Rash Race with RS in Rush-hr..

After a regular Friday outing, my last stop on way back to the KiiT campus.. was at Arifin. I just wanted to check on the status of classes and say a few Hi's. First, I bump into our cheerful CA, Chinmay (Has a CBZ). He conducts me inside and offers to get the Net going. I agree and settle in front of the swank, black desktop. Meanwhile, a session that was in progress in one of the classrooms- dissolves into a flow of MBA hopefuls who have just been recharged with reasoning fundas by Logic Guru Rohan Sinha (RS).

Rohan is a meek looking geek whom you would pass off for a cheeky Greek. Hang On. Let me hug him. Pat him. "Hey, Long time, No C++". He replies, "Naah, not even Dot Net or ASP." We guffaw together until I noticed the reddish swelling on his upper lip. This guy is a crash-magnet. Every week, he meets with an accident that either gives him a chipped ear, a swollen arm or a black eye. And the narrations that he gives outlining the history behind the incidents are innocently chilling. More later.

After trading word-puns, I suggest shopping to be the next item on our itinerary. I am convinced to the contrary and plans fall through. Instead, the SPIC MACAY performance at our multi-purpose Campus 7 auditorium is up for grabs. We concur and decide to make it there ASAP. Today, this chap has a Bajaj FoolSir 150 to ride back. And I kick my Dicover 125 to life. Arifin is located on the NH-5 but luckily in the shadow of the flyover that diverts much of the traffic. But, a funny traffic arrangement forces you to take a detour of 300 mts before you can carry on with your trip towards either CRP or Chandrasekharpur.

I rev up as usual and zoom onto the tarmac. But, the meek geek is in his zip-mode today. He flies by me signalling a challenge- A Race ! Umm.. Mmm. I'm ready, Chum ! I accelerate and tilt to left to go ahead towards the detour turn. 25 metres past the auto stop, a greedy auto-wallah screeches to a halt in the middle of the 3rd lane to pick up an unsure passenger. I was at 60 and had barely 10 metres to negotiate my way out of peril. Brakes Locked. And the spine-chilling skid stopping centimetres from the sonofawitch's death-carriage. I had no time to curse and snaked out of the slow, 180 degree turning traffic in front of TTD Kalyan Mandap. 

After making the turn I catch up with him to tell that I just escaped an accident and let's get back to business- of getting into accidents! We scare a bunch of rustic cyclists who are crossing the busy lane on foot, trundling their bicycles lousily. A shriek from the horn and a buzz of changing headlights ensured that they scurry for cover. The race officially begins 

from Jaydev Vihar. From under the flyover. 7 kilometres of chocabloc rush-hour traffic. 5.55 PM. Town buses, SUVs, cars, autos, goods-laden lorries, mini-trucks, bikes, bicycles. Absolute mayhem of dizzying lights and screaming horns. Perfect for Me.

I know this guy was no joke the moment he overtook me near Pal Heights. Vrooming away at 75 on the torque fuelled by a 150 engine, he is out of a poor bike's grasp. But, I got other skills to make up. Weaving in and out of the stumbling bumbling four-wheelers and through the maze of scooters and stupid bikes, I leave him in smoke near Fortune Towers and take the edge till NALCO square where a big crowd waited for the green signal. I make my way between the waiting vehicles to the front-line and position myself for the take-off. Yeah, you need to fly now. The stretch between NALCO and Damana is a clean death zone with an average of 3 deaths every month, especially near Chandrasekharpur Petrol Pump.

Rohan somehow manages to sneak up behind me and grins at my surprise. We renew the challenge and set our watches. I drape the loose end of my turban about my face to avoid smoke, dust, dirt and recognition. Green. Launch Time. I fly away on an angry-sounding engine into the slow car-mass that had come from Sainik School side and had just been let off.. The landmarks pass in a flurry of seconds- Railway Bhawan, CSPur Petrol Pump, OMFED, Nigama Comp. But, all the while I can sense the struggling Pulsar on my side. Damana square is just emptying and I make up the fag-end of it. Dunno if he scrapes through or gets stuck.

The bottlenecks near Club-City and InfoCity square are a real test. Cattle conferences are in progress at all times of the year. Reebok Showroom and Koel Campus are distractions in a really lethal part of the 6-lane tar-patch. And Kanan-Vihar Phase II is the choice for the bumpkins to commit suicide for sundry reasons. Just walk into the lane- And the next moment you might be playing the harp. I don't care or dare to check on him- my fellow racer- Rohan. My concern is Magnet Square which is the ultimate bend in the road. A 7 metre-wide passage to let trucks, wagons, cars, cows, bikes, babes and as-wholes to go towards or away from KiiT. I bully my way into the mess and out of it. I have a race to win.

The lazily walking couples and friend-packs have no idea about what the bikers have at stake. They walk on the wrong side of the road and jump puddles as if they are in a park. Darkness aggravates the situation. And the crowded restaurants and shops on either side had mess up my target. Nevertheless, I go like a hot knife through a slab of butter until Chintan Square from where you turn left for Campus 7. This stretch houses the nastiest of potholes, pothills and stop-signs. 

10 seconds is all that I take to reach the parking lot where I kill the engine. 10 seconds later, Rohan grins his way in. Something compels him to scream, "I've won". I disgree emphatically and table my stats. He switches to the morbid pictures of cheating death on two occasions- once stuck between two trucks and another of almost ramming into a two-wheeler. I brush him off with my experience but was shaken nonetheless. 7 kilometres in 6 minutes. Sweeet. We compare our shivering palms and stride into the foyer of the auditorium. Seeing the humdrum drummers I refuse to go inside. He makes a classic statement: "Come on, Isn't this what we risked our lives for?". I realise, how cheaply I had bet my LIFE. I repent. But, race.. I will.