The Cycle

Ramesh was becoming restless. It was almost 4 15 pm and still his mother was preparing the food. “Amma, I will have extra milk before going to bed” he was pleading. “No kanna, only 5 more minutes”, she tried to convince. Ramesh knew that his chance of batting today was diminishing by the minute and he was helpless. He was 8 years old and was slowly realizing the benefit of not protesting too much. Just as he was about the start his shrilling screech, his mom emerged from the kitchen with hot bakodas and coffee. Without much fuss he ate and left the house in a jiff in his cycle.

Though he was very happy to have a cycle, it was an old one passed on from his brother.  He had always wanted his own new cycle. As he cycled ferociously to the cricket ground, all the boys were huddled around something. Ramesh fought through the crowd to see what had created the commotion. In the center, was a new beaming cycle! It had a smooth texture; the shine and the smell of new metal were weakening the minds of all the guys around. Next to it stood Rahul, with a glint in his eyes and a smile in which all the 28 teeth of his was visible. It was his second bike. The boys were trying out the new bell which bettered the sound of a Mozart’s symphony. Many were queuing up to ride the new bike.

 It was particularly painful for Ramesh. He had agreed to reuse most of his brother’s old stuff, but had always asked for a new cycle. It was a matter of pride as cycle racing was a big thing among the kids and when was asked to take his brothers cycle, he was quite disheartened. But seeing one of your rivals getting something you carved for was the tipping point. That whole evening Ramesh was so disappointed that he did not care when he neither got a chance to bat or bowl in a cricket match. His mind was completely clouded by the image of the new cycle. To add fuel to his disappointment, Rahul was having a field day, scoring runs left right and center, as well taking wonderful catches.

As soon as the match was over he went home like a Zombie. He hated the cycle he was riding on. When he reached home his eyes were filled with tears. He shoved the cycle in the garden and went into the home. Angrily he went to take bath without talking to his mom and dad who were sitting in the living room.  The tantrums started during the dinner. He was stubborn and told his mom he would not eat anything. His mom was pleading him to have something and then his dad would arrange something. But he was adamant that until he gets a new cycle he would not eat anything. His mom was losing patience. “See he is not listening to me. Do something,” complained the mother.

“Ramesh, what is your problem?” his father patiently asked him.

A sobbing Ramesh slowly told his father about the greatest injustice committed to him. He father tried to reason out why buying a new cycle was not a good idea. But his was reasoning into deaf ears. Even extensive cajoling did not work. Finally giving in to the tantrums of Ramesh his father finally agreed to get him a new cycle the next day, much to the bewilderment of Ramesh’s mother. Finally ramesh had his dinner and went to sleep still agitated.

The next morning his father took his old cycle to his garage repainted it. To make it more attractive he added a horn of a discarded automobile and kept it ready for Ramesh.

Ramesh returned from school and was simply excited to see a shinning cycle and was particularly excited to see the horn. Unsurprisingly that evening he was the center of attraction in the playground also. Both Ramesh and his father were happy that evening.