As my close friends already know, I have recently acquired for myself a bicycle. It a very light trail bike, the Firefox Target 21 speed. Now some of you, the cycling enthusiasts to be precise will instantly decry my choice of brand. Wondering why I did not take the time to research the topic and opt for an obviously better choice in an imported brand. To you guys all I have to say is, I didn't so shut it. It was an impulsive decision and so far it does not seem to have been a terribly bad one. Also I already bought the damn thing, crying about it now wont do jack. For the rest of you here is some never heard before news.
Cycling is Awesome.
I dont think I am capable of describing exactly how awesome cycling truly is, but in this post I intend to try. It is a vast experience filled with lasting pain and cramps and sweat and rainbows. And a little bit of Unicorn magic for good measure. I have been cycling everyday about 10 Kms and I cannot stop gushing about it. Everywhere I go, I go on my bike. Riding around like a boss, dodging those mean boulders (pebbles) and blazing my own trail where none existed. Every time I open my mouth, the cycle slips into my conversations somehow, followed by a manic glint in my eye. Every night I go to bed, with my legs aching and my back hurting and my body relishing in the bliss of muscular reconfiguration, I smile a little. My brain relaxes a little, pats my monkey head and reassures me.
"There there fat monkey, you did a good thing. Rest easy."
"Dont you dare touch that banana"
And I sleep the sleep of Kings and Conquerors, eager to wake up the next day and step on my loyal steed for another round of questing around Gurgaon at 5: 30 AM. Dont get me wrong here, Im not saying cycling is all fun and games (although it mostly is). There is pain. Loads of pain. Like any physical exercise that involves me not occupying the same spot until I sprout fungus, My body vehemently opposes the concept. Every morning as I rise out of bed I can literally hear my muscles creak, groan and moan in tiny anguished whispers. They crowd around my ears screaming in their indignant tiny voices.
"We deserve to be heard "
"We are the 99%."
"Just sleep it off you moron."
And it's not just the muscle pain. Being a cyclist in Gurgaon is kinda like being a Cowboy in the Wild West of movie lore. But without the guns, or the cool hats. The cows are there of course, as are an angry horde of motorists who apparently cannot cross the meter length of my bicycle without completely losing their shit. I assume the thought of sharing space on the road is so alien to Gurgaon motorists that their minds spiral out in a horn blaring ragecoma. Unable to comprehend and thus accept this strange creature on two wheels who is able to circumvent all traffic jams.
That coupled with the fact that we have enough dust floating around Gurgaon to create many a mini dust Taj Mahal, means that every time a "Fast Jat" in a fast car zooms by they kick up a thick cloud of dust for me to breathe my way through. Then there are moments when after a long stretch, as you are pedaling up an incline and just about ready to give up, the sun comes out and basks you in all it's glory. Pouring down waves of heat and bright light onto you. Making you wish you were sitting inside an AC car with cool water running over your head.
But then there are the good times. Moments when that sheen of perspiration licking my skin suddenly dries off as the wind picks up. And I feel myself cool down a degree or two as my natural AC kicks in. Moments when fat clouds roll lazily over the sun, granting me cool merciful shade. Moments when you turn onto a stretch of empty road the sky puts on it's song and dance with the Sun and the Clouds playing hide and seek for an audience of one. All because I am there out on my cycle, pedaling on to bear witness. Moments when I hear the thunder on my back and race home a coming storm. Times when I zoom through a bad stretch of road only to pass by the Mercedes that had coughed up a dust cloud in my face. The driver too scared of scratching his super expensive chassis.
And I laugh. I laugh at the Sun in my face, the wind in my hair. I laugh at the lounging low clouds grinning down at me from the sky. I laugh because when I cycle, I tap into something primal. A feeling old and possibly lost. I tap into a spirit of adventure. A feeling of excitement many of us might have forgotten. A feeling probably shared by the earliest of our explorers and pioneers when they set out from their little clusters of comfort and braved the elements, alone, unhindered, free to go where they may choose. The pathfinders of our civilization.
