मित्रहो ,
अ डॉ हॉ का बा ना सु ना  ह्या माझ्या महाकृतीचा (हा शब्द आकाराच्या अनुषंगाने मी वापरतो ) बाईकनामा ह्या भागाचा प्रियंवदा नार्वेकर - पारकर ह्यांनी इंग्रजीत केलेला अनुवाद मी देत आहे आशा आहे कि तो तुम्हाला  आवडेल . ज्यांनी मूळ कृती वाचलेली नाही त्यांनाही हा भाग वाचायला आवडेल अशी आशा आहे . BAIKENAMA

                                 

BY

SHRIDHAR    TILVE

TRNSLATED

BY

PRIYANVADA NARVEKAR-PARKAR

                            

                              

CHAPTER 1:RIDING BIKE

                                                        

I don’t like four wheeler cars. Especially due to their windows, our vision gets boundaries and we are bound to see through the frame. It is same as watching the television. While seating in the car if we turn our head inside the car, whole car turns into the house. Sometimes I feel car is like an animal. It does have four legs like an animal! Only difference is animal can’t create a frame around it .So when you drive a car you will never get the feel of horse riding. Two wheeler or motor bikes are different. They are frameless, two legged animal like human beings.

I ride on bike as if we ride on woman. Handles are like women’s legs, if you hold them properly then woman will be under your control.

 Radha says my thoughts are chauvinistic. But I never take her opinion seriously. I just want to say to her that when you ride on a bike assume bike as your  man. Which gender you want to search in the bike depends on your gender and which gender are you searching for.

Radha seated on the backside of my motor bike and we were about to fly. But as usual we argued about who will drive the bike.

I said,” I am going to drive”

She said, “I want to drive”

I said, “It’s my bike so it’s my right to drive it.”

She said, “Your father gave you money to purchase this bike so you are saying it’s yours. But who gave the money to your father? He got the money from male-dominated society. I am deprived from the bike because power of productivity and purchase are in your hand i.e. in men’s hand. So I don’t have a motor bike. If you say you are a supporter of feminist movement then you should give me the motor bike to drive so that you can requite the unfairness of males.”

I said,” O, this is emotional blackmailing! This is an intellectual argument. My father never said to your father to not to make money…but your father is happy in clerical job!

He didn’t have the guts to buy the bike so he didn’t get the bike under his ass. And one thing I purchased this bike with my own money.”

She became pale. She got irritated and said,” If you wanted to talk in such abusing language then better you go alone.”

I was not in a mood to give the lecture on language so I shut my mouth.

It was just wasting of time. Then I thought if she doesn’t come let her not to come why I should butter her.

I said,  “This is the last time I am asking to you. Are you coming with me?”

“No.” she said

“Fine…go to hell …..I just asked because you are my girlfriend.”

When I kicked the bike and started moving she called me back…

“What now?’’ I asked.

She seats on the motor bike.

“Where has gone your feminism?” I asked.

“Feminism has gone in the donkey’s ass.” She laughed

Wrathfully she seated on my motor bike and I flew in the air like victorious Napoleon.

In our area roads were very congested. Though our Meera-Bhayandar area is near to Mumbai we are always face a problem of shortage of water. Where government is ignorant about water there who will take care of roads? So motor biking is no more enjoyable .Same roads!! all are turning towards Gorai. But trees are plenty here!! So I was taking left or right turn in between to take a wide feel of jungle. Crowd is rare on this street. But streets were crowded in the downtown. Driving a bike is like grazing your cattle in the field. Here you will be accompanied by calmness. Trees are calm, people are calm as if all are sure that God is about to arrive. People are different than people in Mumbai. They are not in hurry. Most of them are fishermen, bhandaries or aagry. There are lots of Christians also.

In the morning I came out with my bike and called Radha. I said to her that I am going towards Gorai. She said, “I will come”. I wanted to go alone today but she insists that even she wants to come. Actually I wanted to go alone but how to refuse her and the reason which she has told me was very strange. Her father has come with one proposal. Guy was a doctor and running hospital in Uran. And she wanted to see his practice so at last I came to Vivekanand Chowk . I met her and as usual we argued about who will drive the motor bike and we started our trip to Gorai.

“Are you going to see that boy?” I asked

“I don’t want to see that boy but I wanted to see his practice.” , She said.

“That’s all in same….”

“Both the things are different not the same”

“Why would you get marry with him? What is more important FOR YOU ? His personality or his practice?

