Monday is fabulous.

It was one of the loveliest weekends I have had in my life. And it would take aeons for the hangover to subside. Sometimes you just wish out of ur skin, that time just stalls. It just never is that way isnt it.

Monday morning was glorious. As always. And gloriouness capped with the increasing uncertainties of Hyderabad traffic. Not an accident this time, but a small mishap.
Cliche - NOT my fault.

An honest anecdote:

Around 3 km from office. Peak Monday morning traffic. All is well and no one naughty so far. Bright and sunny, just perfect for that feel-good factor you need when you go to work, especially when you expect an enervating day ahead. I was almost falling for it.
My reverie was knocked off mercilessly by continous screech of tyres.
Around 50 meters ahead, out of nowehere, appears an auto (for statistics, I have started HATING auto rickshaw walas, not to blame the poor vehicle though - for the uninititated, auto-rickshaws, dearly called as autos, are nice, gentle three-wheeled mechanical creatures driven my monsterous aliens in human guise). It was a trolly actually, coming out of a wholesaler, loaded with goods absolutely unnecessary for human existance, like probably whaleshit. The monster inside the auto was taking a reverse, right across the road. And an innocent, albeit richer, IT professional, driving a Suzuki Baleno braked desperately to avoid killing that monster, a false decision. I could see puffs of smoke emanating from the rear wheels. He must have floored the brakes real hard. Anyways, he successfully and unfortunately, avoided colliding with the auto. So how was I affected? C'mon guys. This is a detailed description ( I have nothing else to write about now. End of day. And as expected, Enervated). So read on.

And behind that Baleno, was another monster, riding another gentle mechanical creature. He braked well too, to my surprise actually. I was already imagining a disfigured butt (Baleno's, I meant). Anyways, he surprised me, pleasantly for once.
So where am I yet? Patience comrade, patience...

And so, behind that gentle mechanical creature was yours truly. Riding at an insipid 50 kmph. I was not to be panicky. I have been in such situations one too many times now, and this was not going to get my heart pounding. Rather calmly, I braked lightly (50 kmph does not need stone walls to stop). I avoided the auto by all of 2 inches. I was just flexing my facial muscles for a smile....

THUD.

Three of us were successful. Not the fourth. An Indica, seemed like a call-center cab. He braked too. Either he wasnt as trying as the Baleno, or he was way too fast for holding back. He rammed right into my bike. The culprit monster had disappeared by now. The Baleno was crawling away. The lucky monster was wagging away too. And so I, decided not to make it a big deal and took this in my stride (??!!) and tried moving ahead. My bike would move. Gave it more thrust. It just wouldnt move. I turned back to see that my rear wheel's mud guard and the number plate, all have disappeared into the Indica's bumper. And my rear wheel was an inch above the road. And to top it all, the driver behind the Indica's wheels, was SMILING AT ME.
But to my surprise, even I returned the smile instinctively. There was a man seeing a bit of fun in what was happening, and it rubbed onto me.
A mishap that could have easily turned into a bonebreaking accident. Instead of getting down on the road and tearing each others' shirts off, the protagonists chose not to spoil their days. Afterall, it just 'could-have-been' bone breaking.
Sometimes, this attitude of the people here does seem a bit,annoyingly though, appealing. They seem to be taking everything so easily. So much tension avoided.

So I shook by bike off the car's bumper, waved at the Indica fella, and sped along. Back into my reverie. Monday Morning was fabulous again.

But one thing that is disturbing, is this paradox: Not long ago, I was a fast, almost bordering on 'rash', rider. So dangerous, that a lot of people had second thoughts sitting behind me, though I had a clean track record - zero scratches to self and machine. No close calls or anything, that was dangerous enough for me to sit back and think about how I was riding. And one fine day, under ineluctable circumstances, I had to decide to remain within 60 kmph, no matter what. And I have been true to my word. The needle hasnt moved a degree after the 60 mark eversince. But as luck would have it, all of the close calls and bruises have been after I became the good dude.
So what is the moral of the story??? Not that I am going back to the basics of "Fortune favours the Brave". But even fortune-givers have off days I guess.