Cyclewala (The Cyclist) – I

“What’s up for me?”

This brings the biggest confusion in one’s life. And with the onus of leading this conversation, he decided to paddle and talk throughout the corners of the city he once embraced.

It wasn’t much of dusk when the sun seemed weighing down and all he conversed with himself was nothing. He probably found the city exploration much tempting than having a boring exchange of blames with himself. He grasped a sight of girls shimmering with emeralds on their neck, kneeling on the doors of the temple praying to God for everything they had, escapingly shuttering their eyes to excuse themselves for a while and expectably getting themselves showered with more love, more beauty, and more happiness.

” Go home, you! “, he grasped to himself sensing greed in the hearts of those ladies. And then he sought himself a question which made him think his sight even once. ” What’s up for me? If these Yankees have immense greed, what’s up with me? I too have greed and maybe that’s how life is. Many people would long for having a bicycle like mine or maybe good health. It is not bad at all! “.

He had the immense observative capability and more of it, he had the chance to interpret his observance in the course of life. Many times he would just explore the city he thrived in, coming back home is the same man he was when he first paddled. Cycling was an exercise, not a psychological therapy, he coined. But this time he giggled as he was challenged by life to interpret her meaning.

“Many times we wander searching for things that don’t exist. We paddle because we want to reach somewhere. That somewhere is sometimes nowhere. But that is not a problem. The problem is when a dive into nothing, feel depressed and in the quest of accumulating nothingness, we lose everything we had. The trust is broken, the chain is broken and the lust of reaching somewhere breaks just as the bicycle goes straight into a gutter. In the course of finding a new life and openly declaring war with ourselves, we lead to dead end…”, an excessively loud horn interrupted his paddling and he banked to the favorable side of the road.

” Phew, that was close!”, he had the glance of a large 18-tier truck chasing the bicycle’s carrier as he was riding right in the middle of the road.

The wobble in his mind was teasingly uncommon to him. He never much cared if he was to lose something or to hope for better or to feel disgraced or expect from nothing he seemed to have. He was far away from his time for people of his age who were in their early professions. He was but searching for something else.

To be continued…

Author: Yetesh Sharma