The Bicycle
Inspired by a father
It truly had a look of an equipment that belonged in a farm. Dirty,
dusty, worn out. It's tires were bald and the tube patched up all over
to seal numerous punctures- cause of frequent inconvenience. Silver
plated rims and spokes of the wheels had lost their luster years ago.
The frame was never repainted to give it a fresh look.The model and make
logo, so proudly affixed at the strategic front and back by the
manufacturer was illegible. It was impossible to read the year it was
made in. A plastic basket was attached to the front handle. It's
original color was not recognizable. The back fender was fitted with a
goods or passenger carrier that wobbled. The seat was cushion less. It
perhaps was the oldest bicycle in the town.
The last mile to
our farm was deeply rutted, narrow dirt lane flanked by bushes and
tress. A rough ride even for a newer bike. The front and back fenders
would rattle constantly. The chain covered with grease and dirt would
some times come off the big toothed wheel. The bell on its handle did
not ring, casualty of the vibrations caused by the rutted path. Sweet
sound of the ring was replaced by the shrill of whistles or soft holler
when necessary. The dynamo fitted on the back wheel was no longer
reliable to light up the path. Fortunately, the brakes were still
working.
Everyday, early in the morning, before we had hardly
opened our eyes, our father would tuck his loose white shirt in to khaki
short and ride that bike two and half miles to our farm. Sweating in
the hot sun or dripping wet in the rain, he would labor hard the whole
day on that land. Then at the setting of the sun behind silver gray
clouds in the western skies, he would pedal back home carrying milk and
load of farm produce on his bicycle. Even after a dinner, his work would
continue. He would update the accounts in the books of the family
business minded by his younger brother. It would be close to midnight
before he turned in to the bed.
He would break this routine only
to attend the family emergencies. I caused such break once. Playing
Cricket as a senior on the high school team, I twisted my ankle badly.
it was swollen and quite painful. Unable to carry my own body weight on
it I had to stay away from the school for couple of days for healing.
On my return to school I was advised to use crutches. I tried them but
did not have upper body strength to use them effectively. I felt very
awkward and uncomfortable with them. So, he offered to drop me at the
school carrying me on the back carrier of his bicycle till I get back on
my feet. "No" was my instant response. I was horrified by the idea.
I was ashamed of his bike and his work clothes. I did not want to be
seen with him or his bike. None of my classmate's dad rode such ugly and
unsightly bike. They wore traditional attire suitable to their business
with gold buttons and cuff links. White shirt made of coarse material
tucked in to Khaki shorts? I thought it was so gross and embarrassing.
I just could not come to the understanding why he had to be such a
penny pincher and stingy ! It was not that we were poor. I had a sister
and brothers who had gone away to the college. They had lived in the
dorms through their college years. And he had paid for all their
expenses in full.
"I will drop you a block away from your school a
little early before the bell. That would give you a head start to walk
on the crutches prior to the arrival of other kids." He modified his
offer of help without seeking any explanation for my rudeness.
The rest of the final year was uneventful except I began applying for
the colleges of my choice. To everyone's pride and joy I got accepted at
my favorite technological school.
Unfortunately, the dorm was
four miles away from the faculty of engineering and Technology. I began
to research the bus routes and schedules that would correspond with my
classes. I knew it will be inconvenient without personal transportation.
But thought that school was worth little inconvenience If I can manage
my time efficiently.
Finally, that day to leave the comforts and
security of home arrived. Another boy from the family was heading to
the college. As usual, my younger sisters were very happy, my mother
misty and father as stoic as ever. Engulfed in the bitter sweet moments
of the occasion, we anxiously awaited the arrival of the taxi.
It rolled in the front of our home just in time. Tied behind it was a
brand new bicycle. It's body was shining. It's rims and spokes were
sparkling over fully treaded tires. It was the best brand available in
the market at the time. I looked at my father. Could not stop tears of
joy that welled up in my eyes. I hugged him as tightly as I could. "Be
good and do well in the the college" his soft voice echoed in to my
ears.
This February 2, It will be 25 years since your passing father! Pranam, Namaste. We miss you. Miss you dearly!
I know he is keeping you busy up there too. And we know you are watching us from up there as always. I see you everyday too:
Riding that junky bicycle in your khaki short and white shirt.
-Bharat Shah
