KARMA RIDERS I could see Vishu’s pensive expression from across the river. He gave me a thumbs up in an un-convincing vote of confidence and followed it with an exaggerated wave. I didn’t know if he was more concerned with me or the rickety old suspension bridge between us. I wouldn’t have been hesitant to proceed had his crossing not been so unnerving to watch. Even for a skilled rider I wouldn’t say he nailed it. As I placed my front tire on the first wooden slat, a strong gust of wind blasted the side of the bridge. It swayed erratically. Unlike the other footbridges we encountered, this one didn’t have heavy chain-link guardrails, only thin wire mesh panels loosely fixed to wooden planks. They wouldn’t do much to keep a Royal Enfield Bullet from plunging into the swirling rapids below.