The very first time you do something is the time you truly do it for yourself. Every subsequent time becomes for something or someone else.
It has been a long-standing tradition of the #mooners to climb up to the top of Nandi on our bicycles. I started this tradition because every single time I climbed this hill, the act made me a different person. EVERY SINGLE TIME. That experience of rejuvenation usually comes at a higher price otherwise, but Nandi seemed like a more accessible version. And also because it is a seemingly indomitable task for most beginner cyclists who come aboard the mooners. The Nandi climb has all the makings of the perfect bucket list item.
I have heard many riders say — "Oh my, I could never ride to the top of Nandi" — and all I could say is "Challenge accepted!" And thus began my journey of hauling a maximum number of fresh unseasoned riders to the top of this hill on the first Saturday of every month.
The April 2021 Edition
On April 3rd, 2021, 16 riders — and an additional bunch of 5 who are kinda seasoned and rode at a faster pace — attempted this climb in the hottest month of the year. Apart from the large number, I achieved a 100% success rate: everyone who started the climb made it to the top. That success rate isn't new, but it definitely is a big deal with so many riders. And everyone completely adhered to the one rule — there shall be no pushing of the bicycle. We also have an unspoken rule that we have to celebrate with ice cream at the top.
The Role I Play
But how is this my achievement? It is not. I am only but a part of the achievements of every single one of the riders on this day and days past. Every time I ride up Nandi during this monthly ride, I tend to stay at the back of the pack and make it a point to hang with the slow riders who are doing all sorts of wrong things in their pathetic attempt to conquer this beast. And I guide them through based on the mistakes I made and how I corrected them.
Mind you, my first ever Nandi climb some 13 years ago took me some 3.5 hours, a lot of tears, and a considerable amount of cursing. When I am guiding riders up, sometimes I am the caring mom, sometimes the physics teacher, sometimes the military drill instructor, sometimes the psychotherapist. Sometimes I am a cartoon mascot that is a personified train, sometimes the you'll-never-do-anything-good-in-life critic, sometimes the nudging dad, sometimes the voice in your head. And sometimes I am simply absent.
I had long since discovered that on these particular rides, I can't do any personal-best times. I am here because I mocked someone for their self-doubt. I am here because at the end of it all, I find happiness in being right there when I see you accomplish something you thought was not possible.
Why This Edition Was Personal
This ride of April 2021 is special to me at a personal level — were it not, I wouldn't be taking the time to write about it and forcing you to endure reading about it. It was special because I set out with the goal of doing two consecutive climbs on this day. Simply because I missed doing one in March and this felt like a good way to compensate.
The goal was to start early, smash one climb up as fast as I can, come back down to start afresh, then easy ride it up nice and slow alongside those who needed the support. I had chopped off my beard, got myself a crew-style haircut, shaved my legs, and put in some sort of training a few weeks before. Guess what? I didn't do my two climbs.
I happened to start late because of the domino effect of things that happened at the start of the ride. And then the climb became anything like a usual Top of the Nandi to You, role-playing all kinds of personalities to provide motivation. What I did manage to do was go up some, then turn around till I caught up with the slowest rider, then ride up a bit and come back down again. In all this up-and-down business I was done for by the time I was at T-minus 3 curves. I had developed a cramp and was running purely on the power of the mind — like most of the beginners around me at this point in their first attempt.
As I reached the summit, I realised how important it was to hear the cheering of the riders. I realised what adrenaline felt like. I realised that I was in tears. I realised that — the very first time you do something is the time you truly do it for yourself. Every subsequent time becomes for something or someone else. And the futility of my first attempt at doing two climbs ensured that I realise once again what a daunting task riding to the top of Nandi can be.
To Every Rider, Past and Future
I want all the riders — past, present and future — who will attempt 'Top of the Nandi to You' to know that the ease with which this ride is put together did not come easy. The break spots, the welcomes from familiar places, the tips and tricks, the stories, the inside jokes — all came from every single past version of the ride.
"We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty." — Maya Angelou
Carry on this legacy and pass it on with pride, in the hopes that everyone will find a way to outdo themselves.