Cycling Adventure : A Story

Read my new story and enjoy :

Uncle Dev was my best friend despite he being twelve years older than me. It was he who taught me several things including flying kite and riding bicycle; he even taught me playing gilli-danda, but we had to abandon this adventurous game after a misadventure in which I happened to hit the gilli at a window pane, shortly followed by it crash landing on the head of the very lady who was the owner of the house whose window pane I had broken.

"No more of gilli-danda!" commanded my mother shouting as loud as she could, which made this command of the first degree, that is, it had to be followed whatever the situation.

I dared not disobey her commands, so did Uncle Dev.

And then flying kite too was forbidden one fine sunny day. It had rained for two days, and the sun was out that day. The roof of our old house was muddy, and it had grown slippery. We cared little for the slippery roof when we decided to fly the kite as Basant was round the corner and several kites dotted the skyline inviting us to try our hands too. Leave alone flying the kite, we had not even threaded the kite when Uncle Dev tripped and hit his head on the side wall. He bled profusely, crying loud enough to attract Mummy's attention. She cared for his wound later, but first forbade us to go on to the roof and ever make any effort to fly kites.

Three days later, when Uncle Dev had recovered from his wound, I said, "The only sport we have at our disposal in this dusty town is cycling. God forbid if we are forbidden from riding too."

"Don’t worry, buddy," said Uncle Dev. He addressed me 'buddy', and I loved this term.

Uncle Dev was unemployed; he had tried his hand at numerous jobs, but bad luck accompanied him whichever job he chose to do. After his twelfth, he joined a departmental store as a salesman and this job lasted until the store caught fire and was destroyed. Then he joined a clinic as a nursing assistant and worked here until the clinic was torched by the family members of a patient who had died out of medical negligence. Then he joined a hotel and served here until it was closed down following the discovery of a lizard in its vegetable. And now no businessman in town dared to employ him…and I think all this was unfortunate; I don’t think he had ever done any mischief; but he was certainly unlucky and bad things happened of themselves.

Cycling was what we both loved. It provides the rider a great amount of freedom. It affords you the freedom to look around as you ride, though in the increasing traffic, it has become increasingly difficult to deviate your eyes from the road, still a bicycle is far better than a motorcycle. When you are riding a motorcycle, or a scooter for that matter, you don’t think about anything else but the destination; on the other hand, when you are on a bicycle, you can stop at any place. If you are on the motorcycle, a helmet with a glass cover is a must, else you can't open your eyes, but nothing of the sort with a bicycle. The gusts of wind that you feel on the face eliminate all your fatigue; the more you ride, the more you like to ride, so fun it is to ride a bicycle. You see the world as you ride by, and give the world a chance to see you as well. Yet another great disadvantage with a motorcycle is that even a small touch with another vehicle can dislodge you from the seat and bring you crashing down on the road with the vehicle right upon you. But a bicycle is another thing. Even if you topple over, there is little chance of getting seriously hurt, chiefly owing to slower speed.

Uncle Dev and I rode bicycle through the city often times, especially in our vacations. I can vividly remember our riding on the long cycle track that the government built two years ago, and I also saw how soon it was rendered useless within a year owing to below standard material used in it. Riding through Mall Road was fun as greenery pervades the landscape there, and it is fun to ride the bicycle on the cycle track in the stadium, where our ordinary bicycles were not allowed, but we always succeeded to sneak in.

We had ridden so much on the city roads that we were looking for a new adventure, and then we decided to have an exhilarating long bicycle ride on the outskirts of the town.

It was eight in the morning of the month of June. We wanted to have adventure before my summer vacations would be over. It was quite warm, but we were little worried. I set out bidding good-bye to Mummy and followed Uncle Dev, who always liked to be the harbinger. We first headed for the big round-about and then turned to the road leading to the old fort. We rode and rode, and crossed a couple of dusty villages on the way. We must have ridden for well over an hour. I was feeling a little hungry, but more thirsty than hungry. I caught up with Uncle Dev and said, "Uncle, I think we should stop for a while."

"Yes, sure, buddy, we have been riding for quite a while," said he looking at the watch. "Look, there is a little greenery, we can stop there."

