Track sprinters want their fancy carbon frames and roadies dream of aero helmets — yaar, I fixed up a 1972 Hercules from the scrapyard with a new chain and tube patches from the bazaar. It wobbles like a drunk uncle but gets me to the ghat every Sunday, and that's more progress than any government scheme for cycle lanes we've been promised for ten years. All this horsepower talk, but show me one policy that actually helps the cycle-rikshaw wallah get a new tyre without paying double to the middleman.