Looking at his sagged, burgundy laden scooter, Mr.Subramaniam sets out on his regular office routine. Dressed in a formal white-striped shirt on a light-grey hazed bell-bottomed brazed trousers, he silently pulls out the scooter of the parking lot to wake it up for the hectic schedule. A shiny old helmet tops his attire with a lunchbox attached to the scooter's handlebar to signify the long day.

Meanwhile as the day begins, Bangalore's roads get nastier. Vehicles break signals, run over the footpaths and honk excessively to just be an inch ahead of the rest. Slow moving ones are always cursed, two-wheelers scolding four-wheelers for the narrow road space being occupied and the policemen struggling hard to catch rule-breakers. Mr.Subramaniam is aware of his daily experience with this three-decade old scooter which, till date hasn't broken down even once in it's service.

The scooter was bought when Mr.Subramaniam was fed up of the harsh realities of walking everyday to work or finding a bus, rare in those days to catch when he began service in a government office as an accountant. He had taken help from all his friends to realize his own private vehicle. Priced hard during those days, it was a trending piece in the market and was featured in all newspapers. Eventually, the pride of owning turned into love for the thing.

Seeing his new generation in cars and fancy bikes, Mr.Subramaniam is ignorant. His own children are now self-worthy to buy their own vehicles and insist they upgrade his vehicle. But he is unperturbed with his pride, aware of that longing bond that might break. In his last few years of service left, he wants it to fulfill his dream - of travelling together in toiling times.

Kick starting his pride, Mr.Subramaniam sits on the spring suspended seat to begin his day. A puff of smoke clears the engine, ready to run. Turning right, the scooter encounters various potholes, sand, people and finally stops at a signal. On green, Mr.Subramaniam panics to find fellow motorists shouting on him for being slow and "blocking the way". But he silently swallows them all and continues. A steep curve is ahead to which Mr.Subramaniam sulks for his pride to put in extra work and then lowers the gear. The scooter moves slower, this time, those over-speeding bikes staring into the scooter and frowning for the tortoise that ran beside.

With all the scuffles, he reaches office, sips tea, shouts on the peon for giving more work. Working all day over and getting late for home, then begins the journey back. This time, the story repeating in the reverse direction.