A notorious yet pretty famous breed of youngsters of our nation have found a rather dangerous yet exciting style of expressingthemselves, or shall we say seeking attention of the world. Famous fortheir antics on two wheel rides have allowed this special group of people to gain the attention of mostly the youth of nation and ofcourse the Indian Police as well. Kids love them, girls find themhot, the police hates them and the parents have mixed opinion on theseadventure lurking petrol heads. As a matter of fact anyone foundperforming any such activity in a public place is liable to bepunished as stunt riding is considered a crime in our nation. Unlikemost of the foreign nations our country's law doesn't provide alicense to racers and stunt riders as there isn't really a place wherethey can show what skill they possess. Deprived of a race track ora stunting ground these passionate youngsters who find it extremelyhard to keep sitting at one place all the time hit public roads,preferably the ones with no or very less traffic, let the heat ormadness or what I call. The art come out and speak out forthem. When anyone sees a bike moving on one wheel... wow...orshould I say Oh teri ... is what comes out naturally.. But only astuntrider knows how it feels like when you are on top of your machinedoing something that others can't and seeing everyone look at himamazed and maybe applauding sometimes.... but it’s not just aboutcourage or crazyness. It requires some serious talent to accomplishsomething like a wheelie or a stoppie or a Christ or a marigo roundand the list can go on and on. But constant practice and dedication issomething that can help you in learning such skill. This is somethingthat should not always be criticized as it is done by most of themedia, the news channels or the newspapers. Road rash or bikergang or chain snatchers are the terms usually associated with agroup of stunt riders in our nation, while on the other hand most ofthe biker clubs these days promote safe riding, Use of protectiveriding gears and respecting traffic rules. But still this tag of badboys doesn’t seem to loosen its grip from the heads of these hardworking and passionate people or should I say petrol heads . But nomatter what, their passion goes on strengthening every day and everyday a new trick is invented, a new skill is learnt, a new woundoccurs, a new stunter is born!
I stand at my balcony and watch the unfortunate (no not unfortunate) events unfold 2 floors down. Dadi (grandmother) has fallen to the ground and is crying, my mother has a face of steel, its frozen into a blank stare; I know this state, I have seen it before, she is controlling herself showing a brave and proud wife to the world. She is helping dadi. Uncle keeps pointing past the gate and is shouting something at dada (grandfather). Dada has just locked the gate and is walking back to the house. Past the gate I can see a group of people all clad in white, surrounding something lying on the ground covered with a white cloth. My governess Shobhadi stands next to me holding me, afraid that I'll run downstairs into the scene unfolding. She and and the servants have been given strict orders that I can not be allowed downstairs. Dada thinks I do not understand what is happening, he thinks I cannot comprehend what is going on, but I do. The year is 19...
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