Skip to main content

The Royal Enfield Bullet Classic C5

If there’s one bike that Indians should be proud of, this is the one.

Comments

saurabh said…
Rob/Prateek... anything???
Anonymous said…
I think u r fed up of ur wife and u dont want her to sit behind and bug :))))
Deepanjan said…
Here's a fascinating article I'm sure you'll love.
Anonymous said…
I think instead of being proud for a British bike we should be proud of "Bajaj Pulsar"-The one and only Indian designed and manufactured bike.

Prateek aur Saurabh bhai : Le lo Deepanjan gaddar/deshdrohi ka :)
vivek said…
^^@Anonymous - he got it from the NYT. It's the gospel truth for him ;-)
Ashish said…
by the way : "Bajaj Pulsar" anonymous mail was from me - Ashish

Popular posts from this blog

This is what Bertrand Russell said about religion...

Religion is based, I think, primarily and mainly upon fear. It is partly the terror of the unknown and partly, as I have said, the wish to feel that you have a kind of elder brother who will stand by you in all your troubles and disputes. ... A good world needs knowledge, kindliness, and courage; it does not need a regretful hankering after the past or a fettering of the free intelligence by the words uttered long ago by ignorant men.

The year that was

I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still ...