The contender

Since when did you start riding a Royal Enfield?’ she asked while stirring her cup of coffee.

‘It’s been a year. You follow motorcycles?’

‘I like only Royal Enfield motorcycles. I like their thumping sound, and the feeling that I get when I sit on the seat.. of something tall like a horse. My father has one’ she added proudly.

We were meeting for the first time, having made acquaintance in a group that were fans of Royal Enfield motorcycles.

‘I am not agreeing to meet you because I am interested in you. I am only interested in seeing your motorcycle’ she replied in her message when I suggested that we meet.

I was in no mood to be interested. A relationship has just soured and I was not keen to ‘find’ someone else so soon. I was just curious about her.

It was a good 4 hours before we realised how much time we spent talking about things that were not about the motorcycle, or its brand.

‘I won't get a bus to go back home now’, she groaned.

‘I could drop you home’, I suggested.

She hesitated. I knew I got her attention.

‘Alright’ she said and paused for a moment. ‘But that doesn’t mean I am interested in you’, she warned me.

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I am offering you a ride back home only because it is late...'

‘8pm isn’t late’, she scoffed. ‘But you will not get a rickshaw to take you back home, because... you know it’s too far for them’, I reminded her.

We stood, waiting for the other to react.

‘Well?’ she asked. ‘Let’s go’, I said.

The ride to her house was mostly quiet, save for the thumping sound from the motorcycle. She sat sidewards and her left hand gripped the backrest: she wanted to make sure she gave me no signals. I turned one of the mirrors to see what she was doing: she had a big grin on her face as she surveyed the road ahead. When she realised that I was looking at her reflection, she looked away.

Soon we stopped at the entrance of a street that lead to her house.

‘Thanks’ she said, and grinned. We bade each other goodbye and I set off towards home. But I could not get her out of my head.

A few weeks later, she called me to ask if I had returning from a road trip the previous evening. ‘I saw all these Royal Enfield motorcycles on the road. They were dressed in riding gear and I was wondering if you were one of them’ she said breathlessly.

‘Could have been my friends’, I murmured. I was amused that she called just to ask about this, but something told me that she wanted to keep in touch despite her best self-preserving intentions.

I began to find excuses to catch up with her. She didn’t seem to mind, but she would also tell me that she was not interested in me. It sounded like she was warning herself more than she was warning me!

As time passed, things began to change between us. A few years later, I decided to take the plunge. I went to a jewellery store, carefully looked at each ring before settling for the one. Armed with a small red box, I returned home. But I had to decide on a place, a date and an excuse before I proposed. It had to be perfect.

Each day I tried to ignore the small box telling myself that I must have a good plan so that she would agree. I played out various scenarios in my head but none of them seemed right. I knew she loved me, but was it good enough for her to agree to spend the rest of her life with me? I was sure it was, but I was also sure that she would ask for time. Rejection appeared inevitable.

Meanwhile, the motorcycle began to give trouble on account of its old age. I began to spend more weekends with the mechanic than with her. On the other hand, she was happy to be with me at the workshop! This girl is weird but she is also a keeper, I told myself.

A few weeks later, after another weekend visit to the workshop, I started the topic.

'You know, I have been thinking. It's time to sell this and buy a new motorcycle. Something faster, something more reliable...'.

‘No! You are not selling the motorcycle. I love it! I love it more than I love you!’, she yelled angrily. She grabbed a nearby chair and sat with her head in her hands.

Something clicked in my head.

‘If you accept this, then I will not sell the motorcycle’, I said to her. As she lifted her head from her hands, she saw that I was holding a ring. She looked at the ring, and then at me. She looked at the ring again, and I saw her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

‘How dare you make me cry and then propose!’ she cried as she pummelled me. I laughed and enveloped her in a tight hug. ‘If you love my motorcycle more than me, then you are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with’.

Azhagiyae! Marry me, marry me, azhagiyae!
Flirt With Me, Get High With Me
Azhagiyae...
Kovam vandhdhaa, koochcham vandhdhaa, don’t worry
Azhagiyae ae azhagiyae

She sank into my arms, and whispered a barely-heard ‘yes’.

Then she pulled away, sniffed and said,'Only if you promise not to sell the motorcycle. You can get any motorcycle that you want, but this motorcycle stays with us whether you like it or not'.

A year later, we were married. What is a few hundred rupees a month to pay for parking space when it offers a lifetime of peace and happiness.