Forward, Shifting Gears — In the Wind the Henchmen Ride
Vehicle horns from all sides, ambulances front and back, and a traffic jam up ahead —a miraculous rescue in the midst of a stressful situation
9 am, not the best time to be out in Bangalore city, especially on a cruiser which takes as much space as a hatchback car. The traffic impeding my progress, two wheelers slipping between nooks and corners — just another day in the city.
Not sure of the gods I have appeased, but I always get pleasure of being suffocated with vehicular smoke. But today, in the midst of a traffic jam, I became an unwilling participant in what I can describe as nothing short of a miracle.
So there I am, at one of the busier signals in Bengaluru — an infamous junction which joins the highway on one side and the business district on the other, where people slip in despite the red signal, and where standing for two or three turns of the light is the norm.
As I am waiting for the signal to turn green, a long line of cars and buses in front of me, I hear the wail of an ambulance siren from somewhere behind. As usual, the vehicles start honking in unison, and I too join for the heck of it — my own vehicular horn being shrill and ear-piercing, a device which I leverage the most.
Almost as if giving in to our incessant noise pollution, the signal turns green however there is already a long line of vehicles waiting to proceed in the road adjoining the signal. The smaller two wheelers, as is customary, start cramming in every nook they can find, complicating traffic even further.
So, there I am sandwiched between vehicles, an ambulance on my back, when suddenly the siren turns into a cacophony. It is at this point I realise that another ambulance has entered the arena — this time from the left — placing me in a grave predicament. I am about to shut off my engine, given that the traffic isn’t moving anyway, but somehow it doesn’t seem right.
Flustered from my inability to move nor give way, I start honking relentlessly. I look around and I see two other bikers — both riding Enfields, one with a wild boar silencer and another equally loud — doing the same thing, which is when I realise that we could actually do something.
Neither a word is exchanged between us nor a gesture. I am unsure what unfathomable idea melded between us but the moment the traffic moves a little, both of them are on either side revving up their engines, while I honk relentlessly. The ambulances immediately take cue and line up behind us.
And then we start.
Never do we break the line nor stray off path — the three of us a makeshift battering ram for the ambulances hindering stray vehicles’ path. While the buses upfront do occupy a substantial portion of the road, the three of us block two wheelers, cyclists and pedestrians from entering the space between us and the ambulance, as we steadily move forward.
Our advance is slow but we are moving a lot faster than a traffic gridlock. Soon, the people given in to our cacophony of horns and engine bursts and start moving aside into tighter nooks, while some of the smaller two wheelers still try to join in. Our relentless march however, does not allow them to.
In the midst of the blare, din and engine roars, I feel the sense of purpose for which I became a rider. I cannot really put them into words, for no words were spoken between the three of us nor were we under orders to help someone. Just like a stranger who fixes a kid’s bicycle or the lone wanderer who gives directions, we took it upon ourselves to make way for someone who might be saved.
The next signal, the traffic police looks at what we’re doing and waves us through. And as we proceed further, the road clears up and we let the ambulances through. One of the ambulance drivers gives us a thumbs up.
As the three of us come to the adjoining signal, we nod at one another and proceed in different directions without a word — as anonymous as our respective introductions.
I have always had this notion of how nasty bikers are in the city with their indiscipline and showing-off, but today’s events changed my perception. I don’t know who those bikers were, nor did they know me. But it’s amazing how a common understanding brought us together to perform such an incredible feat.
I have always believed that in the heart of a true biker lies a greater respect for life — for I have always felt the highways teach me the same thing. Seeing it in others has reinforced my own notion. For now, I’ll rest easy knowing there are bikers who will do what it takes to save a life.
Headline — courtesy of Testament
