Baseless rants, Growing pains

A Pillion Dollar Tale

There are many discomforts in life. For some, it might be a broken family. For others, it could be reheated coffee. Well, all the same.  It is excrutiatingly painful.

I have had my fair share of discomforts. Even yesterday.

The reason for the recent malaise was the pillion ride with my friend’s husband.

After the usual chaos I tend to create every time I travel to a new place, I arrived at the specified ‘Marathalli Bridge’. Apparently the route to Day-Z’s place is convoluted and so she had asked her husband to pick me up from the aforementioned place.

Now, in my 25 years of existence, I have been a pillion rider n*(n+1) times. And a very good one at that. Dad, uncle, cousin, friendly neighbor, unfriendly church member, random stranger, snobbish colleague – See, I am kind of level 18 in this thing.

But what happenned yesterday… That was new, scary, embarrassing and hugely discomforting. I had to backseat-ride with a friend’s husband. I have never done that!

At first I thought I had it under control. One has watched enough Tamil movies and knows how to position oneself in such situash’s. You know, In the backseat of an unaquainted HABs member’s bike. (HAB being the male counter unit of the WAGs). All in control.

So, I sit behind him, both my legs on one side of the bike, a good 20 cms gap between Day-Z’s man and self. Kinda like the picture below. But definitely not that close. (Btw, Do they do this only in India? This style of pillion riding?)

Pillion Dollar Rides

Next, the bike begins to move and plonk, I go slam into him. *Oh please don’t get me wrong. I am not that type*. I hastily blurt “Oh, Sorrrry”.

Now, I had purposely worn a salwar kameez because Day-Z never wears jeans and I wanted to blend in with her family atmos and such pure intentions. And within a few minutes on the bike, I cursed those pure intentions. My dupatta started to fly. Bag in one hand, trying to hold the flying fabric with the other, I thumped his back thrice. Multiple sorry’s poured from my mouth.

Somehow I managed to roll the dupatta into a ball, and just as i was about to feel relieved, I was greeted by ‘Work in Progress’ signboards in all shapes and sizes.

Bumps, Potholes and more sorry’s. My face was burning with embarrassment.

What would he think? Is he thinking I am falling on him on purpose? Not just once, or twice… almost 10 times? Will he hate Day-Z for being friends with me? Will he think I am a perv? Will he suggest to Day-Z that I tried to grope him or something?

But what could I do! What could I do at all!

There are some things that are not yours to control. Broken families, reheated coffee, a combination of bad roads, pillion riding and a friend’s husband.

It is cruel. It is unbearable. But a few brave souls survive the pain…

… and live to tell the tale.

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