Tales Of My Rides

Bicycle can be a thoroughly ridiculous form of transport, but a thoroughly beautiful one.

Handle, Paddle, Paddling, Deep Breathing, Air, More Air, Woshhh....

[Music]

Five months ago I started paddling my bicycle in the evening through the farms, the habit I have maintained till today. I usually paddle from a point A which generally is the southernmost edge of the village to a point B which lies right on the bridge of the main canal known by the name Ramala wali Nahar via a road which goes along the smaller canal, khaansh. I generally stop at point C. Point C is a place somewhere between point A and point B, I stop there to observe Bainya’s nests hanging upright down on a tree. While riding, I generally think about a point D. Point D is nothing in particular, but an imaginary place, somewhere between infinity to minus infinity in the universe (I do not care if it happens to be out of universe) which I generally visualized - setting sun, solitary atmosphere, tall laconic palm trees and a vast blue ocean (it must be blue, neither red nor black); I don’t know why blue - I just like blue, particularly electric blue. Spending a solitary and pleasant time sitting on a circular sofa upholstered in royal red cloth, reading book while relaxing both my arms over the sofa and watching the setting sun drowning in the ocean turning the color of whole ocean from my favourite blue to red.

Or, I think of a point E which is quite opposite of point D, but like Point D Point E too is a hypothetical point although on earth and as bad as hell like a slum where I visualize me in some drudgery - factory worker, daily labourer or garbage collector - thereby earning little, eating little, speaking very little, sometimes fighting and beaten very harshly in the process; getting beaten up is the most important part which I thoroughly imagine.

HOLY CRAP! CHEAP ADOLESCENT FANTASY! (Well, practically I am no longer an adolescent.)

Yes, this is how I am squaring the time between 5:30 pm and 6:00 pm - riding ridiculously between point A and point B passing point C, and imagining point D and E - repeatedly just like a mathematical algorithm iterated infinite number of times. But, it is not that un-beautiful as it sounds or seems (whatever), in fact, it is way more interesting than the rest of the day. It is just the introduction of all the adventures (worry not they are few) of my bicycle ride, you know what I mean.

The most important thing in my bicycle ride other than bicycling is the Sun. I kind of love watching setting sun. Although, I had read somewhere that good mood people love to watch rising sun while people with sad mood love to watch setting sun. Is that true? Ahh…Maybe. Maybe not. It is hard to tell, especially for me, because I haven’t seen a rising sun in a long time. So better to leave this topic here.

Everyday, as I headed to my nest after cycling for half and hour drenched in sweat, still cycling under the dynamic red gradient coloured sky. I saw that panoramic view, I called it “Forest On Fire Scene”. It is there I feel like somehow Nature is still the best original creator and humans are nothing but just illusionist. The tall eucalyptus trees along the sides of road and the red coloured horizon, because of setting sun, behind them can easily deceive anyone of the blazing forest. The scene feels adorable, charming, marvellous and cosmic. This is the beauty or say the force of that scene that I somehow feel refrain, extremely refrained that I love to paddle my bicycle as slow as possible.

As I reached home the sky already turned to purple; the first few stars have appeared, suddenly, as if someone had thrown a handful of silver across the edge of the world. And the moon always looks like the chief guest in the night party.

By the way, on seeing me sweating so hard like this my mother always asks me in kind of disappointed and suspicious voice, “How can someone sweat so hard by just cycling.”

I never answer her that question. I simply smiles, because I am the answer.

 

 

 

The month of September, rain was pouring from the sky now and then in installments. I, as always, was on my daily voyage - ready to boom with my black “Heavy Duty” Milton bicycle.

I have a rule or say opinion that cycling without speed is no fun. So, I always paddle my Milton as fast as I could until I feel that rush of air right on my face. To add more fun I, sometimes ride with no hands on handle; sometimes with no foot on the paddle; sometimes imitating as a professional cyclist (Of course I fail to do that). There is so much fun in cycling. I wonder why it isn’t yet the National Mode of Transportation of India. It must be. I think, I should file a plea for the same in Supreme Court.

So, rain had poured the pits in the road and I,as always, was riding with full speed. Thinking about place E. I passed that old man who is a Booking Clerk at a nearby railway station Budhpur. I greeted him Namaste. I always greet him Namaste; I hope sometime he will give me train tickets for free as, say, gratitude. I just hope, OK. Once a while he had asked me to lend a help when I was busy with my Milton trying to chain it back. It is after that day I started greeting him Namaste or Ram Ram, whatever hit to traveling conscience at that time. Nevertheless, we are kind of familiar to each other now.

As I passed him just then I saw tremendous lightening to my left followed by a frightening thunder as if some war had just declared. I stopped the sprinting wheels of my Milton to saw closely what what exactly had just happened.

In the west, I saw the setting hot red sun and some clouds huddled around it - black and huge, seems like in anger. They were like Ragnarok. But the scene was aesthetic, divine, and spectacular. It was like Ragnarok fighting with the last pieces of light before enslaving the whole world with a complete darkness. But, the sun like an ancient warrior was fighting with valour even if the victory was nowhere to him. He is the hero; he is the Great Hercules. In spite of all the efforts, the clouds - The Ragnarok - dethroned the Sun from the azure sky.

Is that over for sun, I thought. Just then a lighting sparked followed by the thundering sound; the swords were buzzing. A hole opened around the clustered clouds and a ray of light came out tearing it apart. The answer was - No; it wasn’t over yet. The clashing thunder told it; the sparkling rays coming out of hole told it; the lightening told it and so my heart.

But eventually, the Sun was defeated even though he keep on fighting like the Great Hercules; he fought to his last breathe. Because it is how a warrior should be - Undefeatable and Unstoppable, even if they are crushed to their soul.

In a matter of time, it was all clouds kingdom. I hurried to home, but was caught by the rain in the way. The Rain of sorrow or of joy.

 

OK, this is it for that blog. I am leaving you with a short of poem I had written. It’s a kind of trash, but I want to show you anyway.

 

Make the sky bluer, bluer than before.

Make my bicycle ride airier, airier than before.

Make my thoughts wander, wander more than before.

Make the Sun shine, shine more than before.

Because it all make me happier, happier than before.

O God, thank you for the azure sky, the shiny sun, the rainy clouds, the oozing air, and these airy bicycle rides.

Make the sky bluer, bluer than before.

Make my bicycle ride airier, airier than before.

O God, My God, thank you, thank you for everything.