I've always had a strange and morbid fascination for the dark, dreadful and death. Even as a kid I'd stop to investigate every carcass of animal, bird, bug, or even human with keen investigative interest in how and why.
It was natural that such curiosity and an active imagination lead me to become an investigative reporter covering the underbelly of life here in Bangalore, always on lookout for stories that were unusual, rare & often bizarre. I'd scan at breakfast the obituary section, news clippings of accidents, murder and death. I had good connections also with the homicide dept of the police and at the govt coroner's office at the local hospitals, to readily get a whiff of a really good, evil story. Most people were just amused that a young female like me was pursuing the trails of blood and gore... But what to do - to each one their own.
The first twin deaths in a motorcycle accident which caught my eye was readily dismissed. With the insane traffic, speedings and stress of Bangalore life, this seemed perfectly normal. It's only when a second similar incident was reported the same week that my interest was piqued. With my coffee in hand I immediately headed to my computer and started digging. My hunch was right - there had been more than a dozen such cases, all in the Frazer Town vicinity, always with two young riders on a motorcycle in a collision with a big vehicle - a bus or a truck that had lead to the death of both riders and in couple of cases, one rider survived a vegetative life, and would be better off dead!
How thrilling! There was surely a story here. Thus started my days and weeks haunting the sites of the accident, talking to witnesses, people who might have seen, heard or suspected something, but didn't care sufficiently to come forward to the police or reporters on site to involve themselves. Who has time these days for such things? Best to ignore and move away.
However, it helped being a young woman of reasonable good looks, some charm and patient persuasion - slowly people started opening up with suspicious details that they'd previously ignored, and possibilities started to emerge into a story. All accidents happened on broad day light and involved youngsters that were driving rashly - so there was generally no need to look too deeply for any devious evil at work here. However, a couple of people mentioned that "boys will boys" and were chasing a young woman also on a bike. I decided to follow up by chatting with the drivers of larger vehicle involved in the last few accidents. Sure enough, all of them recalled clearly that the boys suddenly served into their path in a high speed chase behind a woman in a black leather jacket on some fancy motorcycle.
Thus began my search for this mystery woman from around Frazer Town. I started with large supermarkets in the area, talking to the staff and managers, if they recalled having such a customer. I also made sure that I left my contact at each of the places, just in case they remembered something, or if she actually turned up.
It was not entirely surprising then that I received a phone call one evening from an unknown number- the woman herself that I'd spent last many weeks chasing. Let's call her Monica. She sounded warm, open and friendly and wondered why I was so keen on seeking her out. I explained that this would be best discussed face to face, to which she surprisingly invited me to meet her at her home next day. I couldn't believe my luck and hardly slept that night at all in great excitement.
The person who greeted me at the door was an youngish, slender, lithe woman in her fifties with springy, short, curly grey hair, clear skin and wide open large eyes - that uncannily seemed to see through you. I could easily believe that in a leather jacket and a helmet she'd easily pass off as a young woman. I decided then and there to be completely honest with her.
As we sat in her home, sipping tea, I laid all my cards open and shared the story that lead me to her. Unsurprisingly, she was equally forthright and readily agreed that she was the person who was being chased in all those accidents.
It was now her turn. First, that she used to race motorcycles in UK, where she'd been born and brought up. She'd enjoyed reasonable success and even made quite a name for herself by her mid twenties. Her life turned when she met and fell in love, at a concert with a sitar player from India, while visiting Argentina for some races. One thing led to another and she married and moved back to India where she had a daughter called Maya.
Tragedy struck when Maya was barely 18 and was killed in a traffic accident returning from her coaching classes just prior to her 12th final exams. She was on a two wheeler and trying to apparently escape eve teasing and harrasment by two guys chasing her on a motorcycle, when she lost control and was run over by a public bus. This had happened several years back.
With a straight face and candid eyes, looking straight at me, she then said that she'd been able to only start recovering from this tragedy over the last few years when she came up with a plan to teach a lesson to young men who harassed women in this way. She again took to riding her old motorcycle - cruising the streets in her black leather jacket and her helmet with visors. Her husband was glad that she was finally riding her bike, and also finally, swiftly healing from their terrible tragedy, and was clueless how exactly she was achieving this.
That was about 15 years back. Monica and I continue to be dear friends and still meet regularly - despite our age difference. I have changed, and turned my attention to life and the living, and now cover topics of ecological and cultural interests.
Monica now says that she's too old to continue this sport and too tired to look for revenge. She's taken up yoga and meditation and is learning to find peace within herself. Sometimes I wonder if she's found her Maya in me and therefore no longer needs her bike or her black leather jacket.
