BORN A BIKER

It is interesting, but irksome over time, to come across the popular representations and notions of a ‘biker’ in a world obsessed with definitions. For most people, a biker must be a rebel. This rebel could be the ‘bad rebel,’ guys who snatch gold chains, race illegally at midnight or pull wheelies to scare old women crossing the road. Or it could be the idealistic, rebel de misfit- the biker who rides to the Himalayas in search of peace, wears his hair long, despises a nine to five job, and owns a bullet.
But how is a doodhwala who swears by the hardiness of his Rajdoot any less a biker? Or a young boy who wishes to get bigger just so that he may be able to ride his father’s motorcycle?
We all, in fact, are born bikers, if you ask me. It’s societal conditioning that later drills misplaced ideas of ‘practicality’ and caution into us. Then, we avoid getting wet in the rain, dread speed, and are wary of freedom. The aim of existence becomes a smooth and comfortable journey to the grave, with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body.
But then, some day, we realise there’s something wrong with this arrangement. So we set off for pilgrimages to holy lands, try some yoga, or seek the guidance of a spiritual guru. But gentlemen, there’s a better way of putting things in place- ride a motorcycle.
That’s because riding a motorcycle is not just about the thrill of speed or the pleasure of the winds caressing your face. A motorcycle is a wonderful teacher. It constantly reminds you of your mortality even as it lets you feel invincible. It teaches you that a good hairstyle would not stay for long, or that no matter how expensive your Levi’s is, it will retain a grease stain for life. It is a memoir of the young girl’s soft hands from the time they held on timidly to the backrest, to the time they arrived on your shoulders for support.
Motorcycles tell you you’re alive, alive to experience all the beauty and rush this world has to offer. And as a popular saying among professional bikers goes, “You don’t stop riding because you’re getting old, but you get old when you stop riding.”