Around 2.oo pm yesterday I fought off a well-deserved sleep to go and swim at the swimming pool beside the Ulsoor lake.

The sun is glorious in Bangalore these days, and one ought to go out in the afternoons more often.

In the Ulsoor swimming pool people are let in, in 1.00 hour batches. Of the one hour, you swim for 35 minutes ( a bell goes off) and the rest of the time is used by the security guards and the pool employees in coercing all the swimmers out of the pool.

I reached there around 2.20, in time for the 2.30 batch. There was a huge queue of kids waiting in line for the ticket. I should have known. The pool would be crowded on a Saturday afternoon, when all schools are closed. Generally, in a swimming pool 80% of the water is used by 20% of the swimmers. I am referring to the "deep" and "shallow" sides of a pool. I belong to the 20%, and so I had some hope. But looking at those, sun-darkened, fiddle-fit kids, I wondered if the 80-20 rule would apply.

For a moment I thought of ditching the whole thing and coming on Sunday morning. But then I had already got a parking ticket for the bike, and had come with so much preparation besides. I decided to take the plunge, so to speak.

The Ulsoor pool is 50 metres I think, and it slopes pretty rapidly from the shallow to the deep. Swimming in the very deep is not allowed in the afternoons, I learned sadly. But the semi-deep section was open and I was happy to see only two or three swimmers in it.

Swimming in the bright sun and swimming in the rain are among the few pleasures known to man. Every time you turn your neck to breath in, you see the sun there, beaming down cheerfully like an elder brother, egging you on, your steady companion. You smile back and go in again. (Too much poetry uh?)

The changing rooms at the Ulsoor swimming pools are only for the ladies. One changes in the open with one's towel for cover. This fact added to the unfortunate cirumstance that the 'nada' of my swimming trunks had got stuck, made me ditch the idea of changing out of my swimming trunks. I just pulled my shorts over my swimming trunks and set out.

As I un-parked my bike the possiblity of my wet-trunks soaking my shorts occured to me.

Hmm. Too late now. Besides, if I kept sitting on the bike the wet backside wouldn't show. I would have to be careful when I parked my bike at home, though. But then again, if someone did see me, perhaps they could be beguiled into believing that I had taken a shower in my clothes and had gone off on my bike to dry up.

For, I am sure, whatever 'Bajaj Wind' can do 'Yamaha RX135' can do better. (More google hits. he he he. Am I good at this!)

An unfortunate thing happened. In a narrow, busy, street close to my house, I had a skirmish with an Ambassador car. The fault was his entirely. So I promptly stopped the bike and got off to indignantly examine the damage to the bike as I had seen countless carsmen do on the road. There was no damage to the bike that I could see and the Ambassador-walla had stopped and looked suitably apologetic. But I noticed that a couple of shopkeepers had begun giggling and snickering. I quickly realized that this was at my expense. I got on the bike, started it, and released the clutch something terrible.

I got home without further adventure.