My heart was as heavy as the clouds that kept creeping up all over the sky as I rode farther and farther along the road, and they all looked as if they could bring about a flood all by themselves. I’ve seen darker (may be as dark) clouds in kerala, during the rainy season and the rain was not novelty but this was different. I was riding MY bull, and that was a different feel all together. I had always dreamt of doing this but may be under different circumstances. But may be it was the mood that made it as enjoyable as it was.
I must have looked a sight on my unwashed bull all covered in dirt and mud and me in and me in an old pair of jeans and a much used khadhi kurta. The unshaven beard that is now as much part of me as anything else must have given me a menacing look along with everything else. I sort if enjoy that look now a days. Keeps unwanted conversation away. Life is never smooth for anyone. Things are never smooth enough for us, or comfortable enough, of cozy enough. But I don't feel that the triteness and plainness of life is what makes it worth enjoying. Many a times I have wondered why I wasn't as rich as many of the kids I know, who can get anything they want when they want it. As A kid I’d wanted many thing but never really got them all. I never got what I wanted, but got what I needed, and that I realize now is the important thing. If I’d got all I wanted when I was young I would have never enjoyed getting what I want now.
I wanted to have a bike when I was in college. It was just a want, and noting more solid. I knew my dad wouldn’t buy me one, and I thank him now for it. But it sometimes popped into my mind, how would it be like to have one, like many of the other kids around. Just zoom around and have fun on the bike. It was never more than a passing thought, may be sometimes the thought just stop over for a few seconds more, but it was just that.
Now I am working, earning, and I the first real thing that I bought myself was a bike. And that too A Royal Enfield. Bullet Electra. I cant ever express in words how much I love my bike, because it is the symbol of a lot of things. It is truly my own, and mine alone. And then I realized after that, how much I an indebted to my dad for never ever buying me a bike. I would have never enjoyed my bike or felt so proud of it if my dad had bought it for me. I’d have loved it as much. But I wouldn’t have felt so proud. I wouldn’t have felt so great every time I start my bike. I got the urge to keep my bike clean and sparkling form my dad. I love washing my bike. It may not be for the want of keeping it shining but more like a sort of bonding. One might be entirely justified in wondering what sort of bonding can happen to a bike, but I do find the experience bonding. And I feel proud of myself when I’m done. Not as much about the work I’ve done, as I feel about having a bike of my own to do the job on.
I’ve seen countless people riding around bikes with stickers proclaiming ‘mom’s gift’, ‘dad’s gift’ or ‘mom and dad’s gift’. But I say my parents gave me an even better gift by not giving me a gift of that sort. I don’t know how or if anyone can understand that but as the unheard melody is sweeter that the heard one, this is a lot better.
