I never had a passion for a bike unlike my contemporary friends. I didn’t even have a dream of having one when it used to be a symbol of boyhood and youth. While my teenaged friends used to produce that raucous noise, with their girlfriends in the back seat, I used to have a logic: tractor is better than bike, if you compare the utility. I tell you I’m a trek loving person. That penchant for a ‘philosophy’ of believing in my own feet never gave motorbikes the importance it probably deserved.
The story changed after I started working in a field-based government office in an Executive position. Accountable towards farmers, I needed to go on supervision time and again. We had a bike with the white number plate. But it was my assistant who used to get a luxury of using it. After enough of being driven around, I finally felt that I need a driving lesson. But it was a humiliating experience to get lessons from a junior. I don’t mean it’s a shame to get lessons from a junior staff. But the way he gives orders and raise voice when I make mistakes wasn’t acceptable to me as his boss.
By the time I was transferred to the Central Office in capacity of Technical Officer, I was already accustomed with the functions of accelerator, clutch, gear and brakes. However, I hadn’t built up enough confidence to apply for a driving license. I was the only Officer who doesn’t ride a bike. While even the lower level staffs used to come on bikes, I’ve to be happy coming on public vehicles every day. And I never felt shame on it.
One day, I demanded a bike with my boss, like the office had arranged for all other Officers. I was told to get a driving license first. But even to get a license, I need a bike to practice. And to get a bike, I need to have a license. I felt like I was terribly stranded in this desperate loop. But I knew the resources we have in this fiscal year was so limited that it won’t procure me a bike, even if I had a license in hand.
In the meantime, one of the Officer was transferred from our office and I was given his responsibility in the Planning Section. I took it as green signal. Along with the burden of Planning Section, I thought, I would be provided with a bike which a Planning Officer rides. However, the story didn’t go in my favor. A shrewd junior staff hijacked the bike with a legitimate call, “Sir, it’s very ‘dangerous’ to ride a bike without a license. According to Section 162, Sub-Section 2 of Transport Management Act 2049, you will have to languish in jail for 8 years if any unfortunate happens.” It was really frustrating. I had never thought that not having a driving license would be proved so humiliating someday.
Hence, I immediately joined a driving class which provides a real scenario of trial test. After a week of course, I was finally ready to apply for a driving license. Going through the hectic procedures of submitting the application, I passed the written test also. I felt a need of doing the last trial practice right before the real test. There’s another Pre-Test driving center near the Trolley Bus Station where the real test happens. I decided to give a try there as well.
However, this decision of mine turned bad when the test trial, instead of boosting my confidence, decreased it. The bike I was provided was totally out of condition. It could hardly come into neutral. It didn’t even have a functional self-start button. I was a matter of public joke, when the engine stopped working in the middle of trial practice. To make the matters worse, I hadn’t learnt well to start the bike with kicks. First round was totally a mess. My confidence level was totally down by the end of second round and my turn was over. Forget about going on the track; I could hardly control the bike. I almost lost hope that I would pass the real trail test that day.
Then a stranger guy came by and asked me, “Is it really difficult to become a rider?” I responded, “May be yes because I’m a bad rider or the bike is even worse than me.” While I was waiting for my next turn of another round, he showed interest in having further conversation with me. In a very diplomatic way he told me, “I could get you a license even if you fail the trial test.”
I tell you I was really in a despondent state. When he hinted that, I felt as if I met my savior. Instead of waiting for another three months even to restart the application process, I was ready to throw any bucks he names. I asked the price for it. He named Rs 6,000 for the hanky-panky job. I felt like exclaiming, “…JUST?” It wasn’t a large figure considering the risk involved in it. But I need to make sure I’m not being swindled. He assured me, “Just give me your receipt and the registration number. Make payments only after you have an original license in hand.” Sounds legitimate.
I was introduced with another guy with a long hair. He took my receipt and I took his phone number. He gave me a bike also to make few trial practices. This time the bike was in condition, most importantly with a functional self-start button. I made 5-6 rounds without interruptions. I wasn’t stopped by anyone after second round this time. However, the trial practice wasn’t going well yet. I was often going out of delineated path. The more I lost confidence in myself, the more I started having faith on the guy-with-the-long-hair.
When it was time, he gave me a lift on his bike and took me to the real test venue i.e. Trolley Bus Station. On the way, he gave some tips on how to pass the trial test. I told to myself, “Nice customer service.”
There was already a long queue of the test takers, probably waiting for their turn since the early morning. I felt guilty to those people, when the Guy-with-the-long-hair took me to the front and inserted me into queue. How could I be so mean?
Staying on the queue, I realized that the trial path is different than that of the center I’ve practiced for a week. I noticed hardly 10 percent of the test takers were passing the trial test. The more I saw failure gesture of the candidates coming outside, the more I had faith on the Guy-with-the-long-hair.
It was my turn to take the trial test. As directed in the Driving License Guide Book, which I had read while preparing for written test, I put on helmet correctly and checked the side lights before moving forward. I told to myself, “You passed the first test.” Then I had to pass through the first hurdle- ‘Figure 8 test’. I had almost completed the path. But while going through the last curve, I touched the boundary by an inch. The traffic police blew his whistle, signaling my game was over.
The Guy-with-the-long-hair received me outside. I told him desperately, “I failed just by an inch.” He consoled, “I know. You did well. But don’t worry. You have already passed the test.” It was a great solace for me. I left everything in the hand of my ‘savior’. He told me to give him a call in the afternoon.
I was busy all day with my official chores. Only in the evening I could contact him, expecting a miracle. But Alas! He begged pardon for not being able to create one. “There was tight monitoring today,” my savior surrendered.
It was really a frustrating moment. Although I didn’t lose any money, I’ll be losing precious three months, until I can apply for next trial test. I started blaming the rules which are made stringent unnecessarily. It should be a fundamental right to ride on any road, being a citizen of a country. Why am I forbidden to use the road within the boundary of my own country? If one fails to pass the ‘Figure 8 test’, it doesn’t mean he knows nothing. Where on earth do we have that 8-shaped path? The trial should at least be based on Best-of-three format. Or else, they should condone the ‘crime’ of touching the boundary by an inch. It’s the rigorous rules of trial test which made us have faith on the people like the Guy-with-the-long-hair. Is that what the rule-makers and the traffic police want? Yeah, I sound like a total crap; but if the rules and my situation remain same, I’ll never have a luxury of having a precious thing known as “The Driving License”.
Updates: I passed the test only in the third attempt. So guys, don’t lose hope. Keep trying. One day you will be a legitimate rider.