“Generally doctors have personality”

“It’s not necessary. What will you do if he doesn’t have personality?”

“Let me see him first”

I folded my lips. I don’t want to argue with her. We are going to living in the 21^st century and here RADHA THE GREAT is going for arrange marraige. What a social fuck! I find arrange marriages strange and hopeless. Radha is going to become a part of it. Our social system does not allow love marriages. If one wishes love marriage it wouldn’t be possible for him/her to do so.

Actually Radha was in love with one guy called Vinod. But I don’t know what happened to their relationship. I never asked her about him and she never told me. It was an agreement in our friendship not to discuss about Vinod. Since ten years we are keeping that agreement. We came near police station. As usual two- three trucks came in my way. There is a vegetable market near police station. Roads are always crowded with trucks to transport these vegetables which always causing the problem of traffic jam.  

Today traffic was so heavy that I was constantly changing the gears. Later I stopped behind one huge truck. Vegetables were descended from truck. Damn it! It would become afternoon if we take half an hour here. What kind of fun I am going take in the afternoon at beachside!!! And this foolish Radha! If police would see us together at beach side then definitely he would suspect and would assume that we are having affair. He will think girl on bike is definitely for sex. So he will whistle purposely. Oh God! I don’t have the license. How long am I going to use my father’s credit? He will leave because of my father’s credit.

I lost my patience & frowned at Sardarji.

“Oye, Sardarji, hurry up”

“Take a left turn yaar. It’s a bike it will go easily”

“I wanted to go from the middle”

“Then go to hell”

I got irritated. He is in the middle of the way and showing me teeth!!   

“Radha get down” I said

But she was not ready to listen. I became more louder.

“Let me show him that I am Maharashtrian”

“You are creating a scene” she said like other cultured women.

“Get down”, I said in very firm voice.

She got down and I stood before Sardarji.

“How dare you to say this to me!! You go to hell dam it!! Now I will show you how you will go there!!” I said

Meanwhile cleaner came. May be he realized who I am. He was Bhaiya.

He said to me , “Jane do na sab!!”

“Why should I leave him…Sala, ek to is haathi ko bich me khada kiya hai aur upar se dadagiri ?”

Sardarji became puzzled. Even he lost his patience

“Dadagiri kon kar raha hai tu ki mai. ? You can take a left turn to take out your bike. You are not ready to do this so. And…….”

“Why should I take a left? This road is not only for the trucks. Even motor bike riders have a equal rights to drive their bikes on the road. Why should every time bike do the adjustment? Why should not you move your truck?”

“Does there is any space to move?’

At that vary moment I heard the whistle. Sardarji's  face has suddenly changed.

I asked, “Oye Sardarji, don’t you have the license?”

And suddenly I remembered that even I don’t have the license. My heart has shaken. I rushed to the motor bike. Radha seated. I kicked the motor bike and ran away searching the place to move from the gathered crowd. I flew away before the police pay any attention.

“Sardarji will come in trouble now.” I laughed like anything.

I started to enjoy the feel of the motor bike. Density of the bike’s feel increases when you put challenge before someone. Then bike swings like sword in the war. I was deeply engrossed in spiritual feel of bike and suddenly she whispered,

“Why did you fight?”

“With whom?”

“With that Sardarji”

“Khaj Bhagvayala”

She remained silent. Generally women don’t like such language or she is agreed with my answer so she shut her mouth. I asked,

“What is the name of that boy whose marriage proposal you got ?”

“Ranjeet Kamble.”

“Ok, He belongs to your caste, right?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Then?’

“He is Mahar.”

“Which caste do you belong?”

“By caste I am Mang”

“Does Mahar-Mang marry each other?”

“Umm.. No…They don’t marry each other. But I don’t have any problem.”

 “What about your father?”

“No he doesn’t. In that way he is modern.”

“Ok, that’s good.’’

“Which caste do you belong?”

“I don’t like to tell my caste.”

“Why do not you like to tell?”

“If you tell your caste you will become a supporter of castism.”

“Why did you ask my caste then?”

“I knew it so I asked “

“What!!!”

“Since long time we know each other. It’s not difficult to identify your caste.”

“Who told you about my caste?”

“Your father told me.”

“When did he tell to you?”

  

“I had one friend. I never asked him his caste. But when I told his name to your father he immediately identified his caste. He told me to ask him for your marriage proposal.”

“Ok, how brilliant our fathers are!! If we ignore our castes they will deliberately come on caste.”

