The best way of seeing a city, they say, is on foot. Not always in India though, where pavements are often non-existent and you’re not too sure what you’re stepping into (anything from cow dung to an open manhole). A cycle is downright dangerous, and in a car you see, but don’t experience. The mid-path then, is a motorbike that can weave in and out of traffic, is relatively safe, and gives you a sort of ride-through experience without the slowness of walking or the aloofness of a four-wheeler. It works very well in most of our Indian cities, which is why two-wheelers account for 80% of the Indian automobile market, according to an India Brand Equity Foundation report.
I don’t ride a bike. In fact, I haven’t been on one in 20 years. So when I hear there’s an Airbnb bike tour of a city I have spent most of my adult life in, I am intrigued (₹3,999; book online). ‘What can I see that I haven’t already?’ I wonder. The idea is to ride pillion on a four-hour tour, covering bits and pieces of Delhi: the old city, Lutyen’s parts, the chaos of the southern part of town (often touted as the cool downtown).
Mohit Barman is 29 and from Assam. After working in Mumbai as a tele-caller and then in Delhi as a multimedia professional, he grew so bored that he quit and started a bike rental company. He was also propelled into it after a bad experience with a bike rental company. “We returned the bike an hour late and they threw a heavy fine at us. Most companies won’t return your deposit, often saying you’ve scratched it or done some other damage,” he says.
In the meantime, his wife, a make-up artist by profession, began to give their home out to Airbnb, once the couple had a baby. Barman decided to merge the two concepts into one and offer a 4- to 5-hour service that takes people around the city, giving them glimpses of Delhi. Barman brings around the Bajaj Avenger Cruise 220 that he finds useful under most conditions. He has taken over 200 people all over the country on it and has rented it out as well. “Its low height means there’s minimal risk of falling, and because it’s a cruiser it’s comfortable for both the rider and the pillion,” he says. Do ask for a helmet in your size, and carry along a shower cap, so you’re not left wondering about who’s worn it before you.
The best part of his job is meeting so many different types of people: the English mountaineer who’d been in the country a year and a half but still wanted more, the energetic 70-year-old Russian army man who took over riding the bike, and the woman from Fiji who owned a B&B back home and wanted to shop for friends, but only after sundown.
Barman will customise the experience, depending on what each person is looking for, but he does have a few basic stops: Old Delhi, with its spice markets, the silver jewellery and brass lane (Dariba), the wholesale cloth lane (Sadar Bazaar). If you want to stop and shop, he will let you. What he won’t do is chatter on about the history of Chandni Chowk or about when India Gate was built. He’s not a ‘guide’ in the sense one is used to, and lets you pause where you want. He’s not from Delhi, so if you’re expecting to find the hidden grave of Razia Sultan, he’s not your man. What he does is take you through Delhi and its surroundings using his experiences. He’s lived here for six years, and like most new entrants, found his way through the city through the demands of daily living: looking for the best place to buy a computer (Nehru Place), camera parts (‘Photo Market’ in Chandni Chowk), the best place to eat khar (a banana leaf-papaya preparation: Assam Bhawan), and where to take your injured bird (Digambar Jain Mandir, where they treat it without charge and then set it free).
On a bike, everything seems more vivid, magnified. The heat for starters, the dust, the bumps — even a speed breaker. But also the greenery and the cool air as you pass the Raj Ghat area.
In Chandni Chowk, there is a great deal more non-verbal communication between people as you get stuck in traffic and encounter bikes carrying sacks as their pillion: a shake of the head that indicates who goes first, a wave of the hand to tell the auto driver that he can thrust his single-wheeled front into a little gap.
Close to Khari Baoli, the spice market, you can look up to the top of the teal Hotel Taj Mahal on Church Mission Road, its grilles and balconies leaving you wondering of another time, when perhaps the road wasn’t so crowded and SUVs didn’t fill spaces meant for cycles. You take photos sitting on the bike, of the brilliant colours of nimboo-mirchi or the almost tumble-down but once-lovely building that houses Agarwal Book Depot (wholesale book seller, stationers and order suppliers). You stop at Chaman Masala Company to make a choice between Milk O Mix and the Kulfi mix. The bike avoids bull horns, and protruding nails from carts, the wrath of fighting dogs.
And through it all, a gentle soul you feel totally safe with, as you ride through what is called one of India’s most unsafe cities.
