MOTORCYCLE JAUNTS

A way of life on wheels


When I first joined the American College as a lecturer I had a bicycle, which took me all over the town and gave me the exercise that I needed. But after awhile I decided to buy a scooter. Those days bikes and cars were not as easily available as they are today. I had to settle for an old Lambretta scooter.

A variety of bikes


I went about on this ramshackle vehicle mostly accompanied by my friend R.P.Nair, who worked in the same department. One day we were going over the Albert Victor Bridge when a great clanging was heard. A motorist overtaking us stopped and told us that a lot of parts had fallen from the scooter. Nair got off and went back some distance picking up various appurtenances of the bike, including the kick-start lever. Surprisingly the engine of the vehicle was running uninterrupted. We went straight to the mechanic where we had to spend over an hour.

After that I bought a Rajdhoot Ranger and then a Jawa. We went on several trips out of town on all these bikes. Sometimes we went to Tiruchi just to see a film that would have come to Madurai after awhile anyway. We never missed the Thiruvayyaru music festival. The roads were not congested as they are now, and so we made good time reaching the venue. Our friend G.Devarajan who was an expert in Carnatic music, explained to us the various nuances of each concert.

One year, I had to go alone to Thiruvayyaru since the others had left earlier. Just past Melur, a man suddenly stood in my way, brandishing a knife and signalling me to stop. I slowed down, and just as I neared him I swerved and accelerated away. He came running after the bike for a while and then gave up. It was a good thing that he didn't think of throwing the knife at my back. On the return trip Nair was on the pillion as usual, and all went well.

Almost every evening some of us with bikes went about here and there just for the fun of it. We also had races in the Madurai racecourse, which those days was deserted after dark. Another lecturer, Meston Fenn, on his old Lambretta scooter sometimes beat the Jawa and Bullet riders. Dhinakaran Michael of the Zoology department occasionally raced against us on his Jawa.

At about that time there was a young American, Julian Smith, who was in Madurai on the Oberlin Shansi exchange programme. Julian was a very good artist. I used to take him on my bike on sketching trips. He did several beautiful drawings of the Pudhu Mandapam and the street scenes in Madurai. He stood with a drawing pad held in his left hand and a pen in his right, with which he made a few deft strokes seemingly unrelated and then — Presto! — suddenly a picture emerged as if by magic. Intent on drawing, Julian never noticed that a crowd had gathered around him to watch. When the drawing was complete the crowd broke into applause, and only then did Julian become aware of the people. Blushing red he left the scene in a hurry.

I took him once to Thanjavur and he sketched several roadside shrines on the way and other scenes that took his fancy. Julian is now an architect and is in charge of designing the satellite campus of the American College on the New Natham Road.

Many lecturers went to Thekkady on bikes every year, and a lot of fun was had by all. Solomon Pappiah came on his new bike one year, riding with a great deal of nervousness, much to the amusement of all the others. On one occasion I went to Madras and back on my Jawa for no particular reason. Once I went to a village near Tiruchi with John Sahayam on his bike to attend the wedding of Samuel Sudanandha, who later became the Principal of American College. Sahayam had been my student at MCC and later was my colleague at American College. When we started in the late evening on our return journey, it started raining heavily. The visibility was very poor but fortunately there was very little traffic. After awhile the pillion rider got a liberal splashing of water on his back since there was no back flap in the bike. Soon we were both shivering and had to stop at a teashop. We exchanged places and took off again. We made several such stops to warm ourselves. The rain continued unabated until we reached Madurai.

The important thing in all these jaunts is the fact that the rider and the bike develop a certain chemistry for each other until the bike seems to be an extension of the rider. When this stage is reached, riding a bike becomes not just a pleasure, but a philosophy of life.

CARRYING THE MESSAGE OF LOVE

Playing cupid


During my school days we spent many vacations at the house of my great-aunt in Palamcottah (now Palayamkottai). Once when I was about eight years old, we went there as usual for the summer. Apart from my great-aunt, her daughter Promila was the only other person in the house.

Aunty Promila was staying at home doing nothing, perhaps waiting to get married. She was a rather plump and dark person, with round eyes that darted about and a chuckling laugh that was contagious. She had thick long hair that was parted in the right and worn in a plait.

Love beckons


After a few days of our arrival there I started noticing that Promila's darting eyes were mostly darting to the opposite building that housed a branch of the India Coffee House. A group of young men sat there at a table for quite a long time chatting and sometimes playing lively music on a banjo and a ukulele. One of these young men came out to the gate of the building and lingered there receiving and returning those darting glances.

One day as I was playing in the front yard, the young man beckoned to me from the verandah of the coffee house. "That uncle is calling you" came Promila's voice from behind a pillar. "Go and see what he wants". I ran across the road to the opposite building. "Thambi" he said, "Will you please give this letter to Promila aunty?" As I took the letter and started back, he said, "Don't allow anyone else to see it." I dashed back, and Promila eagerly took the letter from me and went off into another room. I went back to play.

Half an hour later Promila called me in. "Bobby" she cooed (that was my pet name). "Take this letter and give it to that uncle. His name is Mr.Kanagaraj." I took the letter from her. "And Bobby, please don't tell anybody. Please. Okay?" And I said OK and ran across the road again. Mr.Kanagaraj received me with great enthusiasm, took me to a table and ordered cakes and coffee for me. As I tucked into the cakes Mr.Kanagaraj avidly read the letter and then sat at a table and wrote a reply. I finished my coffee and ran back to an enthusiastic welcome.

This became a daily occurrence. And I had all the cakes and coffee that I wanted and more. Mr.Kanagaraj was also dark and stocky. I occasionally wondered what attracted them to each other. But then I had other things to think about like cakes and India Coffee. Promila and Kanagaraj got married shortly after and had a joyous married life.

Age approving of youth


It is said that childhood habits die hard. Even after I grew up I helped some of my friends hitch themselves to the girls of their dreams. And later, much later, when I was a senior lecturer in a college, I was called upon to help desperate lovers. One young man wanted to marry a girl with a physical handicap. His parents objected vehemently. So he eloped with her and came to Madurai. The Head of the Department of English, Dr.Paul Love was keen on helping this old student. And so was I. The lovers were well past the age of consent. So we collaborated on a plan that had the lovers married and settled. When all this was over, Dr.Love asked me: "How is it that we both get involved in such things so often?"

"Probably because we both have incurably romantic dispositions," I said.

"I was afraid you would say that," said Paul Love, laughing.

On another occasion two lovers who were in their early 30's had to elope because of parental prejudice. I was asked to transport the girl in my car to a place in the outskirts of the city. When I reached the place where she was waiting for me, I found that she had a refrigerator and other household appliances with her. Seeing my raised eyebrows she explained, "All these were bought with my salary. So why should I leave them behind?" I could understand her logic. But the logistics of the operation was all shot to pieces. I hurriedly engaged a carrier tricycle for an exorbitant rate and transported the goods and the girl. The lovers got married and are doing very well, with their own house and a good income.

Playing Cupid is sometimes an uphill task. But it has its rewards.