Prologue:

Let’s face it, a casual glance at Rustique and anyone would be convinced that she’s some mix-breed pariah who’s spent more time in the gutter than breathing in the clean air. But then again, can’t really fault them for being ignorant, can i?

The thing is Rustique and me go back a long way. In-fact, we go back to the time when she’d just been wheeled out of the showroom – by someone else!!! Back in those days, it was a scrawny looking college kid who was only just becoming aware of a world beyond shorts, slippers and gully cricket.

One evening, there was a buzz, rather a snarl in the air. Eyes and ears straining, i still couldn’t tell where the symphony was coming from, but hear i could! When the fog finally cleared out, a matte green beauty was standing before me.

Today, when i think about that evening, i realize that the bike in question was totally butchered. But it did sow the seeds of an addiction that continues till date.