We stopped our bicycles. Only then we noticed that we had not brought our water bottles. We always carried them with us, but today we seemed to have missed such an important point.

"What can we do?" asked I.

"I think we can drink from one of the hand-pumps that we find in some village," suggested Uncle Dev.

"No, why not buy bottled water," said I.

"Do you think we are going to get bottled water on this road?" said he. "All the villages we have come across on this road are very poor."

"What harm is it to try? At least we will get some cold drink there."

Uncle Dev shook his head and then we rode again only to stop at the next village. Luckily, perhaps not luckily, we found a shop selling bottled water.

"How much is this bottle?" asked Uncle Dev slipping his hand into his trousers pocket, which came out empty. When I saw him, I found him scratching his head with two fingers. He was looking to me with perplexing eyes.

"What happened?" asked I.

"I think I have forgotten my purse at home," said he.

"What should we do?" I was angry with him. Then I decided to try with the shopkeeper if he would give the bottle for free. "Bhaiya, we are very thirsty. Give me a bottle and I shall pay on my next visit here."

"Sorry, little friend, I am yet to make any sale today, and if you are so thirsty, why don’t you try that hand-pump?" said the shopkeeper in his rough voice pointing to the hand-pump.

"I can't say if the water is safe there," said Uncle Dev. "Let's try at some restaurant, I'm sure we can get clean water there."

We started to ride again. Not far had we gone when we spotted an impressive building. We braked our bicycles right in the front and looked for any signboards, there was none, in one corner of the outside wall, was written, "Wellness of the mind is what we care about." The building appeared to be some hotel or hostel, or may be a spa.

We looked into each other's eyes, and then straightaway rode into the porch. Leaving our bicycles there, we went in. We spotted a water-cooler near the reception. This was what we were looking for. We drank to our delight and felt fresh.

Just then, a lady in a white saree approached us. She said in a sweet voice, "Sir, please take a seat there, Sir will be right here in a few minutes."

"Thank you for the water, but we aren’t here to meet any one," said Uncle Dev. "We would better go."

"You cannot go without meeting Sir," said the lady, but this time her tone was firm.

"We have come far this time and we are getting late," said I. "Mummy will be waiting for us."

"You can go, but he needs to meet Sir," said the lady stressing every syllable.

"How can you force him to meet Sir?" said I.

"We are going," said Uncle Dev rudely. "That is too high a price for some water that we took here."

"You mean you are not going to behave well," said the lady in a threatening voice. "Guards!" she called in a loud voice.

And in no time, three well-built guards appeared on the scene. They surrounded Uncle Dev. "This patient refuses to see Sir, take him in."

"I am no patient," cried Uncle Dev hoarsely.

We were completely bewildered, Uncle Dev was being taken for some patient, and then I gathered my courage to ask, "What type of patient do you think he is?"

"He is a lunatic and he is now at the right place, it is the best lunatic asylum in the region," said the lady.

"I am not mentally ill," cried Uncle Dev in desperation.

"He is not mentally ill," I too screamed realizing the gravity of the situation.

"We entered here by mistake, we came here only for water," said Uncle Dev.

"You can see our bicycles outside," said I.

But no one seemed to hear us seriously.

Two guards linked Uncle Dev's arms and took him to the office, while I trailed behind. I was undecided whether I should remain there or rush back home to tell Mummy what terrible thing had happened to Uncle Dev.

Uncle Dev was forced to lie down in the doctor's cabin, while I was asked to wait outside. I could hear Uncle Dev shrieking desperately, but no one seemed to be interested in what all he was telling.

Just then an ambulance arrived, and from it appeared two sturdy nursing assistants linking arms to a man and marching towards the doctor's office. All along, he was raising his legs in the air and shouting, "I am perfectly sane, why are you carrying me?"

And soon the dark cloud of doubts dispersed. In a couple of minutes, the doctor was begging sorry. "We took him to be our patient, we're sorry, extremely sorry," said he.

And when he heard that we were thirsty and hungry, he fed us a rich banquet of snacks. When we left, he did not forget to give us a bottle of water, and bid us farewell with the parting words, "I'm sure this bottle will keep you safe from any untoward entry in any building where you shouldn’t be."