The Blind Ride: Hyderabadi RX100 Misadventure That Terrified Every Pillion Rider

Comic illustration of a man riding RX100 at night wearing black sunglasses

# **The Blind Ride: When Hyderabad Survived My Midnight Madness**

*A “The Complete Magazine” Original Tale*

Hyderabad of the ’80s had its own charm—quiet nights, buzzing streets, and one absolute menace on two wheels: **me**.

Every night, once the studio shutter clanged shut, my faithful beast—the legendary **Yamaha RX 100**—would awaken. Smooth, loud, and wickedly fast. But the real twist? I’d slip on a pair of **pitch-black sunglasses**—the iconic *Karamchand spy shades*—long after sunset.

Not for fashion.

Not for swag.

But to *scare the living daylights* out of the city.

Picture it: a lean silhouette tearing through the dim-lit streets, wearing sunglasses at night. Drivers froze. Pedestrians jumped aside. One guy even shouted,

**“Arrey baap re! Andha admi bike chala raha!”**

(Oh God! A blind man is riding a bike!)

Little did they know—my vision was perfect.

My intentions? Questionable.

### **The Real Fun Began When Someone Asked for a Lift**

I had one rule:

If the guy looked sensible, mature, or intelligent—ignore.

If he looked *gullible*? Jackpot.

I’d slow the bike just enough to give them false hope.

“Bhai, Abids?” they’d ask.

I’d nod silently.

They’d hop on. And then…

**Hell officially began.**

The moment they adjusted their seating, believing they were in safe company, my RX 100 would scream into the night. Sharp cuts. Sudden zig-zags. Close calls with lorries. Gaps no sane person would attempt.

Behind me, chaos:

**“Saaaaaab! Hallooo! Meri jaan nikal rahi!”**

(Sir! Slow down! My soul is leaving my body!)

Funny pillion rider clinging in fear on motorcycle in Indian city at night

I’d act confused, shouting over the engine:

**“Kya? Traffic ka awaaz hai! Kuch sunne nahi aaa ra!”**

(Can’t hear you! Too much traffic noise!)

The final punch?

Missing their stop on purpose.

I’d race right past it, pretending innocence:

**“Arrey hauo! sunna nai jab! Chalo, ab agle signal pe utaroon?”**

(Oh! I wasn’t paying attention. Shall I drop you at the next signal?)

By then the passenger would be pale, sweating, praying,

and promising God never to accept lifts from strangers again.

Wicked?

Absolutely.

Regrettable?

Never.

Unforgettable?

**A million times yes.**

Those nights were madness, mischief, and magic—Hyderabad’s streets still whisper about them.

For more Spicy stories

https://thecompletemagazine.blogspot.com/2025/12/studio-tales-vintage-hyderabad-photo-studio.html

https://thecompletemagazine.blogspot.com/2025/11/naughty-nukkad-pranks-rickshaw.html

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