
aahe naa (I give him the license).
MAMA: (little sad after seeing I have a valid license)
PUC aahe ka?
ME: Hooo ( Yes ! ) ( I give him the
PUC )
He checks the
PUC .His face whitens as he thinks ,how the hell am I supposed to feed my family or my dog.
He spits out his
gutkha on the road contributing to the “roadside arts” .
MAMA: INSHURANCE ?
ME: YES!
He knew I was a tough nut to crack and would disappoint him again. He has few more things to throw at me
MAMA: Gaadi che kagad patra aahet kaa? ( do you have bike’s registration papers? )
I get caught there.
ME: hoo aahet na pan
atta nahi ,
ghari aaahet ( I have it at home )
I could see a smile on him even though he was not smiling.
MAMA: bajulaaa yeee ( come to the corner )
Starts to scare
mee.
Not carrying RC is an offence! You should always carry the papers , now pay the fine. He starts
scribbiling something gibberish on his notepad .
MAMA: ( still looking down ) have to pay a fine of Rs 1000 .
ME: WHaaaaaaaaat! It is impossible .I do not work and am unemployed. Not possible for me. See if you can lower it.
Thinks for a while…..
MAMA: OK .
shambhar ( 100 )
madhe hoilME: ( still muttering and cursing him )
heee ghya ( Take this ! )
I am still
witing there .
MAMA : JAA ATAA ( go now )
ME : Reciept ?
MAMA: ( Angry )
JAATOS KA AATA ? ( GO NOW!!!! )
Oh that was a bribe! Great ! now I had become a small gear in the bribing culture. Paying Rs.1000 and getting a receipt would surely soothed my conscience but wallet speaks louder. Doesn't it?
My experience was always mixed. lowest possible was a drunk cop ( that too in the morning) at the signal caught me for having a wrong number plate. I fought with him tooth and nail insulting him and paying him the
shambhar without a receipt. Next morning the same cop came at the signal .seeing me he turned his back and went away ! There are few good ones who give you a receipt ,once a cop even gave me back my
shambhar ! The cops firmly believe that you are a criminal only if you get caught .In fact I have seen breaking the signal is more
advantageos than stopping at one. Innovation is one of the few things I have observed in traffic cops. Some time back, they had started using loudspeakers at signals .A cop used to give running
commentries at people breaking law.If you crossed the zebra crossing he would hurl an insult at you loudly :”
kaa ree baiko waat baghat nahi ka tuzi gharat” ( is your wife not waiting for you?) .There is always an increase in the cop activities when festivals are close by.
chapter 5: the theory“Traffic chain” like “Food chain” is fully respected by cops .they don’t touch the beings above the bikers.The
carwalas come just above the bikers ,
carwalas are so holy that they are never touched ,no matter how rash they drive.I have never been caught while driving a car! The traffic chain constitutes of pedestrians and animals at the lowest rung .They are hurled abuses by all the upper rung beings.then above the pedestrians come the cyclists . above it the motorcycle riders ,above that car drivers and to top it all the city bus drivers. I did not have much of an experience of city bus drivers as public transport is not my kinda transport .As brief spell of six months in Denver made me use it. City buses own the road .They are at the top of the pyramid .They can stop any where they want .Knock any one out. If you think Mr 007 has a license to kill ,these guys do the service to the society by reducing the population. Few months back , each day a person used to get sacrificed by them .Burning of buses was a ritual that followed it .bus drivers need to be fit to run long distances to save their asses , the situation has improved recently. Only few bus drivers get caught.
chapter 6: the adolescence I have been driving car since last few years , it is pretty cheap to own a car as long as you are not paying the expenses .I had learnt driving car longtime back. All you need to drive a car is confidence . That is all I had and still have. People always had doubts over my driving skills. My parents along few of my friends think that my driving is really rash. I would beg to differ ,I have a clean record .I haven’t killed anybody as of yet ( is there some wood around ). I know where the problem lies .Its with the undisciplined traffic. Traffic lanes are a kind of myth in my city. Reaching a place is struggle to the fullest extent. Foreigners are amazed to see this chaos. One of my friends from France, though she had stayed in India for 5 years, used to wear seat belts .She used to say “
Vous conduez comme vouz etes fous!” (you drive like a mad person) .Once she had turned completely white ( white in the purest sense ,she being a Celt ) with fear . This really opened my eyes to nothing .I still drive the same way. Multitasking is my forte .I drive while searching for that perfect song on my
iPod while rest of the occupants keep on instructing me to look in front. Mobiles are few things that I avoid while driving. My parents think I drive too fast.On expressway it is common for people to clock 120
kmph .My mom and dad keep on reminding me of this speed. Dad also keeps on giving me few fake examples ; our lawyer had nearly died in a car accident ,coincidentally he was also driving at same speed ( OK ! I would drive at 119 !)
chapter 7: the firangsDriving in US was a completely different story .Fines of $250 plus were common and that is a huge amount even in US. My “friend” reminded me not to blow away my salary on tickets. Driving on the left hand side was weird and difficult .I always get confused between RIGHT and LEFT. One of the few tension filled moments in my life come when people tell me “TURN RIGHT!” oh shit!! What is right ? I try to remember the hand I use…to write ( I am a lefty ) and then I calculate right. Is this the problem faced by all the lefties? I am not even a perfect lefty , I play a guitar using right hand and using the right handed notations. May be that is the reason. My instruction trainer could not guess. But once I faltered when he told me to turn left ,I showed the “wrong” indicator to right…he was angry .i said with a guilty smile “ Oh! I thought you said right” . On the first day of my driving in US we hardly knew any laws there .My
roomies and I used to discuss the laws and follow them real time . Many Americans protested against me by honking ! the very first day my honking count had crossed 10 . It subsided to zero eventually. Driving in US without a GPS is crime . We were lost thousand times and there is no one on the road to guide you. We had taken lot of precautions by taking maps and everything . Once it turned out that I had held the map upside down. I would certainly qualify for the worst navigator in the world. Back seat driving is one of the few problems faced by me. I get instructed at every turn and every square. Female species are the worst . They keep on shrieking at the slightest mistake ( Man I am a human!).One of my friends even complained that I drive too slow! Well that confused my ego!
chapter 8: the addendumWell I am not here to prove any point .this is what just came to my mind ! Hope I just keep on driving to my best and put all the controversies to the rest!
Rancho befriends two sidekicks...literally sidekicks, Farhan Qurashi( Madhavan) a wannabe Photographer and Raju Rastogi (Sharman Joshi ). Both of them have a limited role of a being Rancho's sidekicks. Farhan's Family is a middle class family which supports him in his study by doing lot of sacrifice. Same is with Raju's family only thing is that he is poor. His father is comically paralyzed and his mom is a typical B&W mom, reminding Raju the current price of okra (Rs.12 / Kg) each time.
They go out in a marriage as gatecrashers to find the "lovely" Pia ( Kareena Kapoor). She has a fiance who is just a rich jerk! Rancho just makes her realize that HE not the one. It turns out that this wedding was Pia's sister's Wedding (Mona Singh) and Pia is Virus' daughter!!! Shocking !!! Is it? Wait till you hear this. Pia is a DOCTOR!!!! Aaaahhhhh! Kareena is the last person on earth who can even be passed off as a doctor! Kambakth IshQ! Pia drives a cute little scooty with a cute little helmet and cute little spects! How cute!!! All three of the gatecrashers get discovered and thrown out! Meanwhile Raju's father gets a stroke of somekind and with no ambulance services ,Rancho gets hold of Pia and her scooty and saves Raju's Father. Pia becomes his friend.
