Ever dreamt of owning a superbike ? Ever dreamt of being a Baazigar ( haarke jeetne wala) ? No guys i am no movie freak but the other day i just happened to witness, from close quarters, the saga of brother-sister love and the stuff that hindi movies and fairytales are made of. Or so i thought.
Well the protagonist of our family drama is the ever affable and unassuming Mr. Nitesh Naidu.
Before giving you the rather surreal details of this drama may i take some time out to throw some light on this creature of god, christened Nitesh Naidu. Adroit, as this task is, coupled with my feeble powers of narrative, i hope Naidu will forgive me for any mistakes made in the following narrative.
To begin with, the biggest calamity to befall Naidu is that more than three quarters of this world addresses him as Naidu (yours truly included). According to recent reports though, there has been a sudden rise in the usage of the word 'Nitesh', although only in certain parts of the densest tropical forests of Africa. There are more chances of someone being hit by lightning twice than someone addressing our protagonist by his first name (what was it again ?. Gosh i dont remember). However, not to digress, Naidu has been, to cut a long story short, quite the punching back of our college group. He has been the target of innumerable pranks and jokes. Readers who have watched Rajpal Yadav's plight in the 'hold-your-stomach-comedy' Hungama would quite relate to Naidu. It is said that there is this unpredictable chap up there who has created two kinds of creatures with opposable thumbs- one group is the punching bags type while the other group is infested with boxers. Unfortunately for Naidu, he fits into the former. However he has been one of the most graceful punching bags ever. He has taken many a punch with the kind of grace attributed usually only to a ballet dancer.
However, coming back to our plot, it was sheer boredom on a saturday (boredom on a weekend - my life must suck!!!) afternoon and an age old promise, details of which i shall not part with now and save you miserable souls some trouble, that forced me to set about on an arduous journey to aundh. Arduous i say because the road to aundh is more crater ridden than even the surface of the moon. hell why did they send Armstrong to the moon, they could have well sent him to Pune. And my miserable Splendor (for those fortunate friends of mine who skipped middle school and graduated from a cycle directly to a car and also for other lesser informed losers, that is my bike. ) doesnt quite help either. However after a ride that gave us ( for the record my good friend and most often my partner in crime and ...er.. boredom, Aliasgar a.k.a Ali, was with me) the feeling of a million camel rides we finally made it to our friend Kaushik 'jailbird' Deb's place of abode. Little did we know what was to unfold at Dynamic Deb's place.
We were discussing the investigative prowess of Johnny English, when the serenity of the sunset and the chirping of the evening birds ( some crows included ) was disturbed by the rather harsh yet pulsating firing of a super bike. It was then that the Dynamic Deb spoke those words "Oh that must be Naidu. He must have come to show off his new superbike" . His voice had the calm and the assurance of a young Buddhist monk not given to wordly pleasures ( and superbikes ) . Ali and i jumped so high that the legendary Sotomayor would have definitely felt little. "What!!! Naidu got a superbike.WTF how did he manage a superbike", screamed my brain in the blaring silence of that mind numbing moment, although this man of humble origins had enought dignity not to say that aloud. Sure enough Naidu - the punching bag - entered, with a fata-poster-nikla-hero air about himself. Naidu, the sensitive man that he is was quick to hug us in his hour of glory.
