Full Throttle

Click.

His 180 CC pulsar roared into life. The machine was new, just a month old and he cared it like his baby. No it was his baby. He could feel the shudder through his spines; it went across his arms to heart and then let the adrenaline flow. He made the grip on the left hand a little loose to adjust the clutch.

Click

Gear one.
The baby picked up its momentum, like a newborn trying to make it first step, it waggled. But his assured hand just let it didn’t go. The speedometer climbed it journey up.

Click

Gear two.
The RPM ascended, he checked his rearview mirror, and his home was becoming a dot. Soon it will be a smug. The kuccha road would soon give away to well maintained National highway. There he would be free bird.

Click

Gear Three.
Green signal gleefully welcomed him to take his much awaited left turn. The indicator was already on. The weeping sound of the blinking light pierced his WEGA black helmet. He didn’t want it to be there, but somehow it got there.

Click

Gear Four.
Chilly air swirled across his blazers. He hadn’t covered his front buttons, so he became the superman. Speedometer quickened its ascend. The places on either side became part of his history. The future was coming down, becoming present and then gone…it was past. There were two trucks in front of him. Gently he turned the accelerator, baby wriggled past its worthless prey. Brightened eyes were streaking across his opposite side. He closed his eyes for sec and then regained his composure.

Click

Gear Five.
110 Km/Hr, the bike grunted and showed his anger. But he didn’t mind it, after all why did he buy a 180. The pages of the journey were turned over before it could be read. Name boards, pedestrian pathways, night lamps were becoming history. Now he was not riding. Not Anymore.

Screeching sound. Metals entangling in between and…just pain.
He could see people around all staring at him, what happened??????

There was something wriggling across his chest. White man with spec took his wrist and laid down on the bed. Nervous looking white angel was staring him like he was dead.

“ How many bones are broken” he asked. But nobody replied. He asked again and once more the silence answered. They all went towards the door. One by one escaped to the world outside. He could see his mother trying to get one glance of him.

Click

Door closed.
A few seconds more then he could hear the loud wailing from outside.

The Sacred Question

He looked around, still befuddled. He couldn’t understand it. He tried so hard but now he wanted to know before he slept and he was feeling sleepy, guardian angel has started their song for the night. First he thought he would ask Chechi , but if it was a stupid question chechi would make fun of him. He hated that.
And even if she knew she doesn’t know how to say it. Then there is grandpa, he could explain but its too late and he would probably have slept. Ma has said him not to disturb while he is taking rest. She says only naughty boys’ calls their grandpa while sleeping and he was not a bad boy. Ma, would be still in the kitchen, she will be sleeping only after pa comes and Ma won’t mind telling him at this time, for that matter anytime.

He loved his ma…..Very much.

He put off his satin bed covers and put on little slippers with Mickey on the flaps that aunt molly had presented him last summer. He was not that afraid of dark but he didn’t like bugaboo. Ma says bugaboo don’t eat good boy and he was a good boy. The white curtain facing achu’s house suddenly fluttered, he ran to the hall with his teddy tightly held in his arms. He ran across the mahogany table with out lumbering pa’s Chinese vase in obscure corner between the table and the wall.
Spicy aroma of nutmeg and cardamom was spewing from the kitchen.she was making something new,she experiments only in the night when everybody has slept. If its good he would be getting it tomorrow. He loved whatever Ma made. Ma was a very good cook. Everybody use to say this.

“Ma” his inquisitive soft voice called her.

“yes kanna, you are still awake ?” she said with all her concentration on the dish-in-making.

“No Ma, I couldn’t ….”

Dish-in-making suddenly lost his creator, she turned towards her son.

“why honey…did you have any nightmares”.
“No Ma….its just question.” He said in a subdued voice as if what he is going to ask may something utter stupidity.

“Ma, how are babies formed…?”

A question of evolution asked by 7 yr old – the most sacred secret answer yet so commonly known to everyone …Ma was speechless for a minute. Then she smiled.

“kanna I would tell you how you were formed when you were a baby.”

“Anybody who needs a baby has to get approval from god, you request about the kind off baby you want like for example I and your dad asked for you to be smart and cute so you are now. Then the god will decide whether permission should be given or not. The god would think for about some ten months regarding this. In this duration he would add on the features that the parents asked for and after ten months a baby is given you”

“Whooooooooooooo” pressure cooker screamed at the top of his tongue.

“did you get it…”
“ so I was made like that ..umm…yes” he said with his gleaming eyes wide open.

Dish-in-making suddenly got his creator back.

“Now go to sleep …you need to be in school tomorrow” she said with her assertive voice

“Good night ma” he was thinking again.

“So achu was wrong again…..there is nothing called sex and all right??”

“whooooooooooooo” pressure cooker showed it agony.