Childhood’s End

As a person who’s constantly in touch with her inner child, I am down with acute nostalgia and an overdose of reality with the removal of the last and most symbolic object of my childhood and teenage years – My blue cycle – Chetak.

She has been sent away to my pre-teen cousin in my native, for a new set of memories and feelings to be forged in. Apparently, I am too old to have my cycle (which I no longer use, but that is not the point).

Chetak belonged to an ancient family of the BSA SLRs, she is the last of her breed. In this age of her flashier, swankier and sleek cousins, she still remains a steady and unbreakable bicycle-an exhibit that in the days of yore, Indians built objects that did not bend, break, wither and die.

Even in the time when I wore pigtails,(back in 487857 BC) there was no other to match her uniqueness and antiquity. So most times I would not even bother to lock her at all. If at all any stranger were to accost her, that person would be more prone to leave a small and personal donation to the impoverished owner of such an excuse for a cycle rather than attempt to take her. That is what I call maximum security and peace of mind, also, the occasional money I found near her got me plenty of eatables. After all I belonged to parents who felt pocket money is something they keep in their pockets and let you peek at, occasionally, if you’ve been a good girl…

Chetak was named after the faithful horse of Rana Pratap, and I belonged to Pratap house when I got her. So you do the math. If it helps, Rana’s horse was so dark, it was thought to be of blue color.
I don’t know if I can compare to the Rajput King, but my cycle lived up to her name in a million ways. Can’t bring me another cycle that transported me across vast distances across water, sand, gravel and despite punctures, air leaks, flat tyres, rust and every other malady that could strike her species.

She had this distinct sound that cleared traffic in front of me and announced to my teachers, taking roll-calls inside and in the 3rd floor of my school premises, that I was pedaling down the turn, half a block away from the entrance.

Her load bearing capacity reached world renown as foreign tourists used to gape at the sight of a pudgy teenager, her bulky bag and even bulkier lunch bag cycling away with a plump child sitting behind with a plump bag and an even more plump lunch basket.

Once a physicist in a tourist group sat down to find out the mysterious forces that actually let Chetak make any forward movement at all, with the given conditions of gravitation and the mass and weight of the objects and people perched on her surfaces of contact. He sidetracked into the equation for the Improbability drive and was suddenly never heard from again…unless you are ready to take words of 3 headed squiggly eyed green guys from Tricylon 3 who say they know him.


So by now it would be established that my cycle was a symbol of my freedom and my spirit of exploration and adventure. She completed me.

Even when my sister was given a gorgeous StreetCat, and I was given an option to trade in Chetak for a newer bicycle, I chose to keep her and that was a very wise thing as I see it now. For one thing my sister’s cycle was stolen in a month and she was never given any replacement as punishment and secondly, because it shows to me that at my teenage, when most people are attracted to pretty things I was loyal to my unglamorous and ugly antique cycle.

My cycle and me have had a lovely run for 11 years and it’s been a blast. I will definitely miss the sight of her as I come into my house everyday, but I will let go.
Her time to move on has come.

Chetak left to Thanjavur today, to go to the not-so-welcoming arms of my cousin, who really does want a ‘Ladybird’ instead (the author starts to itch with an allergic reaction to anything so artificially cute). Maybe Chetak’s company will teach little cous that for the rewarding and memorable relationships – one has to see far beyond the shiny exterior. And I do hope she does not implement her plan to re-christen the cycle as ‘Pinky Sweety’, after the much maligned neighborhood dog.

Au revoir, Chetak and Godspeed.

Blue without you,
Rain

PS: Good Luck and Godspeed Vinoo, your childhood has ended too. Prove your might in the land of Stars and Stripes and don’t let them change your lovely self one-inch.

PS v1.0: Q: What is with most of objects of my affection leaving me?
Ans: Welcome to life, the dummies guide to dealing with loss; and still smiling…