These instances of yesteryears are mostly recorded in our Petabyte Memories, but they still feel as fresh as if they happened just the other day. Cameras were costly, and there was no other way to record our historical (mis)adventures.
My friend Badri, a resident of Dombivli (near Mumbai) during those years (and now living in Mysuru), would visit Bengaluru over holidays and stay in his grandfather’s house here (close to my house), where his uncles and aunts also lived in a joint family.
For some more background, Badri learned to drive a scooter in Bengaluru, and I was the guinea pig as a pillion rider. The other two of our “Four Musketeers” gang, Kishan and Krishna, would duck out of venturing on the scooter with Badri driving. The scooter his uncle had was a Bajaj Super, and if readers of my age group can relate, it had a very powerful pick-up and would do a wheelie (lift the front of the scooter off the ground) if the clutch was released suddenly and accelerated at the same time. Badri didn’t have the patience to release the clutch gradually and would always do a wheelie, with me on the pillion, embarrassing me and sometimes in front of the girls from my college. Yes, many times, we would get a chance to steal the scooter at college closing time. On one such occasion, we fell off the scooter, unable to control it, and this happened in front of my college-mates.
Back to the story—his eldest uncle was a manager at the State Bank of Mysore (now State Bank of India). He was no different from a few lucky bank managers who had the opportunity and privilege to come home for lunch while working in nearby branches. He would habitually take a power nap after lunch, and this was the time we eagerly waited for.
Once we confirmed he was asleep, Badri would fetch his scooter’s keys. I’m sure many in my age group can relate—those who have experienced the unique sound from releasing the stand of Bajaj scooters. To avoid waking him with this sound, I would hold the stand with both hands and release it slowly before we took the scooter out of the gates and around the corner, then kick-started it.
As soon as we were out of earshot, we started the scooter, and in the next 30-45 minutes, it was a whirlwind tour to the entrance of Bannerghatta National Park and back. The only stop was for a cup of coffee at the legendary Gottigere shack, which we discovered during our cycle trip to Bannerghatta (please see the article on my blog https://mycentortwo.blogspot.com/2025/04/another-anecdote-from-way-back.html for more details).
Those were days of thrill, speed, and exploration. Badri and I took turns driving, and the most foolish thing we did was race at high speeds. Without helmets, without caring who paid for the petrol, we were enjoying the speed and boasting among our friends about these adventures. When Badri was driving at high speeds, he would scream—ಹೇ ರಮೇಶ, ನೋಡೊ, 80 ಕ.ಮೀ. ಟಚ್ ಆಯಿತು (See Ramesh, touched 80KM)—as he watched the speedometer. That was probably the maximum speed the scooter could reach, and given the road conditions then, we pushed it to the limit. It was the peak of our excitement! The good part was that traffic was sparse at those times.
On the way back, we would park the scooter and turn off the engine at the end of the road, then push it back to its spot, silently place it on the stand, and keep the keys in their usual place. Afterwards, we would walk over for another cup of coffee at the nearby SLV Coffee Centre, as if nothing had happened.
Once, while we were pushing the scooter back to his house from the street corner, his uncle was standing at the entrance, dressed and ready to leave for the bank. He asked why we were pushing the scooter and if it was okay. We gave a quick excuse, expecting a scolding, but he just started the scooter and drove off without a word.
This happened almost regularly while Badri was in Bengaluru. Testing the speeds on that scooter was a fun pastime. You might now wonder if Badri’s uncle ever found out about our adventures. I think he might have noticed the decreased fuel level and guessed some mischief, but he never said a word.
Even today, whenever we meet, we laugh heartily, recalling those moments, feeling lucky that nothing serious happened, and realizing how reckless we were.
I wonder if the Gen-X, Millennials, and Gen-Z can imagine or understand how much we enjoyed doing those things!
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