When I first made contact with Fazeela U., a couple of years ago, she was a boring, uninterested, confused and feeble voice over the telephone. We weren’t friends back then – we still aren’t. She introduces me to people as Vishnu’s friend.
Vishnu V.V, the bridge between me and Fazeela was an old friend. He repairs motorcycles, raises dogs and birds, adores Valentino Rossi, and more than everything he used to ride amateur Motocross competitions until he suffered broken bones, dislocated shoulders, and called it quits.
Motorsport is dangerous, reads one of the one-line statuses he used to feed on his WhatsApp account.
Then happened, Fazeela U., a woman who’s courageous enough to roam around in Kerala and outside of State on a 16 HP motorcycle. He doesn’t call her his protégé but she races under his command.
“Thaththa parayunnatha shari” (Whatever Vishnu saying is right), she would say, in a mimicking voice of a parrot, an apparent dig at Vishnu, who got the nickname Thaththa (means parrot in Malayalam) for his childhood deeds that primarily involved climbing headless coconut trees and catching parrots.
When I finally wrote about Fazeela U., I didn’t have much faith in her story. She was naïve, extremely unfriendly in her voice, and was spitting words with pauses that’d require me to fast-forward our voice record at playback speed to a menacingly 2.0
“You are the first person I gave an interview, right?” she asked once when we were a bit closer than the time, we had that interview. I was unsure. I skipped the question.
Years after that interview ended up in a corner of the World Wide Web, and she placing herself on the podium in competitions across India, we met again. This time, I’m a confidant of her.
We were waiting for a TV crew to interview her at a pineapple plantation where she’s practicing on weekends. She has done at least a dozen interviews with top TV Channels in Kerala. She no longer is that grumpy voiced, uncut gem waiting to be discovered.
Under the scorching September sun, wearing a bright color orange race gear and she’s waiting for Vishnu to do the last-minute tuning of the motorcycle, which is a Hero Impulse. It has nothing in it, except the exterior, to call it an Impulse.
They kept the iconic dirt bike design intact while changing the dynamics of the machine’s soul. It’s loud like a cracker, with the engine now twice more powerful than an original Impulse.
She hopped on the bike and slammed the kicker. The teal-colored Hero Impulse that had a Tom and Jerry sticker on its belly roared into life. Like flies to light, people showed up in the corner of the hills on both sides. Children ascend the narrow path down the hill to join the drama.
“They are regulars here,” said Fazeela U.
The pack had two girls, one wearing a short skirt stretching just below her knee. An elder man joined the gang, introduced himself as the uncle of the kids, surveyed the surrounding, and faced the girl in a short skirt.
“Go change this dress, daughter”
She complained. “Do I have to climb the hill all the way back?”
“Of course, do you think the dress is going to fly down on its own?” Uncle said, rather admonishingly.
I and Fazeela exchanged a glance, she wanted to burst into laughter in her Yeti-like costume. It’d be awkward, I thought.
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