“All this happened because you never fall in love. If you would be in love you would not find such questions.”

She remained silent. Then I remembered I have started a wrong subject. Because of caste Vinod and Radha might be split. I didn’t know Vinod’s caste but now it becomes important to me. I thought may be Vinod is very orthodox. He must have been left her when he came to know that Radha is Mang. Damn it,Vinod is really brutish. Caste!! Dam nit!  When will this huge truck move? I speed up my bike.

I remembered that we were having Fiat when I was small. Me, my sister, mother and our father used to take a long drive in our Fiat. We had gone without driver for most of the time.

Our family was Small family, happy Family. We won’t allow any outsider in our car. Color of Fiat would have been changed but number would be the same. When father used to sit for the driving my mother used to look at him very proudly. She would assume him as Amitabh Bacchan or Vinod Khanna. My mother knows how to drive a car but she never drove. I always feel that windows of Fiat are like frame and we were watching the world outside through these frames. My father didn’t have the guts to enter in the jungle of Gorai. He had told us that thieves and dacoits are staying in that jungle. We do believe him as he is our father.

One huge truck came from front and my family thoughts got stuck. Damn it!! These trucks are always dominating on roads.  Sala, someone should break this monopoly. 

 My father had two trucks which he used to give on rent. My father and Radha’s father was working in the same office. In construction line government will ask so many formalities several times they will interrupt your work and before we start any work we would have to ask their permission. My father had taken full advantage of this and then entered in the construction line. Meera Bhayandar area had been under construction at that time. Father had captured the market and settled down in this business. Now we are possessing fiat, truck and bungalow!!  He had snatched away the lands of Aadivasies.

I was totally against it. I argued with my father in the morning about entering in his business.  I firmly said to father that I don’t want to enter in this field. He shivered. He argued, quarreled and then I take out my motor bike and came for long drive. While coming he kept his hand on my helmet so that I couldn’t move out. But I left without helmet.

I said, “Hell on the helmet. I was moving without license now I will move out without helmet.” In between Radha joined me.

 Essel World’s line gets started. Maruti cars are passing in the line.

“Where are they coming from?”, Radha asked.

“They are coming from Essel World.”

“Oh! So many cars are these!!”

“Ya”

“All are seems tired.”

“They are returning after celebrating week end.”

Suddenly cars started to move to the left side. Red light cars were approaching from the front . It was a death procession. I saluted the death procession of that politician.

Whose dead body is this?

Mr.Sharad Pawar.

Whose dead body is this?

Someone’s, anyone’s.

Whose dead body is this?

For a while all cars started to move like dead bodies. All cars are dead. All red light cars have attempt a suicide and all cars are now empty. Their skulls are sullen. tya talu varche loni khanareloni khat aahet.

I joined my hands to salute that dead body and I lost my control. But it was late. Our bike came in front of one Minister’s car. His car has stopped making a cracking sound.  I thought driver is very skillful. He turned his car on the left and immediately stops the car. I and Radha collapsed on the road. Police start to scream. Radha gets up. I got small scratches as speed was slow. Radha saved because of sari but her sari tore at down. My jean was safe. On right side my T-shirt got torn. I get up. Meanwhile Minister got down from the car. I have seen him for several times on T.V. so I recognized him immediately. He didn’t recognize me as he never saw me on T.V. . He seems very irritated.  I had committed myself that I will not use my father’s contacts.

“Sir, you please go. We will see this boy.” said the police Commissioner.

Minister looked at me politically. Even I pass solid look to him.

“Sir, Commissioner will look into this matter. We are already late for the meeting.’’

his secretary told to him.

“What is your name?” Commissioner asked.

“Mr.Anil Shaligram”, I read the name on his uniform.

“I asked your name not mine.” He said.

“I don’t want to tell my name.’ I said.

He gets confused with this answer. Two reporters arrived. Environment suddenly changed. One reporter came with camera. Reporters were belonging to big channel. They have kept a watch on Minister. “Something is wrong”, Minister thought.

“Leave him Commissioner, young blood!! They behave in such way. And you drive your bike properly. Today you are saved,” said the Minister.

“You are responsible for all this mess.” I replied.

“Pardon me”, He

“I had joined my hands to salute you and I lost my control and came under your car.”

Minister pleased with this sentence.

“Listen, his purpose was good. Leave him. Yes, you young lady, what is your name?”

Minister asked.

