European

Opposite Hanumanthan, just as one crosses the Bagmati bridge, one sees a metallic glare of bicycles rows in front of a bike shop on the left. There, few months back, I saw a peculiar sight.

As I was passing by the shop, I noticed a tall, faded European gesturing to buy an Indian Atlas bike. Apparently, he was struck by its unique feature- the hand grips are comfortably turned perpendicular to the handlebar, kind of like in a Harley D.

The European was emulating riding this particular bike, pumping his feet, fists grabbing the imaginary ergonomically bent grips. It struck a vague irony that a foreigner would hunt for a cheapest form of transport. It was also comical to guess whether the shopowner was trying to comprehend the model the guy was referring to or the reason why he would choose Atlas over any of the array of mountain bikes in front of him.

The event was on my mind for about another minute or so. After all, the guy did not really have a memorable face. He seemed one of those greys with whitish/faded outfit, a garden variety. Also, this was not an unusual event in itself. One sees a lot of foreigners in the middle of seemingly weird acts. I have seen a few of them pumping pedals to scale the upslope in Kupondole, presumably on way to work, some even sporting baby carriages made of bamboo or wickerwork.

The thing is this. I have seen the same guy many times after that. And, please take note, every time after the first sighting, I have seen him on his Atlas apparently eventually scored. And trust me, he always looked somewhere near ecstatic- like a kid who got his first bike. The last time I saw him was about a week back, and he was speeding through a fairly trafficked place. Perhaps I get amused because I saw somebody I knew before on the way. But this is much deep.

I have a feeling that I will see him again by this month. I might throw a hello.