Sunday-cling

Sunday-cling

One fine Sunday morning, a friend of mine asked me to accompany him on an errand to a place about 11 kilometers from home. The mode of transport: a cycle! Okay, okay, before you raise your eyebrows in a “what’s the big deal!” way, let me tell you what the deal is. I’m not a great fan of cycling. It’s not that I have anything against it- past fears etc. It’s just that, I don’t prefer using that mode of transport and if I can I would definitely avoid it. But anyway, despite all this I found myself acquiescing to this proposal.

Thus, that fine morning had us hit the road on our cycles with nothing more than caps and a book, which my friend needed. My friend has the air of a villager, while I am a thorough bred city boy. He has the energy of an ox, whereas for me, well…. I’m not all that bad. His favourite mode of commuting is…. Guess?? A cycle!!! You guessed it!! Thankfully our transit was at a leisurely pace, thus allowing for a comfortable and enjoyable journey.

After the errand was attended to, we began our journey back. We had to be back for another commitment and were running slightly late. We stepped on it, pedal after pedal. The mid-day sun was harsh and the traffic, typically Indian, wasn’t so kind. He put some distance between us and I kept trying to crop it.

My heart began to pump wildly, my leg muscles were tightening and in my mind I was praying. At one junction, a tanker had stopped right in the middle of the road a little while before I reached. I braked sharply and tried to turn into a side road. As I did, the wheels skidded and my cycle fell. The first words out of my mouth were, “Sweet Mother of God!”

Amazingly, I landed on my feet. I hastily picked up my cycle and was off once again, as fast as I could. Praise and thanks were on my lips. The ordeal ended with our safe return home.

P.S. We were a few minutes late for our commitment.