Cycling in India: Queries, conversations and characters

I am sure this has been done before, on bikeszone, maybe? If you are a recreational cyclist in India, you’ll relate to the following things I encounter on my rides very often.

Ya ooru? heard all over Karnataka, means “Which town?” To this you must state your ooru – of origin as well as destination.

Or the Hyderabadi equivalent.Kahaan tak jaare? Declare your destination.Kahaan se aare?Declare.

*Amazed at your responses, mumbles the distance in km. Now give it a moment* Vaapas bhi jaate??!?!Hau.

*Give it another moment while they multiply distance by 2* Dropjaw.

Daily karte? Or Sunday-Sunday? Because I’ve never seen you earlier.

This brings us to the Why? In Andhra you’re asked Waaking aa? Waaking is a Telugu word that loosely translates to “walking” which is a first world activity that is equal parts pastime and necessity, generally accompanied by music, that we have brought upon ourselves for so shamelessly reveling in our opulence and excesses and lipids.

You are any or all of bhaiyya, brother, Sir, anna, boss, buddy, dost and bhai.

The compliments.Cuts mast hai. Cuts is the desi word for muscle tone. Here they refer to coff muscles.Or the versatile Thumbs-up. It could mean good luck, goodbye, good job and sometimes God save you.Or the “V”ictory.Or simply “Great”.

The bike. And what it costs. If you have never faced the heat of this question, I’m afraid you don’t ride your bike enough. In a country where saving, discounts, bargains and generally getting value for one’s money are top priority, this is the most FAQ. Of course, we all have our answers rehearsed by now. Tread carefully. An honest answer means you have to take the responsibility of explaining why you paid that money. Do you have the patience and the breath for that conversation? If you don’t, lie. But make it believable. It’s a credibility issue if you can’t back your answer with reasons or a poker face and could lead to taking of offense.

The tire grope. Tubeless aa? Convinced that it doesn’t need air (that makes it… solid rubber?) or sans a tube.

Gare cycle aa? Gare = Gear. I always feel the need to explain to people that having multiple gears on your wheel does not make it a motorized moped. The expectation is that when you change gear, you will speed up. Many times I have been asked to demonstrate this. Many times I shake my head.

The glee on their face when they lift your lightweight bike. What follows in the split second after is a need to share and multiply this glee with buddies. This is shortly followed by bike being lifted by all men present within earshot.

All men. Why is it always men? They are the primary road users on our highways and they feel responsible to welcome a *bro* and chat with him on their turf. Men like machines.The women never look, the girls never look. There are large groups in bus stands, autos and not one look from anybody. Why are womenfolk not impressed? Not the least bit curious either.

Kitta speed jaata? Whatever your reply, silence included, a validatory glance goes to the speedometer. Theirs. Because that’s the one they trust.

Race hai kya? If you’re the second cyclist they see in a span of minutes.

Anna okka saari! Means “one chance”. Means the boy wants to ride your bike.

A busful of children. Speed thrills children and they love a race. They want to race you. But they will cheer for you. Because you are the underdog. And they are the spectators.

Spit and/or hit and/or catcall. Chichorepan-aa typical of old-city Chichore.

Truckers. They do not talk. They use sign language. They always smile. Drafting them distracts them to no end. In their minds, it’s one of two things –HOW is the fellow so bloody quick? OrWHY is he holding on to my truck?The first reaction is to slow down. The next is to speed up. They want to see what it takes to lose you.

The Been There Done That. Man claims to have cycled inter-city several years ago on a primitive machine. Man claims to have ripped in the past – tarmac and muscles alike. Man claims to have still got it.

The man that demands answers. And you owe him answers because you have entered his territory. Because he squats there all day long.

The helmet, the glasses, the fat, the skin-hugging Lyrca does not help your cause, and the plodding. Face it – you’re an amusement from the city. The ones that have survived will agree… Try to smile and be polite – even when you are suffering. Water bottles are thought to be fuel tanks, bike racks are thought to be cell phone jammers. But at least the know-it-all wants to know more. Respect them, if not their intelligence. You’re hard to believe but they’ll give you the benefit of doubt. Return the favour. You may be educating somebody. Photographs? Let them. You could be making their day. Wave to a kid. He will talk about you when he gets to school. Race the occasional motorbike.

The one quality that is respected universally is speed. A lot of ridicule is saved if you are fast enough. Get faster and let speed speak for you. If you don’t have the patience, you could claim to not knowing the language. In which case you will have signed up for a longer game of monosyllables. Don’t lose your temper and potentially ruin your ride. When they get relentless and are crossing the not-so-fine line, and you do start to feel offended, what to say? Two words – Police Training.

This is by no means an exhaustive list. All of this is from the male cyclist’s point-of-view. I cannot begin to imagine life in the shoes of a woman cyclist in India. I would love to see your comments and hear your stories.