Biker tales

Travelling on a bicycle can be a tiring as well as exhilarating experience. I learnt to ride when I was in Class 6. I was 10 and didn’t have much height to boast of. Hence, touching the ground for balance would often turn out to be a tedious affair, when I were to sit properly on the seat. But need is the mother of innovation or rather adjustments. I quickly learnt to balance my body on toes.

I am a slow learner…in about everything. The scenario wasn’t much different in the case of learning to ride as well. Everyday I would call on my neighbour Mr Sarkar and his son Dodoi, who was just a couple of years younger to me but a master in riding…hell! He could ride without holding the handles! The reason why I used to pester him was because he had promised and very enthusiastically (otherwise I wouldn’t have taken the promise seriously) to teach me riding, unlike my father, who didn’t have the time or the inclination then. Anyway, Mr Sarkar, Dodoi, my sister and me would proceed towards the large maidan behind our house in the evening and try to learn how to ride the bicycle. I can vouch for one thing, it was tough and one of the few things that I pursued with dogged determination…even the accident didn’t deter me.

The accident put me out of action for couple of months. I don’t remember clearly but by then Mr Sarkar had received his transfer orders and the family had shifted based to Kolkata. It made me very sad because Mr Sarkar really knew how to motivate people and give that extra push. Coming to that fateful evening when this accident occurred, the entire troop had as usual made our way to the ground. Not a single person was on sight besides a couple of schoolchildren making their way home I think. Thankfully, they must have sensed my fear because they walked at the far end of the ground. As usual, I climbed the bike, brought the right side pedle up and took my position. The other two had scampered off to their respective corners to ride their bi-tricycles. Behind Sarkar uncle held the bike. Pushing me slowly ahead, he told me to ride in a straight line, not to lose balance, try to balance my body in such a way that I wouldn’t fall. Slowly, I gathered confidence, the two-week practise was paying off, I felt. I started peddling with some speed. I felt elated. Suddenly, a thought passed by mind…was Sarkar uncle still holding my bike. I turned behind and saw him waving and laughing from a distance, shouting at me to look in front and keep riding. It all happened in a two seconds, I panicked, lost my balance and fell down with my cycle falling on me. Except for a few scratches here and there, nothing major had happened. But as I tried standing up, I felt intense pain shoot from my leg. The side of my right leg, near the ankle had turned red. The pain was unbearable and Sarkar uncle quickly took me home. After an ice bag treatment and an ointment massage, my leg puffed up. Mr Sarkar dismissed it as a sprain and told me not to thing much of it. Yeah! Right, I thought. Easy for you to say, you are not undergoing the pain. I silently cursed him. Next day, with the pain not subsiding, we went to the doctor, who after an x-ray announced that I had sustained a hairline fracture. Next couple of weeks, I walked with a crepe bandage decorating my leg and with a limp.

Now, when I think back, I feel that the fall was a blessing in disguise. Maybe, if I hadn’t fallen, I would never have ridden the bike without someone’s assistance…would always have been afraid of falling…most importantly, I would have had to be dependent on Mr Sarkar. Good for me that I didn’t voice my anger then, for I must actually thank Mr Sarkar for helping me get over my fear, getting me interesting in riding the bicycle and most of all making me independent.