Ever felt that some things just happen? No explanation would suffice… All theories fall flat on their faces (By the way, do theories have faces? If they do, I am sure they would have the geek-look, but (as usual) I digress) so where was I, yeah, sometimes some things just defy logic. No explanation suffices (Didn’t I say that before, anyways…)
Let me just give a small example to prove my theory (I wonder what kind of face would my theory have :?) Well that example is not that small, my bike actually weighs around 150 kgs, and I don’t think that could be classified as small. And yeah, the example I am talking about is my bike. My bike is unique (I know that as per Indian laws, all bikes must be registered and must have a unique number on the number-plate, and thus all bikes are unique) I know the argument, but here I am not going to rant about the number (which incidentally is unique :o), I will instead focus the spotlight on two rather unusual traits of my bike.
First is my bike’s unsavoury affinity with the dirt. No matter how much time I spend every morning dusting my bike, wiping it dirt-free, cleaning it, making it shine like a nayi-naveli-dulhan (Why do only the nayi-naveli-dulhan shine, why not the dulha? Is it another feminist issue that no matter how much a groom is groomed (Hey that alliterates And it seems I have solved the mystery as to why a groom is called a groom), there is always room for more grooming to be done. And so only the nayi-naveli-dulhan can be termed as shining? But – yet again – I digress) so every morning I clean my bike, render it shining, and the next morning it is swathed in dust. I can actually draw in the layer of dust (although my drawing prowess could hardly put a three year old doodling kid to shame). I must get my bike checked; I think it has some magnetic powers 🙂 From where does so much dust descend? Hyderabad is not that dusty!
unusual unique feature of my bike is its horn. I keep on pushing that small black switch (humming to the tunes of A.R.Rahman & Jatin-Lalit & Anand-Bakshi & R.D.Burman (when I am in the 70s mood) & S.D.Burman (when I want to sing along a Hemant Kumar song – by the way I have no clue as to any music director of any Hemant Kumar song) and synchronizing the horn to the tunes. This also means that I am a great singer and music composer and I would be more then willing to sing at any occasion where people are not prone to violence 😛 Yet again I deviate from the topic, my attention span seems to be competing with the time Ganguly spends in walking to the pitch, giving catching practice to the fielders around and getting back to the pavilion. We both are competing to force the 2-minute Maggi noodles to change its jingle to something that echoes our emotions. Ahh! Yet again I digress, I have spent more time & lines on the digression part then the actual post 🙂 ) Rewind a bit… I keep on pushing that small black switch and it keeps blaring but no-one apart from me seems to have an ability to hear the horn. Be it a 4-lane-road or a narrow alley, the horn is as useful as a chopstick while eating a alu-paratha. I honk and honk and honk and then I stop ‘cos the guy walking ahead cannot hear my super-natural horn and hence refuses to yield way.
As I have said twice before (and I’ll say yet again) – No explanation would suffice…