Cycling, Despite the Theories

Text and photographs by Shafi Rahman

Way back when I was in college, a comrade, with whom I strongly shared the belief that Indian villages will surround the cities and stage a revolution before we graduate with a lower-second-class degree in English Literature, came late to the class with his right arm in bandages. The curious teacher asked him what happened. Sinoj said with a straight face: I was cycling past Puthen Pally and thought about theories on cycling, lost balance and fell off.

We were a select few at St Thomas College, Thrissur, and cycling was no joke for us. In Sen Thomas College (as we called it), the children of affluent rice merchants, jewellers in High Road, wholesalers in Sakthan Thampuran Market and our own college professors came in variety of motor bikes – Yamaha RX 100, Kawasaki Bajaj, mileage-plenty Hero Honda. While bikes stood under covered parking lots, our cycles drenched in Kerala rains and always looked freshly bathed, ready to ride.

My first cycle was a BSA SLR, manufactured by the TI Cycles in India with the licence from Birmingham Small Arms Company, which also manufactured cycles from 1880s as all cycles needed was large quantities of standard parts accurately machined at low prices (Yeah, according to Wikipaeedia). The cycle had a rear-view mirror, a ding-dong bell, a carrier on the back, a light that worked on dynamo and a sponge seat cover that sucked rain water and wetted my pants in abundance.

The cycles were our constant companions while we scurried up and down High Road; while rode past rotten vegetables at Sakthan Thampuran market; while we stopped to chat up with Christian girls with fluorescent prayer beads around their necks. The cycles waited for us outside public library where we read the paper backs and the Guardian, which always arrived a week late. The cycles were with us when we threw stones at helmeted policemen from Armed Reserve Police camps while protesting against rigging of municipal polls in Nicaragua, detention of Nelson Mandela and our own pre-degree board.

 I gave up cycle as I got into newspapering and needed to catch up with fleeting news moments. An editor asked during an internship interview: Do you know what is the most important thing a journalist should possess?

“Compassion, objectivity, may be fairness?

No, he said. “Every journalist should have a driving licence.”

As I travelled to work later to Dubai, I was warned abundantly against perils of the road. “These Arabs don’t die natural death. They live till they die of road accidents,” Mommali Ikka who ran a local restaurant told me.

Later in Delhi, a journalist friend spoiled my plans to buy a cycle. “Beware of Happy Singh.  He is the guy with SUVs and he is out on the road to kill you. Think of him every time you touch your toe on the pedals.”

When I landed up in London, another journalist friend stopped me from buying a cycle with a curt warning: “Journalists are dying of shrapnel wounds in Afghanistan and Syria. Do you want to die of freak cycle accident?”

London is not a great place to cycle around, especially with its freaky weather. Despite the frozen water sitting against their skin and curse of numb toes, London cyclists brave weather and scary traffic. The hep artist crowd in Shoreditch and other commuters racing against spiralling tube prices hit the tarmac daily cycling through riverside capital’s sinews. They fought with truck drivers and raised middle fingers – that universal symbol of anger -- against oncoming traffic.

Despite the weather, there are many happy cyclists in London. They move around with sense of purpose, through the streets with blue-green light reflected on them off tinted office buildings around Liverpool Street, Mansion House and Canary Wharf. They curse pedestrians – the women who dressed out of the Prada catalogues, men in ill-fitted suites, shining here and there -- who ignore cyclists at the traffic lights.

 London’s arty crowd and hipsters -- in skinny jeans, deep V-neck Tees and headphones louder than big bang -- have been the most important members of the city’s cycling crowd. Despite the black cabs splashing puddles, the hipsters move around, carrying a collective unimpressed look and aviator glasses on their faces. Every cyclist maps his own parts in the messy tangle of the city’s streets and pedal across with a sense of ownership.

The modern-day bogeymen in two wheelers were enough inspiration for me to buy a cycle last month. But the last straw came when an old friend and a good brother started posting his cycle-pix and ride reports in the Facebook page of Cochin Bikers Club. Ajith Varma, is one of the finest artists, who helped launch the Middle East’s largest newspaper Khaleej Times and a former colleague.

While his lovely children grew taller and adorable, Ajithettan remained young, fit and always offered a quick smile. He is one of the people whom you could ask “how old are you if you don’t know your age?” and you can easily get the answer: eighteen. He stayed fresh spirited, like one of the meadows where winter never bothered to visit.  In FB he cheered youngsters cycling all over the state and scripted Omerta Codes and offered cycle babbles for Kochi’s cyclists.

In Kochi, these new set of cyclists are blogging and attracting fresh set of pedal happy denizens. But the city’s cycling infrastructure is pathetic and there was never an effort from the City Corporation to build dedicated cycle lines and attract eco-friendly transport system. Let us hope the renewed interest in cycling will change things for better.

"In Copenhagen I cycle with one grandchild at the front of the bike and another at the back, and a five-year-old grandchild on his own bike next to me. That can be done if you have bicycle lanes which are proper lanes which have kerbs and proper junctions. But in London, never," said Jan Gehl, who was in the UK recently to give a talk to Royal institute for British Architects.

Jan Gehl, an architect and planner helped oversee New York's recent move towards widespread bike infrastructure and is part of building cycling architecture in many cities.

Cities, he insists, should be designed so people feel "they are invited to walk as much as possible and to bicycle as much as possible", making cycling both normal and accessible to all ages.

The blogs like Londoncyclists keep a vigil and regularly list the accidents and loss of life of their fraternity. Here’s a taste of entries from the blog.

·        9th cyclist to die: Brian Holt: Hit by a lorry on Mile End Road, part of Cycle Superhighway 2

·        10th cyclist to die: Francis Golding: Hit by coach, junction at Vernon Place and Southampton Row

·        11th cyclist to die: Roger De Klerk: Hit by the 410 bus. Cherry Orchard Road and Addiscombe Road (East Croydon).

·        12th cyclist to die: Venera Minakhmetova: Hit by Heavy Goods Vehicle. Bow Road Roundabout E3 along Cycle Superhighway 2.

·        13th cyclist to die: Unidentified man: Hit by 205 bus. Whitechapel High Street, junction with Commercial Road. Along Cycle Superhighway 2

Whether it is Kochi or faraway London, there is an urgent need for building dedicated cycle lanes and to make them lively, liveable and sustainable cities. Till then one should brave the traffic and keep the gung-ho spirit. And, of course, never think of theories of cycling.