You are currently browsing the tag archive for the 'helmet' tag.
Recently I was reduced to twiddling my thumbs at my son’s pediatrician’s waiting room. I had failed to carry reading material along and the (Film)fare on offer did not appeal. So I sat back and watched – kids of all sizes scooting around, at play in their own imaginary worlds; and their parents (in one case a grandpa had tagged along with his cane), who almost without exception had their eyes glued to the ubiquitous idiot box set up high in a corner.
Then a new set of parents entered, toddler in tow, the father still wearing his helmet…
I was overwhelmed by a sudden urge, and leaned over and whisper in my son’s ear (I know what you’re thinking – but sorry to disappoint – no, it wasn’t a case of role reversal combined with a need to use the restroom!) Sonny promptly dissolved into laughter as curious looks (as well as a couple of the dirty variety) were cast in our direction. I had described to him the impulse that had swept over me – to grab the elderly gentleman’s cane, do a quick reversal (in a parody of “Crazy Cool Paula Abdul“) and whack the newcomer across the side of his headgear, shouting “Fore!” You see this particular helmet was off-white with even dimples all over and bore an amazing likeness to a giant golf ball!
Fortunately I controlled the urge as well as my laughter (though I did dimple – you can’t blame me!) – or else I’d have served time in the clink for:
1. Assault and battery
2. Adding to insult to injury by way of hilarity.
One warm summer morning a few years ago I was running slightly late and rushed into the office vestibule where we leave our lunch bags and other paraphernalia. I had plonked my lunch on a shelf at waist height when something made me look up – inches from my face was a yawning black maw that emitted what can only be described as dungeon breath: a warm, stale stink… The bile rose up in my throat and I took a step backward.
“Barff!” it said.
I almost did.
No, it wasn’t a monster out of my worst nightmare. It was an old battered helmet set on the shelf above, its visor agape, reeking of stale sweat. It had initially borne the legend “Banff” but the “n” had been partially worn away – thus the very apt order to puke.
Guys! Besides the obvious safety factor, the helmet can cover up faults and lend an enigmatic aura. But please wear clean absorbent cotton caps beneath (the “undies” minus two holes, remember?!) and replace your armor at least every 2-3 years (which is the “life” of the helmet).
Finally, what does the “H” in “H. horribilis” stand for – “Homo” or “Helmetus”? You decide.
© Sosha Srinivasan
Traveling 30 kilometres to and from the workplace the last three years astride a large motorized scooter hasn’t done anything for my lower spine and hips. Things came to a head when I pulled an unnameable muscle which I aggravated by trying to sit cross legged (not on the scooter, silly, on the floor!) I’m not sure if I partially dislocated my right hip, but it certainly felt like it. The net result is that I’m now forced to sit side saddle when riding pillion.
The advantages? I get to see the world go by face on, not in the periphery of my vision. I get amazed, questioning looks and I can almost read the owners’ thoughts – “Is she for real?” “Why the heck is she wearing a helmet when she doesn’t have to?” You see, even though there are plenty of helmeted women driving two-wheelers, female pillion riders wearing armor are a rarity. I have seen exactly two so far – yes, two – besides myself – one works with me and the other was a passing stranger.
A light drizzle turns into a heavy shower and the rain drums on my helmet. I drift off into a daydream… I am rushing headlong into a hidey hole to take refuge from a marauding tribe. To my horror, I’m in a huge drum that they then use to broadcast my escape. Thump! Thump! Thump! I can’t bear it any longer and I stagger out, head reeling… Shades of Phantom and the Jungle Telegraph? I did warn you, Thurber and Walter Mitty are men after my heart and imagination… I’m brought back to reality by a hard pull on my arm. Hubby’s stopped the scooter and is trying to take shelter from the wet…
The rain’s let up now and we’re back on the road. At the next traffic signal. a local yokel on a flashy red mobike roars to a stop beside us. I try to suppress a smile – the posture he adopts reminds me of a circus chimp on a bicycle. I’ve neglected to wear “The Mummy” disguise for once and he catches the ghost of a grin and misunderstands, because… horrors! He throws me what I take to be an amorous look and proceeds to preen like he’s the cat’s whiskers!
