The Best of Human Nature
Rajastan, India
Down the open road – until the bike got other ideas.
Whilst biking in the afternoon through Rajastan, India, the Enfield became parched of fuel. Furnace-like sunshine was beating down. Water was down to a half-litre. Dehydration was imminent. With the knowledge of a 20km (12 miles) journey separating me from the nearest town, I began to panic a little.
After weighing up the alternatives of resting or walking, the latter seemed a better option. At least this way, I might catch a ride. Apart from an antelope, nothing passed by. After roughly 3km (2 miles), I drew near one of the military bases that are commonplace in the area. I felt convinced that it was a chance to refill my water bottle. As I approached the gate, a sentry eyed me suspiciously. An officer who spoke surprisingly good English quickly joined him. His abruptness was both startling and quite intimidating.
Officer: “Do you know where you are?” (he bellows)
Me: “My motorbike has broken down… I was hoping to get some–”
Officer: “You have to leave immediately!” (interrupts loudly)
Me: “But… But…” (meekly)
Officer: “Where is the motorcycle?” (calming a bit now)
Me: “About 3km back down that road, by the sign post.”
Officer: (Mutters something in Hindi to a subordinate. Two of them hastily fetch a jeep.)
Officer: “Go with them” (angry again).
Me: “Err… Err… ok then” (is this a good idea)?
Fort on top of a hill.
To my relief, the bike was still there. Before I have a chance to get out, they have a heated discussion about how best to lift the bike into the jeep. My fortunes were fast reversing. After considerable heaving from all three of us, we balanced it precariously. Part in, part out, it sat on a knife edge over the lip of the back.
As we entered the barracks, I was commanded from the vehicle, and led into a dusty shed at the edge of the parade ground. I was offered some chai (sweet tea) and a Biri (cheap Indian cigarette). We chatted about my journey, but he seemed more intent on telling me how wonderful India was under Colonial rule. As if it were once a wonderful utopia. I didn’t agree, but I took onboard his ideas about Indian society lacking firm law, and responding best to a bribe. In India, little in everyday society is sacred; everything can be bought for “baksheesh” (kickback).
As I listened, I glimpsed through the dusty window, and to my astonishment saw two men cleaning the carburetor, topping up the tyres, filling the tank, and finally cleaning the entire bike. I couldn’t believe my eyes!
Leaving the barracks felt more like leaving a party. Handshakes and smiling faces were abundant. The whole thing proved that human nature could be a wonderful, unexpected thing. You never know where you’ll find the best of it!
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