Sir, I once again dont have words to express my feelings for this. But these few lines are very well written and yes they do touch the SOUL. I once again thank God to provide me with a mentor like you.... Thank you so much Sir, for your guidance and your knowledge sharing. Thank you

I am at loss of adjectives for this post sir. I wish just the "like" could tell you how apt you are on every word.

Dear Old Fox sir,
Your writing leaves me dumb founded, and deep in thought every single time.
I am an avid reader since I was in kindergarten and have read countless books from countless authors over the last 18 years.
But not many can strike the cord in the reader's heart, the way you do.
I am in complete loss of words of appreciation for your writing and feel that a plain and simple Like button does not do justice to the master pieces you write.
Please keep sharing your words of wisdom.

Thanks for that heartfelt appreciation Shivanshu. As for being your mentor, well, you created me as one and so here I am and around Do find time for a cuppa on the terrace sometime.

Two decades and more of motorcycling and it still remains an indelible part of my life. Age makes one philosophical more than the busy youth allows. So here I share with you my fond musings below for a sport, a thrill, an adventure....no, the binding thread of life actually, something we ordinarily call motorcycling.

The one who rides...

Two decades and more of motorcycling and it still remains an indelible part of my life. Age makes one philosophical more than the busy youth allows. So here I share with you my fond musings below for a sport, a thrill, an adventure....no, the binding thread of life actually, something we ordinarily call motorcycling.

The one who rides...


Motorcycling permits a form of travel on land like no other. A motorcycle looks so very right leaning into a curve. It is not an ungainly box on 4 wheels that tries to tip over to the other side of the turn or goes all stiff legged through it. The graceful and natural lean-in is the way to flow through a turn and that’s what a bike does. It belongs to the road, the curve and to speed. The rider becomes a vital and huge part of the machine. The way he physically behaves defines the corporeal conduct of the bike. The two wheels might seem to make it a pointless childish contraption, something a ‘mature’ and ‘grown up’ must get beyond and step into a ‘respectable’ car instead. But think ‘speed’ and the whole childish and immature argument goes for a toss. This is real and with a potential to both kill and be killed on. And riding it needs to follow the old aviator’s adage – ‘It doesn’t matter what you do so long as you don’t hit the ground while doing it’.


The cold and dead hunk of metal springs to life with the push of the start button or that kick from a trained leg. The gentle idle of the engine is an inappropriate precursor to the possibilities of violent speed that hides within. A blip of the throttle does momentarily breathe fire but it is only when up and rolling that Goliath shows up for David to tame. The ride has begun in earnest. Each curve is special even after thousands have been swept through. It is almost like cocking a snook at gravity at a 100 kmph, leaning way over and beyond the tipping over point and rising again as if by magic. The wind laughs with the rider and even the bike joins in with a wink. Unlike ordinary vehicles that deny us the existence of heat, cold, odours and scents wedded to the sights, the bike rides immersed in each.

In gear, slipping in and out of the clutch friction zone, the bike is an eager stallion, raring to go and devour the road ahead. It moves and is immediately welcomed by the wind as its brand new companion. There’s anticipation, fear, astonishment, thrill and life ahead as the numbers pile up on the speedometer. The land around gets transformed from intermittent greenery to an emerald blur. The surroundings become a two-dimensional chimera. The finer details vanish, their importance diminished by the fractional time they exist in the rider’s universe before he flashes past them. As speed builds up, the roar of the fires within the engine is engulfed by the storm blowing past. The rider’s expression is etched in granite, despite the tips of his senses being ablaze with the passion for life. This is what he lives for. This is the moment when the machine comes alive, a possession becomes a companion, the innate gets infused with a soul. Life and death are the span of a lever and the twist of a grip away. Terrifyingly close and yet reassuringly apart. Life is as much up to you as is death. And the bike convinces you to live.


There sure is always that bit of ‘look at me’ about motorcycling. The same words we spoke as little kids when those first few steps were taken unassisted, the first bicycle ridden without supporter wheels, the first jump across a 4 foot chasm and those first few marks of a pencil on paper that had meaning for everyone as a word. The ‘look at me’ probably remains so fundamental to life and does surface quite startlingly and shamelessly even for a staid 46 year old tourer. He loves the attention, even if momentary and loves motorcycling for it during those moments.

They come in all shapes and sizes and makes and models but all have two wheels, an engine and a rider on top. Each subordinate too to the Gods of Physics with only superlative riding skill a way to get real close to their holy altar. The machine doesn’t teach but obeys unconditionally. Jam the brakes at 100 miles an hour and they will jam, locking the wheels and sending both the bike and the ride spinning into oblivion. Fiercely fearless unconditional obedience that the rider fears and respects. And so learns to be a wise master to his devoted disciple. He might pretend to slip, slide or fall once in a while with a deliberate slide, slip or wobble. And then slip slide or fall without pretence by offending the Gods that be. Greater than them the rider cannot be and so they sigh at his insolence and leave the punished with their pain and the lessons it contains. When on a motorcycle, there ever is a fine line between horror and happiness and the clearer you see the line the closer you have been to the former and farther from the latter. But this fact, even though we tend to deny it, just adds to the lure of the bike. You do it, over and over again for an entire life-time and revel each moment for that steady stream of thrill and astonishment it provides. And then it tops up with being a great equalizer – who you are and what you own is way less important than what you can do as a rider. So don’t break bike, don’t break self and finish each ride upright! Happy motorcycling.