He’d stop that in a hurry and vanish in a trail of burning rubber and exhaust if I just took off that helmet… to reveal a soft blue cotton cap that looks rather like underwear minus two holes. (A neighbor’s toddler actually pulled on a pair of his over his head in a parody of us. His mother yanked it off, throwing us a accusatory look.)
Next I could pull off the cap to reveal my grey locks and that would really shake Monkey Man/ Cat Boy off I’m sure! Meanwhile he could audition for a sequel to the “Fantastic Four”, called perhaps “The Furry Five”!
Another time someone blares his horn continuously behind us – most irritating because we are going at a fair clip – I turn my head slightly to the left and fix the car with what I hope is a baleful glare. It works. He stops honking. But now I’m assailed by doubt – has the driver behind the tinted windows given up on leaning on the horn because he’s too busy wiping tears of laughter from his eyes at the spectacle before him (me – this time in “The Mummy” wrappings)…
© Sosha Srinivasan
Prior to the helmet hoopla, I would wind a dupatta (a fine cotton shawl) around my head and face to ward off the dust and pollution. (If I didn’t my hair would end up smelling of vehicle exhaust and I’d probably be hurriedly directed to the nearest carwash.) This sartorial style would draw odd looks and the occasional comment – “Bin Laden’s wife” was one smart Aleck’s contribution.
There is talk that this shortlived law was implemented just so that helmet
dealers close to power could make huge short term profits through
increased sales in the run up to the deadline. But shhhh! Don’t tell anyone!
I’ve got my hair cut real close, real short, this summer but the stylist, throwing me a pitying look, left a large redeeming tuft in front so that I now bear a distinct resemblance to Tintin.
Thus shorn, (lamb to the slaughter?) I go forth to do battle at the workplace – new-age coat of mail protecting my head, lest I lose it before I get there… Between us, we resemble a couple of screen characters – hubby, my very own knight in shining armour, in a gleaming silver version of Darth Vader’s mask, and me – with my nose and mouth covered with a pale scarf under the helmet – “The Mummy “. But what do you know? That’s what my son has been calling me all these years!
Whichever way you look at it, I am now a comic strip look-alike, but mum’s the word, okay?
© Sosha Srinivasan
Wearing a helmet wasn’t as bad as I’d expected, except on our Indian dog days (“agni nakshatram” in local parlance – literally translated as “fire star” – 4th May to 29th May this year) when the peak temperatures remain in the 40s. The biggest advantage (other than the safety factor, of course) is that I can wear my contacts safely behind the visor.
The helmet rule - or rather misrule in this case – was implemented with well over 90% observance of the law – for exactly two days . The state government bowed to pressure and relaxed the law for women and children riding pillion (as if their skulls are somehow shockproof). A week later, those driving are also doffing them – the police look the other way, and the issue has descended to the level of a farce. My husband continues to wear his.
I resent the implication that a woman’s life is worth less than that of a man and have decided to continue to wear a helmet as a matter of principle and as a show of protest. But many women have dumped theirs – sacrificing equality and safety on the altar of comfort and convenience. This, in the land of the Mahabharat in which Gandhari was said to have blindfolded herself on marrying the blind king Dhritirashtra. That the intention was creditable if slightly misplaced is another matter altogether (I would have rather she had retained her sight and been his eyes) But if she could give up vision for a lifetime, cannot modern woman share her husband’s discomfort over what are, after all, short rides?
It isn’t over yet. A local lawyer has sent a notice to the Director General of Police, threatening to initiate contempt proceedings for not implementing the law.
© Sosha Srinivasan
I have had a motorized 2-wheeler license for close to 20 years (being one of the first women in the city to get one). I know the arguments for the use of helmets and actually favor them, but have never worn one. Why? Because of the weather. You’re damned if you do and you are damned if you don’t – either way it’s hell met. The heat is bad enough without the helmet. Irresponsible? No, I just took a calculated risk and lived to tell the tale.
Only now, from the 1st of next month, helmets will be made mandatory in Chennai. The city has been trying to implement this for the last few years – but had to give in to pressure from different quarters – even now there is a PIL filed against the order and most people think it may be scrapped.
Anyway, come what may, we have bought two helmets and have been slowly breaking them in over the last few days… Perhaps I feel my luck is running out…?!
© Sosha Srinivasan
Recent Comments