Live another Day

 ‘Hey, point and shoot! Focus on the job we are here for!’

A ‘yes’ was all I could muster, embarrassed, in the middle of a thick jungle inside the famous tiger corridor of India.

I picked it up, the fickle Sony digital camera hanging from my neck and clicked the tigress out on her morning walk with her cubs in tow.

A couple of clicks and I had forgotten about the camera in my hand already. I was overwhelmed with the beauty and the poise of that ferocious animal as it strutted confidently in its home – the wild.

Before I knew, she had found herself a clearing amidst the tall trees where the foggy morning sun kissed the ground. The dew was still fresh and the occasional gust of wind sent a chill through my spine as it weaved its way through the forest. I needed the warmth, even under the three layers but getting any closer to the magnanimous beast was never going to be a good idea.

But, she had already begun basking in the golden light. Her cubs toddling around merrily, running and stumbling, jumping and clowning while chasing a butterfly. They hit each other with their paws, bit and rolled over fighting over a twig of grass.

It felt as if I was sitting in front of a 2000-inch widescreen curved AMOLED TV watching a 10-D film replete with climatic and physical effects and what not. I was anticipating Sir David Attenborough’s deep silky voice beginning to say “How can they become the most ferocious carnivores fit to be the kings of the jungle? Those bundles of fur, if they looked at you right now, would make you melt. Would you believe that in six months, this little cubs would have had stalked, hunted and ruthlessly killed dozens of other animals just to satisfy their hunger?”

And I would have been in awe of it, just like I am now. But those judgmental thoughts haven’t crossed my mind yet. I was enjoying the moment. As one of the cubs strayed a little further away in its jolly, mama tiger would just snarl a grunt out. The cubs would just leave whatever they were in to and scamper back. We sat there in the jungle, still and quiet spectators, witnessing the beauty of the rustic life of an animal – a beast when it is in the hunt.

That’s exactly when I saw some movement from the corner of my eye. Far to the right of this clearing, were large shrubs and mid-size trees. I could see the rustling leaves giving away the path of another wild being. As it came closer, I could see the sharp tusk of the wild boar heading in the direction of the clearing where the tigers were having their morning picnic.

I almost jumped at the thought of seeing a real wild kill. The predator in its full glory, pouncing on its prey who is no walkover itself. The boar is known to be a tough nut and a fierce fighter. The duel would be epic. The cubs were too young to participate but mama tiger was huge and supple. The boar looked stocky and its thick skin was glowing in the sun that had climbed further up in to the sly.

The boar, running through the foliage with its head down, passed through the bushes and was just entering the clearing when the tigress snarled at one of its cubs. Its ears popped right up and its front legs stretched ahead. And that is when I realized that the way Pumba braked in cartoons all these years was the real deal. The boar froze when it heard the snarl and stood there like it as a piece of furniture. It stood there still staring at the tigress with its eyes wide open.  

The tigress must have already heard the boar coming, its hearing much stronger than us humans, especially the urban dwellers. As she snarled, she looked in the direction the boar was coming in and saw it freezing to a stop. But she was full and unlike the sapiens, animals do not eat or hunt unnecessarily. So she just turned her head around and looked the other way.

That was the cue the boar was waiting for. It just turned around in one swift motion, completely unlike its clumsy demeanor. And run it did. Run for its life, run away from the hunter. Not that it was being hunted, but you could have seen the spook in its eyes just before that cue telling it could live another day. 

That Thick Wide Trunk!

Ohhh Shit… Ohhh… Shit… Shit… Shit… Shit!!! 

All it took was just one peek around that thick wide trunk to know that the game was almost up. It would have helped a little if he would have reined in his mojo. But then who can possibly control a brewing sense of happiness that is borderline elation. 

It all started with a late night, a dinner well past the hour and an attempt to sleep in a bed that isn’t home. The next morning was going to be early, fairly early. The clock had been set for the alarm at that ungodly hour that was not more than a couple of hours to go. It was cold as the winter had set in on the Deccan plateau and the warmth of the blanket wasn’t enough to keep him from the fan-accelerated chill. But, he desperately needed that shut eye. 

Alarm bells rang deep in his ears just when he thought he had fallen asleep. Cursing under the lip, he was trying to pry open those heavy eyelids. Yesterday’s events flashed through in a jiffy. It wasn’t the first time a friend had done him over but what hurt most was that it had severed his relationship with someone he really valued. Sure it has left him sore in his heart, but today’s journey could be the ointment to his fresh scars. And that’s when he woke up. 

Zipping through the morning routine, he was out on the motorcycle ready to hit the road with all he had. The plan was simple – hit the road, stay on the road, don’t hit anything and do that all day long! All he had to do was remember that and not get cocky. But. Here we are. One peek around that thick wide tree trunk is all it took to put the whole day’s work into jeopardy. How could he be so careless? 

It wasn’t going to be easy when he had swung his leg over that tall steed in the afternoon and he knew it very well. As the dark black ribbon of tarmac started weaving its way through the lush green sides of the Sahyadris, getting the steed to obey wasn’t going well. Treading cautiously, he knew he had no option but to go through the grind.

So, he went through it, taking one step at a time and making sure wherever he set foot, it held solid. He measured every action, reaction, affect and effect of every parameter. It was the grind that he loved. The romance of that tete-a-tete that filled him with joy, a joy unbridled by the material things of life. As he treaded ahead, one success after another, that little stubbly jig became a full ballet. 

The stakes kept getting higher as the speeds crept up. It was a culmination of that grind which had now made him and the motorcycle one. Things were happening in slow motion. He could see the grade of the asphalt, the undulations on the surface, the banking angle of this corner and the next. He could figure the racing line through those corners on a public road as if he had a helicopter view of the whole road. And that is how he found speed. 

He felt the tingling of the revs on his wrist and the friction of the wheels on his toes. In his thighs he felt the yaw when he opened the throttle while leaned over into that lazy right hander as he neared the red-line in second. The corner will open up, he thought nonchalantly, opening the throttle further open. Shifting into third and getting back on the throttle is when he saw past that thick wide trunk. 

His heart sank. It tightened further. Already in third, he had built the momentum further in anticipation of a straight and there was no turning back now. Going forward was venturing into the unknown. It was that moment where everything just paused for a split second. 

That was the moment that made him. It was that moment he decided to dig deeper and pull out all stops. It was that moment when he leaned over further trusting himself to pull through. It was that moment of clarity where it was only him, the road, the physics and the machine all working together to create that moment of glory when the wrist wrung further as he hit the apex with clinical precision. 

As the motorcycle straightened up he looked straight ahead. The evening rays peeping through the foliage blinded him as they spread over the scratched visor blinding him. But his vision had never been clearer. The four-pot roared through the serene jungle victoriously past that thick wide trunk into a new world!

This beauty is the Norton V4 RR and has nothing to do with the incident above.