Rider Without A Face

I drive fast, zig-zaging my way through the impossible Bangalore traffic. I see that sucker stuck behind and give myself a cocky grin as I pass him by from the left side. And what's that? A red light in the distance on the impeding traffic junction. Now red lights are something I hate with all my fiery tropical blood. Like death, they are great equalizers. The screwed up communists of the road. No matter how fast you go, you will have to stop by it and wait for the ones you left behind. Seeing the looser I left behind catch up and smirk is the last thing I want. And yet the choices I have are limited to either stop or risk my way through the traffic out of my turn. I will decide when I reach there. If the traffic is light, I will take my chances. Cops? Can be a problem on a bad day but they are generally cool spectators as long as I don't bump somebody. The signal is here and I see no big traffic, so here we go!

Phew, made it and going strong. I know the law abiding guys that I have left behind and the car-waalas who have sweared and blown their horns as I have cut them out with my bike will be fuming somewhere back there, cursing the roads, the system, the traffic sense and of course me. Gives me an almost sadistic pleasure thinking of the poor guys. Ha! Look at me, I don't believe in cribbing. You outrun them, make the way or get left behind. You don't crib. I am where I am because I take risks, even at cost of others, to get ahead. You don't crib, that is for sissies. And this is just one of the roads.

I have defied misfortune and death. And I will continue to do so. At least that is what I hope. Traffic gets worse every day. People die and crib. But I am the untouched rider without a face that bugs many on the road. It is a hard world. Nobody cares. I don't care either. We will meet someday, I hope. Till then I have another red light to jump...