This isnt just a cycle, this is my magic carpet, my chetak, my steed noble and true. This is my freedom that can take me anywhere I want to go, anytime I want to. This here is my ride, and when I do ride..I live.
Cycling is Awesome.
I dont think I am capable of describing exactly how awesome cycling truly is, but in this post I intend to try. It is a vast experience filled with lasting pain and cramps and sweat and rainbows. And a little bit of Unicorn magic for good measure. I have been cycling everyday about 10 Kms and I cannot stop gushing about it. Everywhere I go, I go on my bike. Riding around like a boss, dodging those mean boulders (pebbles) and blazing my own trail where none existed. Every time I open my mouth, the cycle slips into my conversations somehow, followed by a manic glint in my eye. Every night I go to bed, with my legs aching and my back hurting and my body relishing in the bliss of muscular reconfiguration, I smile a little. My brain relaxes a little, pats my monkey head and reassures me.
"There there fat monkey, you did a good thing. Rest easy."
"Dont you dare touch that banana"
And I sleep the sleep of Kings and Conquerors, eager to wake up the next day and step on my loyal steed for another round of questing around Gurgaon at 5: 30 AM. Dont get me wrong here, Im not saying cycling is all fun and games (although it mostly is). There is pain. Loads of pain. Like any physical exercise that involves me not occupying the same spot until I sprout fungus, My body vehemently opposes the concept. Every morning as I rise out of bed I can literally hear my muscles creak, groan and moan in tiny anguished whispers. They crowd around my ears screaming in their indignant tiny voices.
"We deserve to be heard "
"We are the 99%."
"Just sleep it off you moron."
And it's not just the muscle pain. Being a cyclist in Gurgaon is kinda like being a Cowboy in the Wild West of movie lore. But without the guns, or the cool hats. The cows are there of course, as are an angry horde of motorists who apparently cannot cross the meter length of my bicycle without completely losing their shit. I assume the thought of sharing space on the road is so alien to Gurgaon motorists that their minds spiral out in a horn blaring ragecoma. Unable to comprehend and thus accept this strange creature on two wheels who is able to circumvent all traffic jams.
Just me against the world.
That coupled with the fact that we have enough dust floating around Gurgaon to create many a mini dust Taj Mahal, means that every time a "Fast Jat" in a fast car zooms by they kick up a thick cloud of dust for me to breathe my way through. Then there are moments when after a long stretch, as you are pedaling up an incline and just about ready to give up, the sun comes out and basks you in all it's glory. Pouring down waves of heat and bright light onto you. Making you wish you were sitting inside an AC car with cool water running over your head.
But then there are the good times. Moments when that sheen of perspiration licking my skin suddenly dries off as the wind picks up. And I feel myself cool down a degree or two as my natural AC kicks in. Moments when fat clouds roll lazily over the sun, granting me cool merciful shade. Moments when you turn onto a stretch of empty road the sky puts on it's song and dance with the Sun and the Clouds playing hide and seek for an audience of one. All because I am there out on my cycle, pedaling on to bear witness. Moments when I hear the thunder on my back and race home a coming storm. Times when I zoom through a bad stretch of road only to pass by the Mercedes that had coughed up a dust cloud in my face. The driver too scared of scratching his super expensive chassis.
And I laugh. I laugh at the Sun in my face, the wind in my hair. I laugh at the lounging low clouds grinning down at me from the sky. I laugh because when I cycle, I tap into something primal. A feeling old and possibly lost. I tap into a spirit of adventure. A feeling of excitement many of us might have forgotten. A feeling probably shared by the earliest of our explorers and pioneers when they set out from their little clusters of comfort and braved the elements, alone, unhindered, free to go where they may choose. The pathfinders of our civilization.
This isnt just a cycle, this is my magic carpet, my chetak, my steed noble and true. This is my freedom that can take me anywhere I want to go, anytime I want to. This here is my ride, and when I do ride..I live.
