Selective Amnesia

CBZ Chronicles, Redux

It’s a Sunday. You wake up early, and want to do something outside of routine. A movie is boring, and friends are asleep, and would be so till 11, which is 7 hours away. You need fun. You need excitement. What do you do?

Well, you take out your trusted steed, say, a CBZ, and fill it up with fuel. You then proceed in a sou, sou-easterly way till you hit that magnificently straight, improbably smooth stretch of road called the ECR. You keep at the throttle, till the speedometer needle touches 80, and then you let go, and cruise this buttery stretch of road, straight as an arrow, till you reach a place called Pondicherry. Now, you circle this small tissue paper of a city till you can give the local postman directions to a house, and have snapped a couple of pictures to boot.
You look at a watch, and it says 9. All of 9 ‘o clock. Getting back home might at best take an hour, so you still have 2 hours to go before your friends think of you and save you from boredom. What do you do next?

You click the link that says “Continue reading”...

Now what do you do?

Well, you take a sharp right at Pondicherry, and set out for a place called Mailam, near which is a place called Thiruvakkarai, and its treasure trove of petrified trees.
At Mailam, you spend a few minutes capturing local flora, fauna and hominids and then hit the road again. This time, after a journey of 15 kilometres, you hit National Highway number 45 emerging out of Tindivanam. You have two options in front, or rather, to the side of you. You take a sharp left here, and proceed on NH 45 to Vilupuram and then on to Trichy and places south or you describe a 90 degree arc to the right and proceed North towards Tindivnam, Chengalpet and Chennai.

You decide that right is right, and get to Tindivanam. There, sudden inspiration strikes you. At Tindivanam, you (sorry for the repetition here) take a sharp left and go down the flyover towards a place called Kanceepuram. Before you do that, there’s this little issue of a growling stomach and a missed breakfast. You attend to these minor matters before you set out again.

You find yourself on what the state Highways Department describes as Metalled Roads. For the most part, it is beguilingly smooth. Your trusted bike is cruising at a safe 70. You struggle to find your voice over the rush of wind and the drone of the engine.

(to be continued…)