I learnt wheelie before I learnt to ride a two wheeler and that too as a pillion driver. Great technique taught by my mom who never rode a two wheeler either.
The curtain lifts on the Abraham family in the 1970s when Lambretta’s ruled the Delhi roads and you could reach anywhere in the city within 30 mins.
Dad would start the lambretta and call out to us in a controlled angry voice. I would fly down from the first floor and jump in front while my brother would shyly squeeze behind my dad almost climbing on to dad’s back like a creeper. The idea was to make maximum room for my very prominent mom.
Mom would hurriedly come and land with a thud in no particular style on the back seat. The lambretta would bend backwards with the weight and do a wheelie . Easy technique and no balance needed. Dad became a pro at it and I observed with interest.
Then there was the time when dad proudly brought his first – second hand Ambassador car. The car had a fetish for a ‘push’ and it would call out to all the children in the block to make it roar. Mom would be embarrassed but dad took everything in his stride.
So it was Mom’s first driving lesson and I was the observer in the back seat. My brother sensing impending danger excused himself to be with Tintin on one of his voyages.
Mom had dressed up and even put a flower on her bun as she wanted to say hello to her friend Mrs Mullackal as she drove past her house . Dad loved giving a sermon before he actually gives you the signal for action. With the flower precariously balanced on her slowly easing out bun mom had no patience for any preaching . I suspect she would have been happy with a picture on the wheel but dad was an action man. You have to learn driving ,he insisted .
Mom started the car which jumped in fright when she released the clutch, as suddenly as she would change her stand on any contentious issues . It protested while dad pulled the steering to the left and mom to the right. There were all kinds of threats and physical violence going on in the front seat with slaps on the head , a pinch on the hand and mom coming down heavily with her foot on dad’s, pretending it to be the clutch ( which at that time had to be pressed fully and hard ). Memory fails me on details but with her flower fallen out of the bun, mom had nothing to lose – she landed the car into the nearby ditch and fumed out.
Dad was a very meticulous and serious teacher but no one could make my mom a student. She was a born ruler. Mom only baked, cooked and did make up seriously. Everything else was trivial and mundane for her.
I don’t remember mom ever taking driving seriously after that. Years after history would repeat itself with me but let us tread on my experience slowly from the two-wheeler to the four-wheeler. My first teacher for riding a two wheeler was my dad so I will leave it to your imagination on what will follow….

My driving lessons
The Red Kinetic Honda
I was promised a GTS (the Bobby one which Rishi Kapoor rode ) on passing my 12th standard with a first class . I was successful but it came at a cost . My dad developed amnesia at mom’s instance and never got out of it for that particular matter.
Finally Dad bought a second hand kinetic honda after my college , but for vegetable shopping and taking my mom to the church every Saturday for confessions. My parents were never worried about fights and sins. They could indulge in all and be easily absolved of everything by the priest – come Saturday.
So the bright red kinetic honda (kh) begged dad’s fiat for some space in the verandah and her majesty made a small corner for it . Princey my pet and I would look at the kh longingly for some action but our turn took a long time to come.
There was a narrow road in front of our house which would allow anything and anyone from a trailer to a bicycle to tread on it from the main entrance. However only the few priviledged , on two wheels could reach their destination on the other side. Two iron bars erected with space enough only for two wheelers blocked the way on the other end . A clever Uncle in his 70s who had a huge balance of grey matter remaining, with having used very little in his government job had come up with this treacherous idea. My dad would skilfully balance mom anywhere and everywhere on the kh but somehow when he went between these two bars he would remember her tyranny and drop her down unceremoniously .
To make matters worse mom’s friend Mrs Bakshi , staying near the accident scene would spot them and call out to my dad – Arrey Mr Abraham phir se apna saaman gira diya? (Hey Mr Abraham again you have dropped your baggage ?) It was the most catastrophic incident which happened every Saturday without fail till my mom started crossing the great divide on foot and dad seamlessly waded through it on the KH . On the other side of the bars , man and women would be united again before the union with God.
My dad one day suddenly announced that he was going to teach me how to ride the KH. I hugged and kissed him while princey suspiciously looked at my mother. Princey had overheard my mom chiding my father many times when he wanted to teach me driving.
Anyway I was ready at 8:30 the next day in my tracks and T shirt. I opened the iron gate ready to bring the vehicle out. Dad waved a finger and said no need to open the gate. I was surprised – was dad going to teach me how to fly over the gate in my first lesson itself ?

To be continued….