I never knew that the boot of the Volvo was so damn spacious! It felt like crawling out of the Trojan horse. It would be fatally suffocating for thirty people (allegedly, the capacity of the Trojan horse), but comfortable for ten, a modern SWAT team of ten could party in there while preparing for an assault.
“You need to pay three hundred” I heard the attendant call and froze.
Stowing my bicycle in the boot, I was about to get inside the AC coach.
“Why?” I asked.
“For the cycle” he answered.
“But cycle is luggage, isn’t luggage free?” I argued.
“No, for cycle three hundred”
He is cheating me. He will pocket the money. There is no way I am going to pay, I decided.
After the 400km ride from Bangalore to Kurnool , I paid fifty rupees for the bicycle and one fifty for me to reach Hyderabad
“Can I get it booked properly in the reservation counter?” I asked hoping that he would consider talking to the higher officials for my rights as a threat.
“No, pay me” he said
I ignored him and walked to the reservation counter.
“I need to take a bicycle in the Volvo. Can I get it booked here?” I asked interrupting the officer who was pouring over a reservation chart.
Say there is no need, say it is free, I prayed.
“Ask the conductor, he will load it” he said without even looking up.
My foot! I loaded it myself.
“Do I need to pay anything?” I asked
“The conductor will tell you” he said and I cursed.
“Bhaiyya, three hundred is too much, make it one fifty please, student concession” I pleaded accepting partial defeat.
“Two hundred”
“Bicycle bhaiyya, fifty rupees environment concession, one fifty please”
“Two hundred final”
“What’s the problem” asked a burly looking ksrtc guy looking inside the boot. With pleading eyes, I told him about my pitiable student status and the exorbitant bicycle transportation charges.
“The pedals will spoil the matting if the bicycle slides. You will be fined two thousand rupees, you have to take them off” he said and left.
I was shocked but recovered quickly, extracted two hundred rupee notes from my wallet and thrust them in the conductor’s hand.
“Barabar?” I asked and hurriedly left the scene before I could be asked to dismantle my bicycle!
During the journey, every jerk and every bump made my heart skip a beat. The bicycle had endured worse situations, I was worried about the matting!
“Bangalore
4am and already in Bangalore
I was doing my M.Tech in Bangalore Bangalore
I took out my cycle, and after a few preliminary checks started riding towards JP Nagar.
The deserted streets, the dark sky, eerily rustling trees, streetlights casting spooky shadows of all shapes, my shadows overtaking each other again and again, the deafening silence, the cool breeze and an occasional chirrup – cycling was bliss!
Hisssssssssssssssssssss…pluk pluk! I stopped and, hoping against hope, craned my neck to look at the rear tire, it was flat! Bliss vanished!
I was immensely enjoying myself and now this! A puncture at 4:20am in the morning, the pessimist in me started cribbing.
Would you rather preferred it to have happened on the pitch dark national highway in the dead of the night with the mighty crosswinds?, asked the optimist.
Why should it ever happen? This is the problem with cycles, I will soon stop riding, cried the pessimist.
Guys we now have the opportunity to learn how to fix a puncture. It’s something new, useful and exciting to know. So let’s buy a puncture repair kit and start experimenting, intervened the optimist in me.
With the chance to learn the art of fixing a puncture looming high on the horizon, my spirits were considerably risen and I started pushing my cycle, heading towards JP Nagar, around 20km away, it would take 3 hours at least.
“Accident?” asked George another friend from B.Tech and Ranjeet’s roommate.
“No, puncture” I said laughing.
The stairs leading to the house were very narrow so I had to carry the cycle and the front wheel separately, my cycle has a front quick release.
“I am going to kill you” I muttered while holding two legs of a four legged table.
“Don’t worry GJ, the girls will think you are so sweet helping your friend” he replied smirking.
“My foot, they will think I am an attendant in a furniture shop” I retorted.
Ranjeet had to return a table to his relatives and we were carrying it through the crowded fashionable streets of Jayanagar, going to a place where the autowala refused to go. Smart and pretty girls were all around, looking down upon me!
The entire day I was busy helping Ranjeet in preparing to leave Bangalore
“Now go to the bathroom and find out where is the puncture” said George.
