Cycling to School

It was something that made him excited and proud!

Now it had been established beyond doubt that he was no longer a child. He had those cuts and bruises on his knees and elbows to proudly display as a proof of his graduating from a child to a teenager. Having had his baptism on the green grassy fields behind his quarters, he was now ready for the ultimate test-that of cycling his way to school for the first time!

His school was barely two kilometres from his house. The organisation where his father worked provided buses for taking the children of the employees to school. There were different buses for every school and every day these buses would go round the colony picking the children up from the designated bus stops. Every morning there would be fights to be the first to get into the bus and grab the window seat. Every morning it would be a rush to finish all daily chores so that one could be present on the dot when the bus arrived. The bus was the place where one met his/her friend early in the morning and excitedly shared all that he/she was dying to share last night. Those were the days when limited homes had phones and mobile telephones were unheard of. So one had to wait eagerly for meeting one’s friend at the bus-stop or inside the school bus to share news and secrets! The bus would soon become a mobile chatter box with children laughing, shouting and sometimes fighting with each other on their way to school.

But hey…hold on! All this was meant for children; right?

Grown up boys did not shout at the top of their voice! Neither did they laugh at frivolous jokes!! They also had a different way of settling scores with their enemies!!! If that was so, then why should the boys use the same mode of transport for going to school? And that was how the peer pressure worked on every boy who reached Class VIII. The argument put forward to the parents would be like this-

“ I am already grown up now, and everyone starts going to school in a cycle as soon as he reaches class eight. Its required also because many times we may have to stay back for the practical classes. Then there would be no bus to bring me back from school. “

Often the father would cut in sharply and say-“ Why can’t you walk down on such days? Do you know we had to walk 5 miles to reach to school during our days? We did not dare to ask our parents to buy us cycles to go to school in those days.”

And the mother would chip in also-“ The roads are so dangerous beta. When you will return all uncles will be on their way back to work and there would be more scooters and motor-cycles on the road. No, its very dangerous. Father will meet the principal and tell him not to keep practical classes after school hours. What’s the point? The Principal should either pre-pone the practical classes or organise for a separate school bus to bring students of higher classes back home!”

“But Ma, what about the extra classes that we may have to attend on Saturdays? There would be no school bus on Saturdays. Besides I also have to go for the soccer practice sometimes in the evening. I am the captain of the school soccer team this year,” he would try and add extra arguments.

“But you don’t even know how to ride a bicycle! It is not an easy thing. You must learn that first and be an expert before you begin to venture out on the roads;” it was the father again.

He would then display his scars and retort with a sense of pride in his voice saying that he had already learnt to ride a cycle “half-pedal” and that it was a matter of few days, after his own cycle arrived, by which he would pick up the art of riding it “full- pedal”.

His parents had grudgingly accepted after interviewing his closest friend and learning that he too had had been promised a bicycle by his father in a few days time.

True to his words, his father had bought him a new bicycle, one that was bright red with a gleaming white aluminium painted carrier at the back. The bell was shiny and caught the full rays of sunlight every-time the cycle was brought out in the open. It produced a high pitched tingling sound every-time he rang the bell proudly. The bicycle was a proof that he had finally grown up. Now he could cycle past all those small boys waiting at the bus-stop for the bus. Wouldn’t they feel jealous of him? Of course they would. He was independent now and there would be no waiting for the bus any longer. He could decide to start for school and come back at his own free time. He could even plan a small detour to have a look at that girl from the other school, who had recently caught his fancy. She usually waited at the bus-stop on the other side of the park and now that he had a cycle, he could easily hoodwink his mother and take that small detour that would lead him past the girl’s bus-stop. His heart immediately fluttered in excitement at this thought.

On the day he was to ride his bicycle to school for the first time, he had woken up early and had finished getting ready in record time. Amidst all the advice that his mother had insisted on telling him again and again, he quickly finished his breakfast and was down at the garage in a flash. Using a piece of cloth he gave one final polish to the cycle in an attempt to make it gleam like a streak of lightning in the bright sunshine. Then he was off, clanking at the bell more in order to attract attention of the others. As he hit the main road, he was already feeling overjoyed that his long –cherished dream of cycling to school had been fulfilled. He did not hear the sound of the horn that the scooter behind him was making in an effort to ask him to make way. When the scooter had finally managed to over-take him, he noticed a girl sitting sideways at the back of the scooter, smiling at him. As the scooter sped away, she managed a last minute wave directed at him.

For an instant he was spell-bound. The most beautiful girl of their class had acknowledged him!! School would certainly be a lot more exciting now!