Soon we were outside Kaushiks house marvelling at that awesome product of mechanical engineering of the highest quality. Yes, it was a superbike alright and a Yamaha at that. A Yamaha R1 to be more informative. Ali and i had gone numb. Kaushiks father, someone who has known Naidu since his school days, knew exactly how big an achievement this was for him. This was probably why he offered to remove his car from the garage to make place for Naidu superbike. Even if that wasnt the reason, i think he was completely justified in wanting to trade his Zen for Naidus latest enviable possession. After all The Bike Maketh the Man. On further quizzing, our Man of the Moment informed us that his cousin, who lived in the US, had been the generous and kind ( i hope she reads this someday ) presenter of this Gift extraordinaire . Apparently his cousin, referred to hereafter as the best-cousin-in-the-world-who-is-also-rich, had felt a moment of great pride when she had learnt that Naidu, a guy who means well, had secured a job while in senior year in college. This, in Naidu's words was way beyond what she had ever expected of him. It was this, and i would think a meteoric rise in her bank balance, coupled with some high level contacts in the customs department, that prompted the best-cousin-in-the-world-who-is-also-rich to do what she did. By this time my cousins in the US must have had a zillion one hiccups because i just couldnt help but think of them. I had just taken a vow unto death - that of investing more time in my cousins and especially in those in the US. I am also a person who completely believes in the fact that some plans cannot be foolproof.Therefore as a back up plan i gave Naidu my business card for him to forward to his cousin..yes yes the same best-cousin-in-the-world-who-is-also-rich. Ali, as taken aback as me, was a little more practical. He started out with doubting the authenticity of the bike. He started off in a manner reminiscent of a Sherlock Holmes movie without the pipe ofcourse with yours truly playing the role of the unassuming and relatively gullible Dr. Watson. Questions and doubts emanated out of Ali's mouth at the speed of light. Nitesh was even quicker in replying to them. That is quite understandable as one can expect really high adrenaline levels in a moment of such glory that most of us may never bask in.All of us enjoyed a ride on that machine extraordinaire and soon it was time to say goodbye to both of them, Naidu and his bike. And so as all of us watched Naidu fade into the horizon we could still hear the firing of that bike reverbrating in ears and sometime later in our minds. My heart rate took some time to come back to normal.On the way back home from Kaushik's place i couldnt help but notice that not a single bike on the road looked as inviting as it had earlier. One after the other proud owners of CBZs and Pulsars raced past us but all Ali and i could manage was a huh-u-have-just-another-bike kind of a look.
Something in the early hours of the day had suggested that the day would be an unforgettable one. Given that i had seen the early hours of the day was an unforgettable experience in itself. But what followed was truly unforgettable. And as i retired for the night i was eagerly waiting for the sun to rise coz Naidu was coming home...on his bike......
Well the protagonist of our family drama is the ever affable and unassuming Mr. Nitesh Naidu.
Before giving you the rather surreal details of this drama may i take some time out to throw some light on this creature of god, christened Nitesh Naidu. Adroit, as this task is, coupled with my feeble powers of narrative, i hope Naidu will forgive me for any mistakes made in the following narrative.
To begin with, the biggest calamity to befall Naidu is that more than three quarters of this world addresses him as Naidu (yours truly included). According to recent reports though, there has been a sudden rise in the usage of the word 'Nitesh', although only in certain parts of the densest tropical forests of Africa. There are more chances of someone being hit by lightning twice than someone addressing our protagonist by his first name (what was it again ?. Gosh i dont remember). However, not to digress, Naidu has been, to cut a long story short, quite the punching back of our college group. He has been the target of innumerable pranks and jokes. Readers who have watched Rajpal Yadav's plight in the 'hold-your-stomach-comedy' Hungama would quite relate to Naidu. It is said that there is this unpredictable chap up there who has created two kinds of creatures with opposable thumbs- one group is the punching bags type while the other group is infested with boxers. Unfortunately for Naidu, he fits into the former. However he has been one of the most graceful punching bags ever. He has taken many a punch with the kind of grace attributed usually only to a ballet dancer.
However, coming back to our plot, it was sheer boredom on a saturday (boredom on a weekend - my life must suck!!!) afternoon and an age old promise, details of which i shall not part with now and save you miserable souls some trouble, that forced me to set about on an arduous journey to aundh. Arduous i say because the road to aundh is more crater ridden than even the surface of the moon. hell why did they send Armstrong to the moon, they could have well sent him to Pune. And my miserable Splendor (for those fortunate friends of mine who skipped middle school and graduated from a cycle directly to a car and also for other lesser informed losers, that is my bike. ) doesnt quite help either. However after a ride that gave us ( for the record my good friend and most often my partner in crime and ...er.. boredom, Aliasgar a.k.a Ali, was with me) the feeling of a million camel rides we finally made it to our friend Kaushik 'jailbird' Deb's place of abode. Little did we know what was to unfold at Dynamic Deb's place.
