The Bicycle

         The T-Wave that struck the city recently left no part of the social life untouched. Auto’s, the only mode of transport back and forth to office, went on strike, the other day. Some way I managed to reach office. Going back was now the challenge I had to face.

            I set out. Walked past the main gate, and was aghast to see not a single vehicle to take a ride on. Couple of calls I made to enquire the cause for the horrific state. Waited for a while and seeing no light of hope, I let me legs do the job.

            People of the same profession are sympathetic to their fellow mates, and to exploit a lift under such circumstances is easy. But that hour in the day saw not many coming off their duties and there was not much movement on the road. The few, who came, were already booked with fellow riders and I was left with no option but to walk my way back to the junction from where I could manage to get a city bus.

            I walked… though the junction looked to be at farther end of the world cause of the tiredness clouding the body and soul, I walked. And after a few steps I heard a bell ring of a bicycle. Surprised I was, for, on this path I walked, a bicycle was least expected.

            I turned to see who that gentle man was, that dared move around on a bicycle. The surprised was levitated as I found that the rider was a little boy, of 10 or 12. He could barely touch both the pedals at a time. And he made a herculean effort to ride the bicycle over the elevated road.

            A boy, of 10 or 12. With curly untidy hair. The dress he wore was on the verge of being torn. Most part of it was dirty, little that was neat, had cloth patches used to cover up the torn part .the feet had cracks, evidently because of the chemicals the cement has. Paint like white shade covered all of the visible skin and most part of his dress. A boy of 10 or 12.

            A ray of hope, I realized, on a path which saw no vehicle for 15 minutes. But with the attire I possessed, would I take a ride? , pondering thus,

“Could you give a ride?” I requested the boy who kept pedaling as he moved past me. He stared at me as though I made an unpardonable crime by intervening into his world of joyousness he made out of the bicycling.

He stopped after couple of steps. Possibly for the innocent face I put up, or at the attire I wore.

“Sit”, the boy commanded.

“You sit, I’ll ride”, I insisted as I caught hold of the handle.

“Nop, I will ride!” the boy never left the handle go out of his grip.

“No, you will not be able to! let me ride”, I replied at the innocence of the boy. ”you are just a little kid”, I tried bullying.

And he handed his vehicle to me. We set off, once I made him sit on cross bar…..

“Where do you work?” I questioned out of curiosity.

“Back at the construction “, he replied, “my mother, father, and uncle work “, he continued, mostly, enthusiastically.

“No school?” I asked. I could see his face turn to an expression we call frown.

“T-Band – !”, he said.

“Hmm…. Where are you going then? “,

“To get a cigarette packet!” the boy replied, “to the junction!”

“You smoke? “, I teased.

“Noooooooo… for my father, mother. Uncle and their friend!” he smiled as he replied.

“Don’t they know it’s harmful” I questioned to see what he would say. He nodded as an answer and smiled.

            My muscles were stressed at the effort I put up. It was ages that I rode a cycle. Ages it has been that I even touched one. Or well... the truth is that the body has accustomed itself for a stress free life. It’s the mind that is stressed out in the kind of work I do. The body, it’s at resting state most of the times. And for a sudden motion from stand still, after effects are deemed to follow.

“What work u do..?” I asked him breaking the silence which lasted for a while.

“I carry brinks to the top and empty cement trays to bottom”, he replied. “And I water the walls when all bricks are over!”

“And what are you paid.”

“My father knows it!” he said. ”he buys me a rubber ball and couple of chocolates now and then.”

“He promised that he will buy a dress this Sunday. But there was no work for two days. So he doesn’t have money now.”

            There was no work for two days. I remembered the T-Band and yet another national band called by the opposition condemning the price hike.

“We dint even had breakfast today”, the boy interrupted my flow of thoughts.

“Mother said, we have to save some grains for couple of days, there could be more bands soon.” the boy concluded.

            Save the daily wages the family gets, they seem not to have any regular source of income. And the price hike and agitations add to their misery.

We neared the junction and my thoughts were filled with vacuum as I peddled.

There was misery, suffering all around.  Question was “who is responsible?”

“wanna eat something ?” , I asked the boy out of concern. Long days work it must have been.

“May be a cup of tea? “, I re-questioned after he nodded.

            He took the control of the cycle back as soon as I got down. And before I could even make an attempt to offer him something, gone he was……….