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!
Ira comes for tea and slowly reveals a life shaped by emotional surveillance. Loved, watched, and quietly evaluated by her parents, she lives under constant explanation. Through food, posture, and confession, she names the exhaustion of being known too well and finds nourishment not just in eating, but in finally being heard. Ira arrived five minutes early and apologized for it. The way people do when they are used to taking responsibility for time itself. She said it lightly, as if time itself had offended her. She wore a white A-line shirtdress, clean and careful, the kind that looks chosen for comfort but ends up signaling restraint. When she sat down, she folded herself into the chair unconsciously. One leg rested on the floor, the other tucked underneath her, knees visible. It was not a pose meant to be seen. It slipped out before her body remembered how to protect itself. I noticed the brief softness of it, the quiet vulnerability, before she settled and forgot. I was still...
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