The events in this story happened with my uncle but almost every time I hear it, it makes me dwell into a state of paranoia since I happened to feel a part of it.
In 2012, shortly after his marriage my uncle was gifted a fabulous PULSAR 200NS by one of his friend. He was an avid biker who always took my aunt for a ride in his free time. But the good times with the bike were short lived as one day while going for a night out with my aunt on the bike, he was required to cross a short bridge, but midway on the bridge as per his account the bike started acting on its own and happened to hit a pothole hard enough to injure him and my aunt.
My aunt got minor injuries fortunately, but my uncle wasn't so lucky as he had a dozen of stitches done, small pebbles had pierced through his hands and legs, and he was in quite a gruesome state, so he was hospitalized subsequently.
The bike got a little bit damaged but no one suspected something was wrong with it. Even my uncle doubted his skills at once, even though he knew the bike had acted on its own and rather than stopping when brakes used it accelerated instead.
The bike having been repaired was kept at the garage of his close family friend who took the responsibility of its care.
Shortly after a little recovery one of his friend who was in dire need of a bike as he had to attend an important wedding, approached my uncle for help. Despite my uncle's warnings about the problems in the bike his friend ignored it, my uncle told him to just go to someone else as he might regret taking the PULSAR 200NS. He later had broken in to the garage to take it leaving behind an apology note with the promise of returning the bike shortly.
After nearly three days, my uncle got the news that his friend died in a bike accident the night he was returning from the wedding along with a friend who sat on the backseat, they were crossing a bushy area and both of them were sober enough to understand that exceeding the speed limit was not an option, but just midway through the journey as they came across a sharp turn the bike as per the accounts of the friend on the back seat who was alive, but was fatally injured, started acting crazy and just got accelerated to way above the speed limit and collided with a barrier across the road. Uncle's friend on the driving seat died on spot having his head collided against a metallic pillar just beside the barrier. Had he been a few inches to the left or right he could have survived, his friend told, as if it was an deliberately done act.
After this my uncle got paranoid and told his family friend to just destroy the bike into pieces and dispose it somewhere.
A lot of religious ceremonies were held at his house to eliminate any bad omen or negativity and it took him a while to come out of this phase.
I once happened to visit him with my family at his house during the summer vacations at my school and he took me to a ride on that very same bike. It was a nice ride as I remember but the amount of petrol burned stunned us as its tank was completely filled before the ride but just after travelling 3 to 4 kilometers it's tank was nearly empty.
I don't know why but we shrugged it off at that time as tons of work going on in his house for some auspicious occasion. Thinking about it now I don't know if the petrol had leaked or there was something really bad going on with the bike.
It was a brand new model back then and I don't know what happened to it after these incidents whether it was disposed or sold, but as I got older the sinister thought that the bike was cursed always comes to my mind whenever I recall this event.
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