reddy!

A recent survey discovered that Bangalore’s ‘pothole density’ is less than 5 potholes per km. "That is lower than many other cities, so don’t you dare complain about roller-coaster rides and your irrational fear of mass spondilitis!"
But I cruise through these inane little reports knowing my brand new (and shiny red) Pep will glide over any damn pothole. Of course, I’m not allowed to subject it to experimental or purely self-aggrandizing ill treatment just for kicks till I make 1000 km. So I do an insipid 30 kmph, frequently being jolted out of my skin and shamed to unbathed nakedness when an impatient old kinetic Honda honks, discovers some plastic still covering the body armour, and HAHAs pompously. His assumption: new bike = new rider = LL = worthy only of treatment meted out to cyclists (also unfair, btw). And that means footpath-scraping. I bite down scathing remarks about his chappal still flashing its price tag, because, well, I’m the bigger person on the newer bike. With cheaper, more handsome chappals from a guy who sutured Gabbar Singh’s shoes. (Yes, it matters)
You know the unsettling quiet brought on by blocked ears? When you feel like screaming "I’m too young to not be able to eavesdrop anymore!!"… only, you can’t hear yourself scream. And turning a deaf ear to your own voice is just wounding. After years of zipping around in a joyously noisy oldest model Scooty, disquieting silence is what I experience today on the Pep (the slick new Scooty). I almost panicked. Why can’t I hear metallic clanging?! Why can’t I hear put-putting as I pause at the traffic signal?! Why can’t I hear a sickly wheeze when I accelerate?! "Well honey, I’m new, two strokes more than my thatha, and you just paid a bomb for me," the Pep seems to murmur.
So now I won’t try my best to hear an assuring all’s well clang. I will set my sights on the red zzzzzzziip I’ll be on the road instead of the green horse wagon. I just sold nostalgia for new paint. and I christen her Reddy.