Blood brother

Sunday morning was a really sticky one today as I dragged myself to Beniapukur bazaar for the bothersome necessity called food. Bazaars are very colourful places with the whole spectrum of colours encompassed by the sellers, shoppers, fruits, vegetables and the other riff-raff. When the sweat is not pouring out of your very own sweat pores like someone has installed a little pump in you and you don't look as if someone has just dunked you in a tank full of sweat, the charms of the bazaar may just work on you. But today was not such a day!

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So shopping bag in hand, I moved grim faced from vendor to vendor, usually buying stuff from the very first seller of that particular item be it tomatoes, capsicums or garlic not really bothering with what was "the best" in the market or the best priced! Not that I ever took the pains, but today there was even more incentive not to put myself through the torture. Then came a motorcycle lazily gliding through the milling crowds of people parting them down the middle like a swimmer in the pool. As the motorcycle passed me in slow motion (after all, a crowded bazaar is no place to use the accelerator), I saw a very interesting little sticker on the rear mudguard which conveyed the rider's thought process.

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The sticker said "I don't ride fast, I just fly slow".

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The weather didn't feel so hot any longer. A cool breeze of release blew through my mind as I thought of my own two wheeled ride waiting patiently inside my garage at home. And I smiled... a very evil smile!
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[Do not be foolish enough to consider everything stated above as an incentive to speed. Drive and ride safe. Reach home. Alive. With all limbs in their respective places. Let others on the road do so too. Please.]