“I know!” I retorted.
“You don’t know anything. You could have got the puncture fixed for ten rupees but instead you go out and buy this stuff for hundred and fifty” he said pointing at the three plastic tongs, puncture patches and glue.
“It’s important to learn” I shouted going into the bathroom.
I was trying to fix the puncture, George was bossing over me and Ranjeet was packing his stuff.
There were no bubbles oozing from the tube so we stuffed it back into the tire. It got punctured again! It was George who found out the problem. He meticulously examined the tire and found the culprit, a little nail, comfortably lodged in the tire. I wanted to throw it in the fires of Mount Doom
“Abey, hamare puncture hoon jayega” shouted Ranjeet angrily eyeing the pin while trying to stuff his CPU into a gunny bag.
“Silvadunga” I said picking up the pin nail and dropping it in the dustbin.
“This is beyond me” exclaimed George and I had to agree. Now, after fixing the second puncture, the air started escaping through the nozzle!
“Will get it repaired in a shop” I said and stuffed the tube in my bag.
“I could have done it without you” I said noticing George smirking.
“Will you guys now help me?” asked Ranjeet now struggling to pack his monitor. George ran to his aid and I sat mourning beside my bicycle.
Ranjeet left Bangalore
3 days later
“Guys you need to go to ABB twice a week” said Prof. Jyotsna.
“But ma’am, we have a very hectic schedule and it’s a two hour journey changing three buses” we protested.
“Sorry guys, maybe you can arrange it with your mentor but as of now this is the plan” she said with a note of finality in her voice and we filed out of her cabin, grumbling about the hectic college schedule, the crowded and the snail paced buses.
Cycle, I decided.
It was the first day of our visit and I was having second thoughts. A meeting with some program manager was scheduled and it was vital we all be present. Cycling, apart from all the merits, is risky especially if the schedule is tight.
Firstly, I was not sure of the exact location, secondly, puncture, it could delay me indefinitely.
“Let’s meet at the bus stop at 1:30pm” everyone else decided and we parted.
I ran to my room and still pondering, opened Google maps and made a rough map. It was 20km away and seemed easy enough to locate.
In an instant I decided – cycle!
I started fifteen minutes early, lost my way a hundred times, took the most roundabout route and reached ten minutes before the others. I was happy; I hate to keep people waiting for me. The best part – I was not at all tired!
Sitting listlessly in the meeting, I was longing to get back on my bicycle. It concluded after 40 minutes during which we were asked the usual questions – areas of interests, work experience, specialization and short introduction.
More supermarket was looming on the horizon and I stopped for some shopping. After 20 minutes, my backpack was labored with pickle, ghee, oil, mtr poliogare mix, chilli powder, bread etc etc.
I was looking forward for bath with hot water and delicious poliogare when I noticed that my bike was wobbling a bit.
Shit! Rear tire punctured!
I had an extra tube but it is now useless. The front quick release makes changing the front tire tube very easy. I had everything to fix a puncture except one thing – water in a vessel to zero in on the hole in the tube. I sat debating what to do – pushing the remaining 15km, take an auto or finding a repair shop; the fading light telling me that I don’t have much time to think.
It would be awesome if I fix it, a huge boost to my morale, I thought. I mean, puncture is the worst fear of any motorist, conquering it is a must.
I took out the kit, stuck in the tongs, pulled out the tire, tore out the tube from the tire, pumped in air and concentrated hard; above the din of the traffic I could hear the fading sound of escaping air. After filling in air about five times, I could finally locate the puncture. Now, fixing was simple and by the time darkness engulfed me, I was ready to go. I couldn’t believe it! I fixed the puncture in about fifteen minutes and that too without water! I conquered a cyclist’s greatest fear!
I reached home by 8:10 and started cooking puliogare.
“When did you reach?”
“8:10, got late, went shopping and then puncture”
“Oh, even then you reached earlier than us. We reached at 8:20, got stuck in traffic jam and couldn’t get a bus from silk board”
I couldn’t help smiling.
But alas life is not always smooth. On the third time, a bigger nail pierced the tire and scratched the tube all over. Had to get the tube changed. Used a self-repellent tube this time; seems it has some liquid which will expel pierced objects and seal itself.
