Short Story: My Royal Enfield 350 & Bindhiya

“My dad gave me three life rules to live by:

1. If you are right, then don’t fear anyone

2. Walk with your head held high & feet firmly on the ground, and,

3. If you have to take sides, then, always side the righteous

The first two were easy, but the third one proved difficult all because of a cheeseburger. Let me explain.”

On my 21st birthday, dad gifted me a Royal Enfield Bullet 350. The moment I took her by the horns, I knew, she was the one for me. Strong, bold & beautiful. When I rode her the thumping exhaust reminded passersby of the wonderful time we were having. Truly, she was one lady who was hard to please. She wouldn’t take a frail, underdressed man. Only the endowed & fortunate were allowed to tame this tigress.

Royal Enfield
The moment I took her by the horns, I knew, she was the one for me. Strong, bold & beautiful.

Together we shared so many adventures. Each moment was a lifetime memory, painted with fun and excitement. She was a one-man woman or should I say that I never allowed anyone else to ride her. We romanced our way through my college years, cruised through MBA and zipped into work life.

This continued until ‘Bindhiya’ entered my life…she was just like her name, dainty like a ‘dew-drop’. Her million dollar smile lit up every conversation.

She was pleasant, popular & full of fun. Everyone at the office was always praising her no-nonsense attitude, commitment to work & intelligence. Most men secretly praised her ‘assets’ & wondered if she would allow them to ‘tally’. However, Bindhiya had her way of keeping her distance with unwanted liabilities. She chose me among the eligible bachelors at the office.

We were now the power of three, my bullet, Bindhiya and me. We would take off on long rides, racing against the breeze.

The boys would know what it means to ride a bullet with a hot, sexy woman in the pillion seat. I was the object of envy at work & I gloated with pride, enjoying the attention.


Dating Bindhiya and riding my bullet was a double whammy. I had the best of both worlds. I just couldn’t decide what was better, mounting Bindhiya or my bullet. Both gave me the ultimate feeling of masculinity. I ensured that I divided my time equally between the two ladies. The balancing act was tough but I achieved it through lots of adjustments.

Everything was going great until that fateful day…

It was Christmas time and celebrating it in a grand manner was the new fad in the corporate Indian culture. A customary X’mas tree was put up with colourful gifts at its base. The air resonated with the traditional ‘Jingle-bells’ song. It irritated me to the core, not a single person had bothered to Google what Christmas really meant. There was no ‘Christ’ in the festival – just frivolous fun. I wanted to leave & signalled Bindhiya multiple times. She insisted on staying and participating in the jamboree. I finally put my foot down, I was leaving.

I stormed out of the party with Bindhiya in tow. We stopped at my bullet.

“Rohit, what is wrong with you, its Christmas!! Let’s enjoy the party!”

“Stop it Bindhiya, let me drop you home, you have had a bit too much to drink.”

She waved a gooey cheeseburger in the air and exclaimed, “Nonsense, I am just fffff….iii…neee! Have a bite of this cheeseburger, its yaaayyyyyymmmmmeeeee!”


I flicked her hand aside and to my amazement, the cheeseburger flew out of her hand and landed on my bullet. The cheese oozed out of the bread and stained the seat. I gaped in utter horror! This was the first time that she had been treated this way. It was horrid.

Bindhiya looked at my expression and suddenly came back to her senses.

“Oh gosh! I am so sorry!”

She fished out a tissue and started rubbing the seat.

She was touching my bullet inappropriately, my baby was being exploited. I was not going to allow that.

I lost my mind and wielded a slap on Bindhiya’s pretty face. Her cheeks went red as my fingers got imprinted on them. She screamed in agony, turned and hit me back, what followed was a scuffle, a struggle for power. I pushed her so hard and she landed on the bullet that got dislodged and fell to the ground. This was the final straw, I shoved her aside and rushed to pick Bindhiya. She was hurt and was bleeding. I took her back inside, gave her first aid and rushed to my baby.

She stood there as if nothing had happened. She never complained or nagged me for anything. Why couldn’t Bindhiya be like her?

Needless to mention that my relationship with Bindhiya ended that day. I didn’t need her kind of negativity in my life. It was surely difficult to follow what my dad taught me, I had to take sides, I chose to remain with the righteous. A mere girl couldn’t come in between me and the love of my life. Must confess that it was the most difficult decision of my life. But then, it had to be done.


Six months later, I attended Bindhiya’s wedding. She chose to marry a man who hates bikes. I wondered whether he was a man at all. Nevertheless, she smiled when she saw me. Her captivating smile still made me go stiff, but melting was not an option.

That evening, I gifted myself a miniature Bullet – that was my way of sealing revenge.


Penned by:

Mayura Amarkant 

I’m participating in the Write Tribe Festival of Words – June 2018




10 thoughts on “Short Story: My Royal Enfield 350 & Bindhiya

  1. Superbbbb ur posts are always a delight to read so meaningful and very well penned down need to learn from u the art of writing

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh this was hilarious and penned with such wit and satire. Loved it Mayura.

    I do wonder though do dads really gift bikes to their kids? Have seen such opposition to the “damned” thing cos it’s dangerous, in my family.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I am from South Mumbai. Its normal for parents to gift a bike to their kids. I got a Kinetic Honda, and my brother got a Yamaha RX 100. Bullet was a dream…expensive and out of reach for many of us…thank you so much for stopping by darling….

      Liked by 1 person

  3. How could he choose a bike over a girl
    This goes to say he didn’t know what human relations are!
    Loving an inanimate object is cool but Slapping his girlfriend for dropping cheese on his bike!!- that’s obsessive!
    Amazingly well written Mayura Amarkant you’ve really brought forth how guys can get obsessed with their rides.

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: