Disclaimer: This post has got nothing to do with Che Guevara or Marxism. It's about being a biker in India, and let me tell you, you don't feel the wind in your hair you feel the dust in face and smoke in your lungs. But again this post is not about pollution either. It's just the memoir of someone who drives a two wheeler to reach to office. Anybody who has ever ridden a bike in India would be able to relate with my post and anybody who is a keen observer on the road will understand how we roll on the manic roads of India. So after somehow making myself agree to go to work, I take my bike and start my hike. It's a treacherous journey of 16 km or 35 mins. Driving in India involves a lot of maneuvering; it’s like a hurdle race. And every day we bikers come to the road to achieve the longest distances in the shortest time. To describe the Indian road scene in the morning, let me take an analogy of big jar with lots of big and small stones in it and then if you fill ...
A sneak peek at the inner workings of my mind :-P