The Vicious Bicycle
"Hero Ranger? Nahin hai Miyan. "abhi abhi ek potta usko lekar gaya, ek ghante se laake dega" muttered Aslam, the owner of Aziz Cycle Taxi. Disappointed, I had no option but wait. Else, I had to stay contended either with an Atlas Goldline Super or an ugly Green bicycle with a big seat that I always hated.As a kid from the 3rd standard, I used to hop across the street, cross the road and head straight into the cycle Taxi to rent a cycle at 1 Rupee an hour. I consider this as a historic milestone of my life. Arguably, it is! It's the time when you put your feet on the pedals, maintain the balance, or even boast before your friends that you have grown taller. Because now, your feet touch the ground while the bum is on cycle seat!
I remember the first time I fell off the bicycle. It was when I spotted a bullock cart in the distance. As a panicked beginner, I pulled the front brake only to find myself thrown on a sand at the side of the road. The Cart man looked at me like a cow that looks up once while grazing on the meadows while chewing the cud.
In the early 90s, the bicycle ADs on television fascinated me. My eyes drooled over brands like Roadmaster, Hercules and BMX. I wanted to ask my dad to buy me a Bicycle from his Military Canteen as they are sold at cheaper price. However, an egoistic kid even then, I refrained to ask my whim. But my mouth continued to water - when someone purchased a new bicycle, when a new model was introduced in the market and also when I passed by those row of cycle shops off MG Road in Secunderabad. And when RGV made SHIVA, the cycle chain was already making raves within me! The sheer power of cycle and its parts, became an important chapter in my life.
One day while coming home from school, I met my maid who smiled and asked me to distribute sweets tomorrow. I was puzzled. Before I could ask her the straight dope, she went away and I tottered home swinging my Milton Water bottle wondering what could be the reason for sweets! I reached home only to find a Red color BSA SLR parked in the drawing room. My joy grew no bounds and I also realized that this was my reward for scoring 80% in my final examination. And the day I took it to school, I could hear murmurs like - This guy has a BSA!
Those were the days when the cycle bell commanded some respect. It was heard in my colony. Especially on Sundays and holidays when each one of us assembled brilliantly to form a kind of union in my colony playground. It looked like one "Bicycle Swayamwar". Cycles were of all shapes and sizes and so were its owners! There was this guy who also had gears fitted in his cycle. He was the kind of Hatke bandha to us then. One of them had a BSA Mongoose, a hunky dory cycle known for its crafty design and merged chain cum break option. Another boy used to get a large Atlas cycle belonging to the Naukar at his shop. It had a huge carrier and this earned him the nickname " Rickshaw" One of my friend had a Hero Hansa- Lady bicycle and I don't want to tell you how we teased him!
Because most of the boys (who later went on to become my friends) were remembered by the brand of cycle they processed.
Over the years, my bicycle developed frequent breakdowns and gradually it had its mechanical flaws. And with the maintenance expenses shooting up, one day I decided to abandon it. I left it unattended and it looked like a wounded soldier waiting to be nursed. It was also the time when the transition from bicycles to mini mopeds took place in India. Bajaj Sunny had arrived. The bicycle generation holocaust became evident. Years later, my Dad donated my bicycle to someone and then I had never felt an emotional nerve moving in me. It was also never a case of Good Riddance to Bad Rubbish Its just that I was unable to stand up and justify the need for its repair. So I thought perhaps donation was a better option. Not just me , most of you who had a bicycle during your childhood know the fate of it. They are always judiciously donated either to the cook, or the gardener or the mason and the like.
My Bicycle had taught me the Balancing Act in life. And today, this is my way of tribute to it!
© All rights reserved with Abhishek Naini. No form of this may be reproduced without prior permission from the author.
I remember the first time I fell off the bicycle. It was when I spotted a bullock cart in the distance. As a panicked beginner, I pulled the front brake only to find myself thrown on a sand at the side of the road. The Cart man looked at me like a cow that looks up once while grazing on the meadows while chewing the cud.
In the early 90s, the bicycle ADs on television fascinated me. My eyes drooled over brands like Roadmaster, Hercules and BMX. I wanted to ask my dad to buy me a Bicycle from his Military Canteen as they are sold at cheaper price. However, an egoistic kid even then, I refrained to ask my whim. But my mouth continued to water - when someone purchased a new bicycle, when a new model was introduced in the market and also when I passed by those row of cycle shops off MG Road in Secunderabad. And when RGV made SHIVA, the cycle chain was already making raves within me! The sheer power of cycle and its parts, became an important chapter in my life.
One day while coming home from school, I met my maid who smiled and asked me to distribute sweets tomorrow. I was puzzled. Before I could ask her the straight dope, she went away and I tottered home swinging my Milton Water bottle wondering what could be the reason for sweets! I reached home only to find a Red color BSA SLR parked in the drawing room. My joy grew no bounds and I also realized that this was my reward for scoring 80% in my final examination. And the day I took it to school, I could hear murmurs like - This guy has a BSA!
Those were the days when the cycle bell commanded some respect. It was heard in my colony. Especially on Sundays and holidays when each one of us assembled brilliantly to form a kind of union in my colony playground. It looked like one "Bicycle Swayamwar". Cycles were of all shapes and sizes and so were its owners! There was this guy who also had gears fitted in his cycle. He was the kind of Hatke bandha to us then. One of them had a BSA Mongoose, a hunky dory cycle known for its crafty design and merged chain cum break option. Another boy used to get a large Atlas cycle belonging to the Naukar at his shop. It had a huge carrier and this earned him the nickname " Rickshaw" One of my friend had a Hero Hansa- Lady bicycle and I don't want to tell you how we teased him!
Because most of the boys (who later went on to become my friends) were remembered by the brand of cycle they processed.
Over the years, my bicycle developed frequent breakdowns and gradually it had its mechanical flaws. And with the maintenance expenses shooting up, one day I decided to abandon it. I left it unattended and it looked like a wounded soldier waiting to be nursed. It was also the time when the transition from bicycles to mini mopeds took place in India. Bajaj Sunny had arrived. The bicycle generation holocaust became evident. Years later, my Dad donated my bicycle to someone and then I had never felt an emotional nerve moving in me. It was also never a case of Good Riddance to Bad Rubbish Its just that I was unable to stand up and justify the need for its repair. So I thought perhaps donation was a better option. Not just me , most of you who had a bicycle during your childhood know the fate of it. They are always judiciously donated either to the cook, or the gardener or the mason and the like.
My Bicycle had taught me the Balancing Act in life. And today, this is my way of tribute to it!
© All rights reserved with Abhishek Naini. No form of this may be reproduced without prior permission from the author.
