Tyre Trouble

It all started when I convinced my dad to buy me a bicycle, that shiny blue one. The usage was restricted at first although I slowly began to use it and ventured beyond my street to those around the block. It happened only after the first few rides- the tyre went flat. Somehow, the blame was on me for what had happened and only after much beseeching did I finally manage to get it fixed the first time. I was more careful how I rode thereafter; I avoided potholed roads and only took the less potholed ones, filled air to the tyres more frequently, kept the cycle in shade. As time passed, I slowly braved to bicycle to school. But, one day as I cycled up that road, I had to stop half way puffing and panting- punctured tyre again. This time I decided to let it be for a while and rested the bike against the coconut tree in my home. After several fixes, re-fixes, replacing tubes and what not, I gave up. I just thought it was a problem with the bicycle itself and blamed it for all the trouble; after all it was ominously named as ‘Devil’ (by the company, not me). 

Many repairs were funded by my parents out of pity, but the tyres just would not stop flattening out, and it became more and more difficult to ask for help when repairs became more and more frequent. By the end of high school I had given up cycling altogether as it was more pushing than peddling, and began walking to school and jogging back home. My bicycle had found a more permanent place inside my room. A few years into college, I began experimenting with my mom’s scooter. I had just got my learner’s license and mom agreed to let me use the vehicle. Since the scoter was not named Devil, I assumed the tyre trouble would be non- existent or at least lesser. I could not have assumed worse. To save costs, I ended up removing tyres myself, lugging it to the shop and then refitting it after repairs. I greased my hands a lot with that scooter.

Last year, I took an auto in Mumbai. The driver, an elderly kaka, navigated very efficiently through the morning traffic in the city, giving me confidence that I’d reach on time, in spite of having started late. It was not until a fellow auto driver yelled and notified kaka of the flat rear left tyre, did I realise what could possibly be the hard truth- It was I who caused the tyre trouble. Poor kaka. The jinx just would not wear off. My dad’s scooter, usually hassle free, was just what I needed one day, but I could only go as far as the tyre shop down the Bull Temple road. Maybe I had to consider modes of transport that have no tyres, like boats or bullock carts. The work doesn’t allow me to take the aircraft much, thank God for that.

Although it is still uncertain whether it is me who causes tyres to go flat on vehicles I sit in, there may be other, more probable causes. Bad roads, for instance. The mending of roads may have been slowed down by our corporations so that the innumerable puncture repair shops don’t run out of business. A tyre puncture for you means money for someone else. The impact on the tyres and the tyre’s wear and tear, both due to poor roads, are mainly what cause flat tyres. So, it may not be me after all. The next time you see me lugging myself on the streets, you may stop and ask for a lift.

(There is no moral to this story.)

Evening at Anna Square

T

his happened 2 months ago and I was meaning to write about it since, but procrastination is a habit. It was a lazy Sunday and I had little to do all day but laundry and taking out the trash. To top it, I was nursing a sore throat since 2 days and the medicine had made me groggy and had left me starved. As evening neared I decided to get something to eat, but just like that ended up in Anna Square, a place far from where I live. I got off at the Chepauk Station when my eyes caught the sea while I was on the train. I knew from a previous trip that the rear gate of the station would lead me to the cricket stadium and I had to walk a bit from there to get to anywhere, so I left from the front gate and walked past a line of Government Offices, which I later learned were the offices of the PWD. When I exited the archway, I once entered the famous Kamarajar Promenade, the road that runs parallel to the Marina. 

I realised that I was getting hungrier and was in lookout for a hotel as I continued to follow a mob of people and moved where they were heading. In a distance I happened to notice a white marble structure of what I know too well to be the symbol of the ruling party of Tamil Nadu State- the AIADMK’s ‘two leaves’. On nearing it I got a full view of the ‘two leaves’ and the horse Pegasus. I began to remember that a colleague of mine had once told me that the resting places of AIADMK’s founder Dr. M.G. Ramachandran and former chief minister of Tamil Nadu C.N. Annadurai were around this area. Located on the sea front of the Marina, the breeze hit my face as I entered the monument. Politics aside, the grandeur of the place took me by awe. I first entered the MGR Memorial and moved towards the tomb of MGR. The crowd was enormous that day. I moved around the place appreciating the architecture of the facade and could not help but glance the sea every now and then. Next, I went to the museum by the side of the façade where artefacts and pictures of MGR are on display, with a queue of people viewing them with interest and what I realised, an unusual reverence. I too moved with the queue observing quietly. Only later was I told by a friend that the birth anniversary of Dr. MGR was the day before and that was the actual reason for the large crowd. A pathway connects the MGR Memorial to the Anna Square, the tomb of C.N Annadurai. There is much similarity between the structures and a similar museum is also there by its side. Once again I moved quietly in the line at the museum, wishing that I had brought a Tamil friend along to translate what was written. 

What amazes me is how the two historic figures draw people even today. A closer observation of the pictures on display needs no translation, these men worked for the upliftment of their people, the hardships they endure and lastly their selflessness and we can draw strong parallelism of their live’s work with so many others in India. I think history demands that we learn a bit more about such leaders. These regional leaders have clearly transcended the boundaries of their state, so much that even a Kannadiga (that’s me), was appreciative of the place and what it had to tell. A stone inscription with ‘Duty, Dignity, Discipline’ etched on it, with Annadurai’s signature below, particularly caught my attention and it tells how and for what the man lived and worked. People of all kinds were there that day and I do not know how many really understood what was there in those museums, but anyway they had come and that says a lot. 

Next time I want to take a Tamil friend with me and I hope he/ she can bear with me and explain what is written in Tamil. I am just a little curious whether my respect can be justified or not. I later walked for a while on the Kamarajar Promenade, passing by the Presidency College which faces the sea. As it was getting dark and since the weekend crowd was enormous and also since I lacked company I decided not to go to the beach. I boarded the train again and grabbed some food at last. I think it was the delirium from all the medicine I was taking that made me go all the way till the beach that day. It was highly unusual, but worth it.