Megha is the best driver I know
Can you point to a moment when you've been absolutely free? Untethered, soaring?
I couldn't until recently.
While sitting behind my friend on a scooter, I remarked that he was going exceptionally slowly. We were driving a long way- from RA Puram to beyond St. Thomas Mount- amidst metro construction and road work. It wasn't the pace I was used to. It also wasn't the kind of ride I enjoyed. Patience is not one of my strong suits.
"There's only a few people in the world who know how to ride a scooter. One of them is Megha," I found myself saying.
My oldest cousin sister and friend Megha hasn't really driven a scooter regularly in 10+ years now. The last time she did was sometime in 2022. Her sister Manu, yelled at her so clearly, something did not particularly go well.
But IIM-A topper, Deputy Vice President, school teacher, *my* teacher, ace table tennis player, marathon runner, quasi-doctor, shopper and career-advisor Megha is mostly exceptional at everything she does.
Although she has her dips with drinking and lying, she is an A+ student. Her high performance and high commitment has helped her earn the tag 'Deivapiraivi' or a 'a divine incarnation' from my loony paati.
I'm sometimes afraid that this moniker is getting to her head but she perhaps deserve adulation for the number of times she picks up the phone and prescribes medication for our ailments and heartache. Even if it is some form of literal worship.
But back in 2000 though, when she came to Bombay briefly, she was less god-like.
Megha, who had just completed her Class 12 board exams, had already secured her admission to the National University of Singapore. This was quite the prestigious achievement. The whole family chose to celebrate.
Her mother, my maami, who was generally strict and reluctant about visits elsewhere, permitted her this once to live the life she really wanted to lead in India's city of dreams. It helped that maami and appa were best friends. Appa, who had foraged a 'cool uncle' friendship with Megha, was always fond of her and requested her presence in Bombay so that she'd get to relax and spend time with Amma, a one-year-old Anuchu and a seven-year-old me. He wanted to take her around the city, show her the sites and mostly treat her like the adult that she was steadily becoming. Appa liked talking to Megha, I think. She was his connect to the pulse of the youth even though she was drowning in her books all day. She was also an exceptionally smart person to speak to. Appa might have liked that, I think.
When Megha came to Bombay, there was actual fanfare. It wasn't common for our relatives from Chennai from Amma's side to visit us in my father's hometown where we were staying. It felt like Megha was Amma's guest. My guest.
My sister who didn't bully me, who danced with me and genuinely enjoyed my company since day 0, was here. We had to make everyday count.
The two weeks that Megha was around was a fete. One meal outside every day, lots of Tamil music at home, shopping, smiles on Amma's face and Appa around more often. We went to Lonavala, got drenched in the rain, ate ice creams while soaking wet. Life was good.
During this period, Megha also got the rare opportunity to take my mother's scooter for a ride. My mother who was frankly possessive of her somewhat new black Honda Activa never allowed anyone else to drive it. It was her vehicle of freedom and she didn't think allowing many others to use the bike was a good idea. She made an exception for Megha though. Megs, to her credit, gave Amma several reassurances about safety especially because her father, Vasu maama, was vehemently opposed to Megha being on a two wheeler, let alone driving it.
She was tasked with picking me up from school, buying the groceries from about 300 metres from home and taking Amma for 'outings' whenever they decided. By then, Megha had learnt the routes and knew where to avoid the potholes. She zooped in and out of the house because she could.
On one such zoopy ride, when Megha drove me back from school, she decided to abandon the usual route and take a chance. She wasn't going to ask strangers for directions or stop to panic. She was young, it was day time and there were some (read 1) people around. Nothing could go wrong, right?
Instead of the stretch that allowed us to go home the quickest through a park and a bakery, Megs drove along the banks of the Airoli creek with the afternoon sun shining fiercely on our banks. The area which barely had habitation back then was considered unsafe but she didn't know.
Megha drove in zigzags around medians, tried doughnuts and alternated between driving slow and fast. I cheered her on from the back, wondering if all adults could be the same. Insane and driving in zigzags.
It was joyous and continues to remain one of my favourite childhood memories. It's one of the few things I actually remember about my life so that is indication enough.
Retrospectively, Megs is perhaps a terrible driver. She did, however, show me that riding a scooty could help me feel free, untethered, like I was soaring.
It's probably the best lesson I've learnt from her.
