This evening we were returning home after playing cricket at the ground. I was sitting behind Sunil on his ubiquitous Pulsar, and I had three cricket bats and four stumps on me. We said bye to everyone and set off. Sunil drove far enough to get out of earshot of everyone and that's when the bike stalled, which isn't exactly unprecedented, knowing Sunil's exacting maintenance standards. After some pumping of the bike, tilting of the bike, kneeling and praying, we still weren't able to get it to start again. So, we opened the petrol tank and peered inside, only to find that half of it was water. Bloody rain. So we took turns to push the bike and hold the cricketing paraphernalia, which weighs around a ton, and walked back to my place in the gathering gloom. I was sitting at home relaxing when Sunil called me and said the balls were still with him, and since one can't play cricket without balls the next morning which Sunil would not come to, I went to get them from him at his place. It was there that he broke the news that the problem with his bike was that someone had tampered with some wire that was supposed to come out of the carburettor, and was hanging lose.
Trust Sunil's bike to get into trouble.
And there was this girl walking near Sunil's house who I stared at, and she stared back, for nearly 30 seconds, as I slowly drove by. Sunil, I'm dropping you home everyday man.