There’s this friend of mine, Ganesh (name changed for anonymity’s sake). He’s a school-college-buddy and lives near my place. We’ve known each other for over over sixteen years now. He’s a guy I adore and admire a lot, mainly for some of his principles which he holds strong. Even though fate’s played some nasty games with him, he’s come out of all adversities bearing a characterestic smile on his face (and a tika on his forehead – our friend’s a devout ‘Shiv-bhakt’).

Like me, Ganesh always depended on KSRTC for his transport needs. That is, until he secured a well-paying job. He decided to put an end to the qualms of daily-commute by buying himself a good motorcycle. And he had no second thoughts about the model – he went for one among the best bikes in the market – The Yamaha R15 Limited Edition. Now, there are only a thousand of such bikes in the market which upped the oomph factor of the bike.

The sudden step-up from mundane commuting to stylish biking was a shot in the arm for Ganesh. He would flash his new toy, zipping through the crowded streets, showing off his beauty. He was too humble to flaunt his bike. Yet, his babe was the object of our collective envy. Ganesh handled his ‘babe’  with utmost care. He would wash and clean it every day, following every rule in the owners manual down to the last dot. In fact, he was obsessed about the R15, albeit in a healthy way.

One fine morning, Ganesh was all set to leave for office. He had an early appointment that morning, hence he’d woken up early to give his bike its daily wash. Making sure that every part of the macho bike gleamed like a new pin, Ganesh mounted his stallion. It was time to hit the road. Turning on the ignition, he pressed the start button. The familiar ignition rattle was music to his ears.

The bike did not start.

His faithful warrior always responded to the first attempt. Ganesh tried again. The ignition-noise emanated again and died down. He tried again. And again. And again.

The bike didn’t respond.

One of the few cons of the R15 is that it lacks kick start. Ganesh remembered his friend recommending him Pulsar 220 because of the same reason. He’d then decided to go against his friend’s advice. Ganesh wasn’t worried. It must be a temporary problem, he decided. He thought he’d wait for a while and try again.

He waited, and tried another hand, to no avail. No matter however hard he tried, the bike failed to respond.

Beads of sweat started pouring down from Ganesh’s forehead. He was running late for his appointment. After a few more tries, Ganesh threw up his hands in despair. He kept his bike back into the shed and took a bus to office. He was fifteen minutes late for his meeting, and his boss was certainly not impressed. After an abnormally-long day, Ganesh reached home, tired and panting. Before he retired to his bedroom, he pulled the bike out of his shed and tried another attempt, in vain. Dejected, Ganesh decided to call it a day. Bikes always have starting problems, he reassured himself. It’d be alright by tomorrow.

For the next two days, Ganesh switched back to KSRTC for his daily commute. Day-in and day-out, he would try starting his bike, only to stand dejected and depressed. How could his brand new bike fall ill despite his careful attention? Machines have the same indiscretions as do humans, he realized.

The very next day, he decided enough was enough. Ganesh called the nearest Yamaha service center. The mechanic said he’d drop by that evening. Ganesh was relieved. His baby’d be back in action within no time, he told himself.

The mechanic promptly arrived, that evening (on a Yamaha RXG, nothing less). Brash and young,  he was a Rajnikanth-worshiping chap, oozing ‘style’ in every movement. Humming a Rajni song, he gingerly unveiled an array of spanners and started work on the bike. He examined every part possible, trying to start the bike every two minutes. The ignition would sputter, and then stop. For a brief instant, the bike made a slight ‘vroom’ sound, much to Ganesh’s excitement. But then it died down, as soon as it started.

Fifteen minutes later, the mechanic stood up and took a stretch. He took a casual glance at the bike’s right side. Suddenly, he fixed his glance at one point. He beckoned Ganesh towards him. His right index finger pointed towards the side of the bike. Ganesh saw it for himself. No sooner did he saw what the mechanic pointed, a smile, or rather, a sheepish grin developed on his face.

The mechanic had pointed his finger at the petrol knob of the bike stood pointed towards the ‘OFF’ position. Ganesh had switched off his bike’s petrol knob in all his punctiliousness to keep his bike ‘perfect’. How in the world would his bike start, when its petrol was turned off?

Ganesh looked at the mechanic, who was now grinning back at him.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the only one. This is MY third time,” he smiled.

P.S.

This post is written as part of the Close Up “Fire Freeze” Contest. Check out their Facebook page, where you can post your own stories. Pour your experiences here as comments. Set the ball rolling.

This happened way back. Rewind to the year 2000, when I was just an itsy-bitsy Seventh grader at Loyola School, Trivandrum. *Ah, those were the days*.  It happened on the eve of a weekly test – unlike periodic mid-term exams where all the exams happened together in a very short time span, our school had a system where there’d be an exam every Monday and Friday. If you ask me, that was a foolproof system which would inculcate the benefits of perseverance and systematic behaviour amongst students. The very few strains of systematic behaviour within me could be attributed to those forlorn weekly tests. Before I get swayed by pangs of nostalgia, lemme narrate my story!

