For those of you who don't know, A "scooty" is a type of scooter, the Indian/Asian version of a Vespa. My relationship with my scooty is symbiotic. It gets me where ever I want to go and I clean it and feed it fuel religiously.
I haven't named my scooter or anything. I prefer to call it "My bike", which annoys some of my friends.
"Its not a bike, its a Scooter!" they say. Okay. Whatever.
Now let me start with the multiple injuries I sustained while learning to drive, numerous stitches, warnings and practices later, I am the proud owner of "battle" scars and a drivers license.
Once, my scooty and I chased two morons, following a girl and whistling at her and I threatened to call the police and make a scene. They went on their way after that.
Driving with extra caution and obeying all speed limits, I once dropped a little girl to school. Another day I gave a lift to a flower vendor and dropped him in the market. His blessing had made my day.
My work requires me to travel a lot around Vellore. I learnt that there is no shame in stopping somewhere and asking for directions. My parents have learnt to trust me enough to ride with me sometimes.
Each morning 8 am when I rush to class, its my bike ride which preps me for the day to come. I take a road on the way to college, which I prefer to call "The street of life". I enjoy looking at the kids getting ready for school, their mothers braiding their hair; women by the tap, filling water in their pots; the vegetable and flower vendors; the fragrance of incense; grandpas reading newspapers on their verandas and the occasional mother who asks me to drop her kid in school; all of this while driving through five speed breakers. That's when I truly wake up in the morning.
Each day ends with me driving home in peace, finally relieving myself of a hectic schedule. There are times when I get stuck in a traffic jam. I get to hear new swear words to add to my vocabulary and honking which practically deafens me. Being the writer that I am, I try to guess the story of people around me. This guy is probably stuck in a bad job, this gentleman's wife doesn't know how to cook and so on.
Every once in a while, it rains when I'm driving and I get to ponder on all things beautiful. Sometimes, I see "cultured" people bothering another girl who is driving. In that case, my bike and I go, "Hey! That's my sister!"
