I did not understand why I was thinking about bicycles ever since I got down from my office bus. Not until I entered my aerobics class and saw a number of bikes neatly lined up on the polished wooden floor, did I suspect that it was a premonition of sorts. I took a look at the sophisticated spin bikes and I couldn’t help noticing that some of them were the same colour as my first ever bike.
It was a third hand bike, given to me because my cousin brother had grown too tall for it. He was getting a brand new blue colour bike and the old and small blackish orange bike was given to me. I was in 3rd standard then and it was the happiest moment of my life thus far.
I took half a day to learn how to ride and the next day I took off with my brother on my bike. I was delighted to find out that I could take all the turns as well as he did until I fell right into the gutter. The gutter was old fashioned and was made of hard stones. I hit the gutter on my knees and when I got up I saw that both my knees were bleeding. My brother must have got frightened by what he saw because he made me promise many times that I will not tell my parents about my fall or my wounds. He assured me that he will help me clean my wounds and bandage them, and it will disappear in no time. The first stage of our secret little pact went on very well, and it would have succeeded but for the next door aunty who went off like the fire-alarm of HP, as soon as she saw us. I don’t blame her, anyone would have freaked out if they saw a little girl washing her bloody knees in tap water and applying copious amounts of talcum powder on it.
My brother used to show me new tricks everyday, that can be done on a bike and I happily copied them. Soon I had learnt to ride leaving both my hands, skid my bike after a sharp turn and many more tricks like that. I never really understood how he made the front wheels of his bike rise in air and stood easily on the back wheels for a few seconds, though. “You should ride your bike faster and jam the brakes harder”, he used to say. Luckily or unluckily it never worked for me.
The summer holidays were a rare treat coz me and a small group of my friends went cycling early in the morning. Soon we knew every galli in and around sanjayanagar, Dollars colony and UAS Layout as well as any of the boys. Though I enjoyed riding in all the three areas, my favourite was UAS Layout. To get into UAS layout we had to go through a rough mud path and enter a small mud road lined with trees on either side. At the end of the road, there was a layer of rock and we had to shepard our bikes on to the other side. There was a poppy tree which always bore juicy fruits. We enjoyed eating the fruits from the tree and then taking off again on the wide tarred roads of UAS Layout lined with lush green trees. I used to ride my cycle so much that whenever I was introduced to any uncle or aunty in the area, they actually used to ask me if I was the “cycle hudugi” (cycle girl).
I was forced to apply sudden brakes to my cyclic memories when the instructor called us.
We were told to choose a “STATIONARY” spin bike. The instructor switched off the lights and turned on the disco lights. It was a pleasant affect, gave the hallucination that we were all in a dark albeit colourfull room. Bright blue, green, red, yellow colours were dancing around us as we biked, though I couldn’t help noticing that the colours fell more on the persons next to me.
I was uncomfortable in the beginning. I felt that the bikes were either too short or too high for me. I was perennially afraid that I would fall off my bike and the relentless screaming of “faster, faster” in my ears did not help. I lost my footing as if it were a rule, every time I was asked to stand up or sit down. Soon I was stretching myself beyond my short arms would permit me in order to hold the farthest handle of the bike while I cycled. I was cycling with my legs and exercising with my arms while all this while I was supposed to find new avenues from the barred window reflected in the wall mirror in front of me. I was also wondering if my legs would allow me to walk back home after all the hard work.
After I finished the class I had a strange feeling that an hour of time I had spent there had cracked the chasm of reality for me. I felt that the spin biking class was connected to my present life as much as the battered bike was to my past life. A perfect simile of the past and the present. One jolly and carefree and other confused and stationary. I was complaining about how boring the class was when one of the girls remarked: " So what? It serves the purpose". I hope with all my heart it does in the long run, but at the same time I cant help feeling that my little third hand bike had served the purpose better.
It was a third hand bike, given to me because my cousin brother had grown too tall for it. He was getting a brand new blue colour bike and the old and small blackish orange bike was given to me. I was in 3rd standard then and it was the happiest moment of my life thus far.
I took half a day to learn how to ride and the next day I took off with my brother on my bike. I was delighted to find out that I could take all the turns as well as he did until I fell right into the gutter. The gutter was old fashioned and was made of hard stones. I hit the gutter on my knees and when I got up I saw that both my knees were bleeding. My brother must have got frightened by what he saw because he made me promise many times that I will not tell my parents about my fall or my wounds. He assured me that he will help me clean my wounds and bandage them, and it will disappear in no time. The first stage of our secret little pact went on very well, and it would have succeeded but for the next door aunty who went off like the fire-alarm of HP, as soon as she saw us. I don’t blame her, anyone would have freaked out if they saw a little girl washing her bloody knees in tap water and applying copious amounts of talcum powder on it.
My brother used to show me new tricks everyday, that can be done on a bike and I happily copied them. Soon I had learnt to ride leaving both my hands, skid my bike after a sharp turn and many more tricks like that. I never really understood how he made the front wheels of his bike rise in air and stood easily on the back wheels for a few seconds, though. “You should ride your bike faster and jam the brakes harder”, he used to say. Luckily or unluckily it never worked for me.
The summer holidays were a rare treat coz me and a small group of my friends went cycling early in the morning. Soon we knew every galli in and around sanjayanagar, Dollars colony and UAS Layout as well as any of the boys. Though I enjoyed riding in all the three areas, my favourite was UAS Layout. To get into UAS layout we had to go through a rough mud path and enter a small mud road lined with trees on either side. At the end of the road, there was a layer of rock and we had to shepard our bikes on to the other side. There was a poppy tree which always bore juicy fruits. We enjoyed eating the fruits from the tree and then taking off again on the wide tarred roads of UAS Layout lined with lush green trees. I used to ride my cycle so much that whenever I was introduced to any uncle or aunty in the area, they actually used to ask me if I was the “cycle hudugi” (cycle girl).
I was forced to apply sudden brakes to my cyclic memories when the instructor called us.
We were told to choose a “STATIONARY” spin bike. The instructor switched off the lights and turned on the disco lights. It was a pleasant affect, gave the hallucination that we were all in a dark albeit colourfull room. Bright blue, green, red, yellow colours were dancing around us as we biked, though I couldn’t help noticing that the colours fell more on the persons next to me.
I was uncomfortable in the beginning. I felt that the bikes were either too short or too high for me. I was perennially afraid that I would fall off my bike and the relentless screaming of “faster, faster” in my ears did not help. I lost my footing as if it were a rule, every time I was asked to stand up or sit down. Soon I was stretching myself beyond my short arms would permit me in order to hold the farthest handle of the bike while I cycled. I was cycling with my legs and exercising with my arms while all this while I was supposed to find new avenues from the barred window reflected in the wall mirror in front of me. I was also wondering if my legs would allow me to walk back home after all the hard work.
After I finished the class I had a strange feeling that an hour of time I had spent there had cracked the chasm of reality for me. I felt that the spin biking class was connected to my present life as much as the battered bike was to my past life. A perfect simile of the past and the present. One jolly and carefree and other confused and stationary. I was complaining about how boring the class was when one of the girls remarked: " So what? It serves the purpose". I hope with all my heart it does in the long run, but at the same time I cant help feeling that my little third hand bike had served the purpose better.