We were discussing the investigative prowess of Johnny English, when the serenity of the sunset and the chirping of the evening birds ( some crows included ) was disturbed by the rather harsh yet pulsating firing of a super bike. It was then that the Dynamic Deb spoke those words "Oh that must be Naidu. He must have come to show off his new superbike" . His voice had the calm and the assurance of a young Buddhist monk not given to wordly pleasures ( and superbikes ) . Ali and i jumped so high that the legendary Sotomayor would have definitely felt little. "What!!! Naidu got a superbike.WTF how did he manage a superbike", screamed my brain in the blaring silence of that mind numbing moment, although this man of humble origins had enought dignity not to say that aloud. Sure enough Naidu - the punching bag - entered, with a fata-poster-nikla-hero air about himself. Naidu, the sensitive man that he is was quick to hug us in his hour of glory.
Soon we were outside Kaushiks house marvelling at that awesome product of mechanical engineering of the highest quality. Yes, it was a superbike alright and a Yamaha at that. A Yamaha R1 to be more informative. Ali and i had gone numb. Kaushiks father, someone who has known Naidu since his school days, knew exactly how big an achievement this was for him. This was probably why he offered to remove his car from the garage to make place for Naidu superbike. Even if that wasnt the reason, i think he was completely justified in wanting to trade his Zen for Naidus latest enviable possession. After all The Bike Maketh the Man. On further quizzing, our Man of the Moment informed us that his cousin, who lived in the US, had been the generous and kind ( i hope she reads this someday ) presenter of this Gift extraordinaire . Apparently his cousin, referred to hereafter as the best-cousin-in-the-world-who-is-also-rich, had felt a moment of great pride when she had learnt that Naidu, a guy who means well, had secured a job while in senior year in college. This, in Naidu's words was way beyond what she had ever expected of him. It was this, and i would think a meteoric rise in her bank balance, coupled with some high level contacts in the customs department, that prompted the best-cousin-in-the-world-who-is-also-rich to do what she did. By this time my cousins in the US must have had a zillion one hiccups because i just couldnt help but think of them. I had just taken a vow unto death - that of investing more time in my cousins and especially in those in the US. I am also a person who completely believes in the fact that some plans cannot be foolproof.Therefore as a back up plan i gave Naidu my business card for him to forward to his cousin..yes yes the same best-cousin-in-the-world-who-is-also-rich. Ali, as taken aback as me, was a little more practical. He started out with doubting the authenticity of the bike. He started off in a manner reminiscent of a Sherlock Holmes movie without the pipe ofcourse with yours truly playing the role of the unassuming and relatively gullible Dr. Watson. Questions and doubts emanated out of Ali's mouth at the speed of light. Nitesh was even quicker in replying to them. That is quite understandable as one can expect really high adrenaline levels in a moment of such glory that most of us may never bask in.All of us enjoyed a ride on that machine extraordinaire and soon it was time to say goodbye to both of them, Naidu and his bike. And so as all of us watched Naidu fade into the horizon we could still hear the firing of that bike reverbrating in ears and sometime later in our minds. My heart rate took some time to come back to normal.On the way back home from Kaushik's place i couldnt help but notice that not a single bike on the road looked as inviting as it had earlier. One after the other proud owners of CBZs and Pulsars raced past us but all Ali and i could manage was a huh-u-have-just-another-bike kind of a look.
Something in the early hours of the day had suggested that the day would be an unforgettable one. Given that i had seen the early hours of the day was an unforgettable experience in itself. But what followed was truly unforgettable. And as i retired for the night i was eagerly waiting for the sun to rise coz Naidu was coming home...on his bike......
Comments
there's a silver lining here though...ask naidu the mileage of the bike...he'll tell u in a "actor-guy-whom-simpson-asks-mileage"esque style that "1 on highway...0 in city"
cars interest me more than bikes though...imagine a bentley or a rollroyce or even better a F1(that'll leave any superbike ever made biting the dust...proved on Topgear)...then again mebbe dream on.
...for the nut has left the building.
Excellent..
Dude, your style of narration is too good.
Your are truly blessed with godly power of narration.
Pranav keep it up and do post more.