Radha shuts her mouth. Minister came to know that we are not ready to tell our names. He left.

“But sir”, Commissioner whispered.

“Leave him commissioner. His bike came in between. Common man’s bike, young blood’s bike……Media will hype this news. They will print the news in other way.  We will come in trouble,” said the Minister.

Commissioner got the political explanation of the Minister.

“Leave him”, for the first time Commissioner said humanly.

I started a bike Radha seated and we fly.

First time I drove the bike with my friend Mahesh. But bike had created a great appeal on me when I had seen Mad Max!! Bikes in Mad Max were one of the favorite subjects for us and violence in that film was the subject of criticism. Zooming bikes were really amazing and we had seen this movie for several times just to see those bikes. In those days such bikes were rare in India. Bullet was known as ‘fatfati’ in the rural places and was my favorite bike. But it is very huge. In the village sons of sugarcane factory owner drives it so badly that my father considered it as sign of land lordship. Later my father has transferred to Mumbai and entered in the construction field.

My father refused to give me a bike when I asked it for the first time.

“Why do you want a bike? We do have Fiat and two traxes at home.” Father said.

“What is the use of your cars? Fiat is an old model. Not a single girl will turn to me if I take it. Not a single girl will turn to you unless you have the Suzuki.”

      

 My father has ignored me. Then I earned some money with the help of my friend and took some loan. I bought a bike. Father felt ashamed when he came to know this and paid all the installments. He did this to show that he had given a Suzuki to his son.  

We always argue about Suzuki. He says I gave the money so its mine. I say I bought it so its mines. For the sake of prestige you paid the installments, otherwise I would have paid the installments. Father frowns when he hears this.

“Your money is debt on me. I will return it in the installment.” I said

“Okay, absolutely fine.” Father said.

So I worked as an estate agent and in the first week of first month I gave the first installment to my father.

“That’s enough. My debt is over.” After taking the first installment my father said to me.

“How come it’s over?” I asked.

“At last you entered in my field. That is enough.”

“I became estate agent but I never entered in your field.”

“Estate agents do enter in the construction field so you too will enter soon in this field. We will make a multiple  profit when you will come in this field. Population will be growing in our country and demand for the houses will also be increasing. So future is bright in this field.”

He said and passed a villainous laugh and went in the mother’s room.  At the vary moment I decided not to enter in this corrupt field.

Due to the motor bike I have taken the decision not to enter in his field. My decision was firm.

 Motor bike has come in my hand and I stopped to watch foolish serials on television. Second thing which I noticed is motor bike has more inebriation than the computer. So I called it as a   ‘double baricha ghoda’. I enjoyed bike ride instead of playing cards on the computer.

In the one sense bike has destroyed the frame of television and computer. I stopped to see in the frame and start watching frameless world.  Now trees don’t remain steady. They became speedy and fractional. There is big difference between change in the picture on television and on bike. I noticed this and I rediscovered myself. We become steady while we seats in front of computer and television. You become speedy when you ride on bike. You don’t remain you and I don’t remain I. whole world swings with you.

Bike gave motion to my life. Earlier to me bike was just a medium to impress the girls. But later I came to know that we can impress not only girls but also women. If you do have a bike and your friend doesn’t then take his wife for a ride for three or four times and see she will definitely falls in love with you. When I purchased the bike I came to know that bike is much similar to woman.

I roam with the girls. My mother doesn’t like this. She thinks I take advantage of these girls though I never initiate in misconduct. Girls usually bite my ear when they seat back on my bike. Even I was waiting for this moment and then I start till the end. My first step was to stop to drink thumps up or Pepsi, second step, in the night stop for bear.  Girls become high when they drink bear and feel free for whatever they wish to do in their secret minds. One kiss on cheek, another on lips and then slowly they will come down.

I try to convince my mother that I never touch any girl without her permission but she is never convinced. She thought I would give promises of marriages to them.  In fact I never give false commitments. My views are very clear. If you want a sex I too want it. Then let’s enjoy the sex.  Let’s not involve in each other. I am very outward and straight so many girls dumped me. Many of them are my good friends. I never touched them. Radha is one of such good friends. She knows my philosophy so she never involved in me nor do I.

When she seats on my bike I am sure about no one will bite my ear. So when she is with me I take a halt only when she needed. Even now my bike was in full speed.

“Drive slowly” she said.