It was a history exam that Friday. I’d learnt most of the portions and I just had to revise/re-read a few chapters, so that I could write better essays. Since I was abreast with most of the portions, I decided to lay idly on my bed, even after waking up at 6 am in the morning. Dreamer that I am, I was in a state of blissful idyll,  probably dreaming about completing level 5 of Roadrash, after buying the venerable Diablo superbike!! Well, as I was immersed in a wide plethora of dreams, I felt something fall into my right earlobe. I didn’t give a second thought to it, and sleepily poked my right ear with my hand, trying to scratch off the recesses of the ear. Thanks to my sleepy countenance, I actually pushed the object deeper into my ear. Within a few moments I opened my eyes wide and shouted in deep pain. My right ear was buzzing like crazy.

The object that had fallen onto my ear was actually a tiny bee and I’d pushed it deep into my ear!

CC Credits: _Pauls_

At the outset, it might seem hard to believe, but those of who have seen me in real life would know better- my ears are enormous. To this date, people tease me, calling me elephant-eared – some say that intelligence is directly proportional to the size of your ear, citing ace chess player Vishwanathan Anand as a case in point. Not in my case, anyway, I’m the guy who actually pushed a living breathing bee onto my right ear!! Mom and Dad rushed into the bedroom listening to my wails of agony!! I kept shouting on the top of my voice:

“എന്റെ ചെവിയില് വണ്ട് കേറിയേ!!” (A bee got into my ear!! Help mee!!!)

First, my parents thought that I might actually be scared from a nightmare and tried to console me, saying there’s nothing to worry. But seeing my repeated wails of misery as I jumped around the whole house, clutching my right ear-lobe in ear-splitting (<–pun) pain, they knew better. Dad brought a pitcher of water and  poured into into my ear. The bee, which was frightened by the reddish-black hole it had fallen into, was maniacally biting and hitting the walls of my tympanum, trying to rescue itself – a few drops of water scared it even more and it struggled, flailing its arms and legs even more vigorously! Dad peeped into my ear, and he could actually listen to the buzzing sound of the bee!!

In a couple of minutes’ time, parents got ready and we rushed to the medical college hospital in our car. All the while, I was madly crying out in pain – dad got incensed, midway, thinking that I was over-reacting to the situation. By God, I wasn’t. His abuses only doubled my trauma!! Finally, I was rushed into the casuality of the E&T department, and a slew of doctors surrounded me from all sides. By now, I was badly trying to control myself – elaborating the situation amid sobs, to doctors, stifling my pain. I clearly remember this lady surgeon there – her face was a mess, literally (Dad still makes fun of her!! ). Well, she consoled me and I was ushered into a push-back seat, lying sideways – right ear facing upwards. The doctors started off in no time.

Interestingly, I was surrounded by lady doctors only! Apart from the chief surgeon lady, all others were very very good looking. There was this lady in a red salwar – her face is still vividly etched in my mind. She held my hands together and consoled me in a very sisterly way. I liked that! Meanwhile, the chief surgeon inserted a screw-driver-ish contraption into my ear. A bang of pain. EEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!! I cried out at the top of my voice – which was pretty much shrill back then, I might’ve rocked the entire medical college junction with that… lol! The red salwar doc placed her hands over my mouth and caressed my face while picking up a few other instruments. My mind was in chaos – and I heard the word ‘surgery’ being mentioned somewhere. I was scared shitless and  my parents’ reassuring faces was my only saving grace. I would miss my history exam, I lamented. I’d prepared so well…

Meanwhile, the doctor removed that contraption and poured some fluid onto my ear. For a few moments, I was in utter bliss – the pain subsided and I guess the insect was killed instantly! Soon after which, the doc. inserted another contraption which, after a few gasps of pain from my part,  came out with a dead bee stuck at its incisor-like end. Finally!

It took an hour more to clean my ear – the poor bee had lost a couple of its appendages inside my ear which remained pierced in my ear-walls. All the people assembled there were dumbstruck at how a bee entered my ear and were mentioning how lucky I was! They were almost sure that I’d need a surgery and that I’d actually lost hearing ability to my right ear – the insect had gone deep inside, millimetres away from my tympanum!! Thankfully, I came out unscathed.

I was discharged from the hospital at 8:45 AM, with a long prescription of medicines which I had to ingest for a month or so, in order to prevent any further infection. I had a lot of minor wounds in my right ear and they needed some strong medicines for quick healing. Anyways, I reached home, dressed in a jiffy and made it to school in time for the history exam at 9:30. The exam went well and I secured a neat 82! Dad and mom were happy!

Ever since, I make it a point to sleep with ears covered – even today!

P.S.

I was reminded of this incident when i saw the Mohanlal movie ഭ്രമരം | ‘Bhramaram’ which has the star scratching his right ear, falsely assuming that a (poorly computer animated) bee has gone into his ear!