Well...one really can't 'muse' in the mornings, what with the husband and kid to be rushed off to school and office ...err...the opposite respectively. Also, one can't think when one is accelerating the scooter, braking at vantage points, holding the standing kid tightly between one's legs, enduring the child's constant 'amma athu enna?', followed by a harried amma's don't stick your hand out, staring at brainless motorists, checking the elusive expletive just in time before it reaches the brat's ear, desperately honking and indicating before reaching the school and depositing the child. After all that, further endurance and heart-break at the little one not even attempting to say 'Ta-Ta'.
The real fun starts when one rides back home. The BP suddenly touches normal, the air seems fresh, motorists less annoying and one actually waits until a horde of buses, vans, cars, scooters, bikes, pedestrians, stray dogs pass by. Suddenly there is so much time!
On an aside...
When I scoured the city in my scooter on work, when I was all young and bursting with excessive enthusiasm - eons ago- I used to look amusedly at mothers who rode their children to school or otherwise. I remember seeing perennial frowns on those faces. I used to brazenly chuckle to myself, thinking aloud, under the protection of my helmet, "Poor women, they probably began riding only after marriage", or "Poor women, what monsters their husbands must be to let their hapless wives endure the city's noisy, polluted and risky roads" AND "Lucky me... I have mastered the art of riding...I would n't have a problem many years down the line"...
Little did I know!
