The Initiation

It was a March evening. Night to be precise.

We had been and were breaking our head and sweating guts for the event next day. "Fest-O-Com", or "Festival of Commerce", the inter-college competition conducted by the our college's Commerce Department, for commerce students from other colleges. Lots of things were not yet decided, such as who will give the Welcome Address, contents of the Convenor's Address, which we were required to prepare and get the approval from the Department Heads and other faculties.

And everything was to be ready by the 7.00 AM next day! And it was less than 10 hours to go.

There were guys working in lots and groups in different directions on different things. Entire stage was decorated and set up by the students. No third party contractors. Designing, erection of structures, everything was being done by students. Chairs were organized and security arrangements made only by students. Considering the ruckus that was created couple of years before in the event, we were told to hire Private Security Agency for the event. But considering the budget shortage, we could not. But we had an able hand in JJ who marshalled all his cronies and resources in arranging, what I consider the best security arrangement possible. And JJ was my classmate.

Myself, Nanu and Prakash were busy scripting the Welcome Address, Vote of Thanks, Convenors Address etc. Me and Prakash were the designated as MCs. Prakash, the flirt he is, was busy draining the balance in somebody else's mobile phone, asking repeatedly the same question "Appuram? .... Then? ... Oh? ....", in between explaining how busy he was. Me and Nanu were left to complete the task in our hand.

Enter Abu.

Abu was the first real spunk I had seen. Loads of attitude, cool as hell, eternally cheerful and extremely handsome. He was our college's Tom Cruise. He also rode a bullet - the big daddy of motor cycles in India.

I had always been having an eye on his bullet, his dad's 1984 Model, which he rode it from Coonoor till Trichy. Blue coloured bullet with chrome adorning the side of the petrol tank.

I don't borrow anybody's bike. I had never borrowed one. I was never interested in the bikes of others. I will either sit in the pillion or worse walk my way for long distances. I have never asked any person for their bike. Even if they were owning my then favourite-cum-dream bikes - CBZ and GF170. But then none of them had a bullet.

Abu joined me and Nanu to write all the speech. Some four hours later we had done with our speeches. Nanu drafted and finished my part of the speech (I was to make the Welcome Address) - a poetic little speech, rhyming and invigorating at the same time. Me and Abu had finished off the Convenor / Chairman's address, with Abu suggesting the following tagline from Nike's 1996 Atlanta Olympic Advertisement (widely criticized, but known only later to us) - "You Don't Win Silver, You Lose Gold". We were extremely happy with the way the speech had come out. In fact, the last couple of hours were spent only on how best to finish the speech.

After finishing it off, at almost 1 in the night, we wanted to refresh ourselves and I pillion rode with Abu on his bullet, to have, what else, few cups of tea, a few hundred metres away from our college campus, opposite the Government Hospital. Some of the other guys had also come down there with their bikes. A few RX 100s, couple of Splendors, One GF170, couple of scooters, many TVS 50s, some cycles and Abu's Bullet.

All through our talk, I could not resist looking at Bullet. While drinking the tea, I bluntly asked Abu "I want to ride your bike once".

And he flatly refused. It did nothing to my enthu. "Daei, please da, just once, I promise I will never ask you thereafter".

"No. I have already heard that stuff hundred times before, only to see it broken thousand times later. No way."

"C'mon da, just once." Ashish had also joined me on the begging trip.

"Guys! Grow up. I say no. And I mean no. Bulleteers don't share bikes."

Frustration was the getting the better off me, and I had to use the Brahmastra against Abu, for making him budge. "Abu, don't forget what I have done for you."

He stared at me for a while. He realized what I was referring to. His Girlfriend. I had helped them get in touch with each other. An information which nobody else was privy to. He then relented, but not without passing a jibe on me. "Saeri da, maama". He threw the keys at me.

I grabbed it excitedly. And I sat on top of that monster, and was fiddling with the key to find the keyhole. I found none. I looked at the speedo. I looked at the space nearby. I could not find the keyhole still. Abu grabbed the keys, and directed me to the ignition keyhole on the store box on the right handside, which also housed the battery and filter.

Then I released the kick-start lever, placed my foot on it, and tried pushing it down.. but it didn't move. With all the might I had, I tried to heave it down ... still it didn't move. It was simply stuck at that level. I raised and put my entire body weight on my right foot on the lever, still the lever refused to budge.

Abu came around once again, pressed something called as "Decomp" and asked me to slowly move my foot pressing the lever for couple of times. "Now", he said.

I kicked it the lever very hard, and experienced what I came to know later as the notorious "Bullet Backlash". Embarassing no doubt, but the mystery of starting the Bullet had me in pains. "Let me start it for you." Abu said, and with a few slow motions on the lever with his hands on "Decomp" and once smooth kick, the Bike had come alive.

I was beaming with my teeth ear to ear. I pulled back the clutch, put my right foot down on the road for balancing, and placed the left foot on the foot rest, to switch gears. And I found none. "Its on the other side, da". The gears were on the right hand (leg) side. I balanced the bike with my left foot, and pressed the gear using my toe. "Kacchchaak" was the sound, as I raised the accelerator, and slowly releasing the clutch. The monster jerked forward and stopped. I had switched directly to the second gear.

"Place your toes below the lever, and push it gently upwards for first gear. Second, third and fourth are downwards." Abu was teaching me. He once again started the monster (Bullet Backlash still hurting me), and I hooked the gear lever from down to move into the first gear.

Bud Bud Bud Bud. "Remember, God Rides the Bullet". Abu said.

And soon, I was riding the bullet. Ashish was the pillion rider. Soon the whole of my mouth was wide open. I rode it towards Cantonment, a couple of kilometre stretch, free of any traffic (if you can discount the ruminating cows sitting in the middle of the road). Cool air was mildly caressing my face. My long hair (now history!) was tickling my ears, and Ashish's nose, who was way too close to me. Ashish was complaining about it. "Get a hair cut soon." (Little did I realize that I might soon never need hair cuts).

I was all smiles till the rountana near Ayyappan Temple.

It was heaven. It was a dream. Unbridled Happiness. Profound Experience. Heights of ecstacy. Was almost in a trance, when I pressed the brake, at the Rountana. We were to swap positions while returning

And then the jolt. I had improperly shifted gears, and therefore, when I stopped the bike thinking it was neutral, it was in the first gear, the bike jerked forward as I released the clutch, and monster stopped breathing.

Neither of us were in any mood to take risk (read starting the bullet, fearing yet another backlash). Ashish was angry that I did not let him ride, and he was even more angry at me for making him push the vehicle. Though we swapped places every 100 metres, he was still mad at me. Some 500 metres later, Ashish decided to give it a try. Couple of tries later, the Bullet breathed.

We sat on top, and sped our way to the tea shop, where Abu was anxiously waiting for us.

He came forward, with his hands stretched, "My baby", and I stretched mine. He ignored me, and hugged the petrol tank, and kissed the speedo. "My baby" he said once again. The bullet was idling with the exhaust pushing out meaty thumps very smoothly. "Hear this, this is the sound of a perfect beat. Hear this again. Bud Bud Bud ... " Abu was explaining of the music that he found in those beats.

I stood there watching him, envying him for what he had - the bullet and his love for it. Move over, CBZ and GF170, I thought. I knew what my first bike (out of my earnings) would be.