The Letter Series : Activa-ting Memories
Remember I wrote a case study series on relationships in the budding times of this blog? (Ya ya, apart from the love, failed relationships, and other poetry on loneliness, sorrow and the like)
My recent posts are mostly about the Mahabharata or philosophies about life. With the desire to do something new and different, I cooked up this idea of writing letters. (How original, eh?!!)
Letters to who? Anyone or anything! Living and non-living, entities close or distant, emotions own or observed... Happy reading!
A Letter to my Activa
How are you, dear?
Yeah, I heard that. That sigh of relief that I’m not riding you anymore... That crazy perpetrator who made you taste the dust and kiss the rocky roads a hundred times. I know. I’m sorry. You see, you were bright and new, and so was my riding. Besides, you are aware that my weight during those times was not quite enough to balance you or hold you up. As my brother often said, me on you looked like “a macchar on a bike” (I have NO clue whatsoever where and when he saw this sight of a mosquito riding, but bhavnao ko samjho!)
I still remember the day we welcomed you into the family. Apparently, you were bought for me coz I had to go to college and a million other places, and the bus and auto fares were depleting my meager resources. (Petrol wasn’t so expensive then, but I hear it’s gona get cheaper. Cheerio!) But, what finally happened was that dad and I shared you; a decision that really incensed me, coz I hated you being handled by two individuals with opposite driving styles. (More on that later...)
So, well, I treasured you and loved you no end. All those jazzy keychains and regular servicing. (Bet you miss the pampering since I handed you over to Daddy dearest!) And ya, I agree I also hit you more than a few times, banging you on people and vehicles alike as I could not manage your load and power.
It was fun racing you at the speed of 60 (your sautan Scooty barely copes with 40, but she’s more handy, you see. Haven’t hit her once. Touch wood!) I used to go back and forth from Camp and KP to home sweet home, and not once did you let me down. And now when I see you not starting up to take Dad someplace, or when I hear you broke down somewhere, I really feel bad. You were so loyal to me! Thanks baby!
Ya, I know. He makes sure you discover the depths of each and every pothole, and he doesn’t give you your complete fill of fuel, but that’s his way sweetheart! Learn to cope with it! Not everybody is like me!
(I know humility is the finest thing on earth. And I have no qualms in accepting that I trail behind in that department. You see, I can either be honest or modest; not both together!)
You took me from my house to Scream in a record 6 minutes almost daily, and Natasha (you remember her, don’t you?) used to say my bestest, wittiest and quirkiest one-liners came when I was riding you like Lady Schumacher (later learnt that Rossi is the two-wheeler pro, so Schumacher could rest in peace.) A few of which are : “Kya uncle, dance kar rahe ho kya?!” and “Oye Saaaikalll” (cycle)... It was superb!
And the time I banged you near Sangam bridge, man... The worst accident of my life. Mum said each time I went to see someone off, I ended up with a dash. Be it a friend or a relative. She forbade me from dropping anyone, coz I couldn’t control the spate of tears thereafter...
Now when I see you, I feel a weird sense of nostalgia. Yet, you seem very distant and impersonal. Even when I ride you, once in a blue moon, due to unavoidable circumstances, I get the feeling that you and I don’t belong. Not only have you lost your sheen and glamour, but you’ve also aged. Horn chhodke sab bajta hai aur break chhodke sab lagta hai... Hehe... Kiddin! You aren’t that bad yet, but ya, you’re certainly not what you were in your youth. Who is?!!
You’re 6, aren’t you? Scooty’s turned 2 this December. Though she’s pretty useful and petite, I still miss you. You be nice, and don’t give Papa much trouble. OK?
Love you, take care!