I slow down my speed. Two authors came between our ways as if cat would cut your way.  Something was happened to their fiat. Radha knew them. They have program in our city. I never liked such programs. Radha always talks about books. She talked about one book named ’Kosala’ . She told me to read that book. I read it but I didn’t like it. I was shocked to know that Radha liked it. Radha called them as ‘sathotari pidhi’. In these four-five months she was talking about Nativism. Even I read about it but I never convinced with the ideas. The reason why I don’t like such views was one girl. I spoke at least for five minutes about Nativism to one girl but she got boar and said,

“Please start the music of A.R.Rahman and stop your noncense Nativism..” I said goodbye to my Nativism and put A.R.Rahman’s record. She takes off her cloths while listens the songs. She enjoyed my universal body and left.

Radha told me to stop the bike. “He is very famous Marathi writer. In his poems he searches the life through the sex.” She introduced a shorter author.

 He felt awkward with this introduction. One thought flashed in my mind. What does he do? Does he have a sex with many women? Does he allow his wife to do sex with many men? First option may be appropriate if we consider the psyche of Indian men’s. Would marathi writer permit his wife to do sex with many men? How would he search life through sex?

“What happen to your car sir?” Radha asked.   

“I think something is wrong with my car.” Tall poet answered. He was post modernist.

“We don’t find any garage nearby.” He continued.

Car repairing was one of my favorite jobs so I came near the car and asked,

“Whose car is this?”

“Mine” postmodernist said.

“Which year have you purchased it?” I

“1970” Postmodernist

I checked the car. It was very simple problem. One wire of engine was broken and I fixed it. I took the car in reverse gear. It started.

“Thank you very much.” Postmodernist said.

“It’s okay.”  I said and came near to the bike.

Radha doesn’t want to move.

“Radha madam please leave now your would be husband may be waiting for you at Uran.” She became panic with this statement. She said goodbye to them and seated on my bike. I saluted to postmodernist Marathi poet who doesn’t know how to repair a car.     

 I kicked the bike. After some time I realized that we are not communicating much. I asked to Radha,

“Are you angry on me?”

“Who am I to get angry?”

I stopped the bike and asked,

“What do you said?”

“This is your bike. You are driving it who am I to stop you?”

“Did you want to talk to those authors?”

She said nothing. I understood that she wanted to talk to them. I drove the bike in my thoughts.  I started to reverse the bike. Radha frowned, “What are you doing?”

“I want to fulfill your incomplete wish. I will catch them within five minutes. Both are old fellows. They will drive slowly we will catch them in five to six minutes.”

“No, I don’t want to go back. You said so that’s enough.”

“But, then…..”

“Why do you compel all the time? I don’t want to meet them.”

“Why do you look so angry?”

“It’s because the look which you had given to them.”

“What was there in my look?”

“Your behavior was so insulting which I didn’t like.”

“But listen….”

“Leave this subject.”

She ended the subject in her way and I started to burst,

“Listen madam, I hate these artists. They always trouble you. When Industrial revolution took place they started anti-industrial revolution. They went back to the nature in the villages. They don’t have the guts to visit the industry and understand the technology. But they will search the beauty in the dance of Aadivasies.(rural tribes) One of my friends is  in the field of computer painting but still he does complains about computers. Now technology has entered in all the fields of arts. You are taking the advantage of it so why should we blame the technology? “

“What is the relation of your nonsense talk and your look?”  Radha asked.

“I read the novel ‘hai rao te rao’ of this postmodernist writer. What he wrote was already written by various western writers. Western writers speak about present world but your postmodernist writer’s world is like a balloon. You can’t call it as post-modernization. He has picked the technique of western world and bought it here. Even Tata and Birla do the same thing. They bring the technique of westerners and establish their business. This collaboration has worked out in our brainless industries. It will work out by the name of globalization but what about originality?”        

“What is the relationship between Art and Industrial events?” Radha

“We can not separate arts from industrialization. If industry is not original then how come arts would bear originality? Truly speaking all the artists especially Indian artists scared of technology.” I

“Not only artist but all Indians are scared of technology. I do scare of factories. I can’t stand there for few minutes.” Radha

“We put industrialization in a backward category. Knowledge comes under Brahmin category, weapons under Kshatriya, business under Vaishya and Industries comes under Shudra category. All the carpenters, blacksmiths and cobblers who belongs to the industry come under backward or shudra category. India has thousands of year’s legacies about caste system. How could we throw it suddenly?” I

I changed the gear of my bike. I always change the gear when I finish my speech. Radha knows this habit.