No space for my red cruiser

I remember a time when sighting a car in my locality was rare. People depended largely on bicycles, cycle rickshaws and their own two feet to get around, and an occasional scooter thrown in. Houses were scattered far apart and you could see green fields and the skyline till as far as the eye took you. Herds of sheep, goats, horses, donkeys and buffaloes made daily rounds with their human keepers lending the whole scene a very pastoral feel. Sunsets were blazing and vivid and when the sun rose in the mornings, nothing escaped the loving rays. All was tranquil and I fondly remember many a hot mustard oil body massages out in the sun, better than any damn beach in Florida!

Then everyone tom, dick and harry decided to have three or four children each and little by little, slowly slowly, spaces began to diminish. Tall buildings, cars, honking, shouting, smoke - the whole package that is usually delivered to your doorstep once the purchase of development is complete. Today, I cannot recognise my colony. It used to be sprawled across a large area of industrially empty, green land - simple, happy, content and harmonious. Now every family needs a car or atleast two or three cars, everyone has kids, and everyone who got kicked out of Delhi came running here where land was cheaper. Unfortunately, too many came running to set up home here.

They've made a garbage dump of this place. Roads have narrowed since everyone holds claim to even a few inches off the roads. There is a car/bus/motorcycle every minute leaving behind smoke and shattered ear drums.

And why this sudden outbreak from me? Well, I have been thinking about this for a long time. The drastic transformation is confounding, but I was compelled to express because of the new man in my life - my red bicycle (which still needs christening).

I learnt in two days, after much loss of confidence and bruises that are still healing. Face it, I'm going to be 25 this year and here I am, struggling to learn an art that most normal kids master while they're toying with their GI Jos and Barbies (replaced in this generation by TV, you tube and video games). I conquered. Now I can ride without falling off or going into panic everytime I see a vehicle crawling towards me.

But where do I ride. With maniacs behind the wheels of 'harmful vehicles', a bicycle may as well be suicidal. Everytime I take out my bike to ride, I pray that I return home alive and undented. While I ride, I have five thousand vehicles going back and forth, passing me at distances from an inch to five inches. A slight loss of balance from either party and I'm a gonner. Some drivers are total jerks! They make the brush as close as possible to have their daily dose of sadistic fun (may they rot in hell!). A few are decent fellars, keeping their distances and letting me breathe.

What happened to all the spacious roads???? Will our country ever be able to contain its ridiculously inflating population to secure us bikers a safe bicycle lane? I might be fifty by the time they can. To escape the dirty traffic, I cleverly go out to ride on lazy Saturday and Sunday afternoons when the demons are asleep. It is then that I truly enjoy my ride, fresh cool air, the lovely winter sun, hardly anybody around and silence. How much I have waited for moments like these.

What worries me is - how much time left before bicycles are completely thrown off the road? Will there come a time when its insanely, certainly and obviously suicidal to make delicate tyres touch tar? Will bicycles be redundant one day, discarded as childish fancy and unnecessary since neither can it speed you to your destination nor is it socially enviable?

Today, children, electricians, plumbers, gardeners and factory workers are probably the only ones who venture out on these two-wheel drives run absolutely on human energy. Pathetic!

I

I’ve been watching the sun on its way down. Strange that it reminds me of me. When it rose, the world was filled with hope of a bright, sunny, warm day. It shone inspite of the cold, grey clouds and when it came overhead, it was at its best. The fall from the high is the toughest. It sunk lower and lower and lower, and perhaps it cried. But I saw no tears, only sadness, stark sadness in the dim orange which once was blazing. It hid behind a tree as it descended from its throne. Everyone needs something to hide behind when they’re sad. No one likes to be seen crying, at least I don’t. First I saw it hovering over the top branches. Five minutes later, it was lost somewhere amidst the intricate form of the tree, from where I lost it behind the massive trunk. It’s gone. I cannot see its definite shape any longer. What remains is the light it still manages to emanate. How can an invisible sun still leave behind light? Is that the magnificent power of the great giver of life on Earth? Amazing.

I am this sun. They all saw great things in me. Plans were made, my future was drafted and the words “winner” and “leader” were engraved onto my forehead. I kept it up with great pride and efficiency, giving way to the shortcomings of my being now and then. I was loved, revered and respected. They all thought I knew what had to be done all the time and I’d tell them too. I was the ‘doer’. I had plans too. I started believing them. “Hey, they think I’m wonderful…maybe I am…maybe I can do great things…maybe I am meant to do great things….maybe I was especially created for a mission….maybe I just need to settle on my cause and the way will light up on its own…” I wonder if confidence really is a good thing.

I am lost. I managed to keep standing while the earthquake rocked the world around me. But what’s so terrific about still standing? Stand? I can barely stand. I’m tottering. Unstable. Disconnected with myself and the outer world. I don’t know what’s happening inside me. People smile and ask me, “What’s happening with you?” I look blank. I’d pay them to find out what’s happening with me, it’d give me a clue. I’m on a skateboard fast wheeling downhill. Managed to keep myself on it, but a nasty fall stares me in the face. I’m waving my arms around to regain balance and control, even reaching out to clutch at something that might help me survive. But it all slips from my fingers. The icy air gives me blows in the face while my hair flies around wildly, out of control, just like me.

I want out. I do. I don’t want to be stuck in the pit forever. Other people seem to solve their mazes pretty easily, for some it isn’t that easy, but they do find their path in the end. I wonder if I’ll do too. Right now, the picture is bleak. I cannot control my anger, it engulfs me completely and I hate the whole world who’s out there to persecute me (largely imaginary). I lash out at others when it’s totally uncalled for, refuse to bury quarrels and others’ mistakes, and find cruel relief in punishing them. And I seem to punish them by tormenting myself, which leaves me more miserable than before and hence, I’m back where I started, only worse this time. I’ve caught myself in this crazy circle. Can I dig myself out of it?

Optimism irritates me. “Everything will be alright” has got to be the most over-used and least meaningful expression of the century and I have a rifle ready for anyone who sums up my situation with that. Its annoying how every tom, dick and harry has been sending me ‘Happy New Year’, quite obvious that it was sent out as a group email or SMS, nothing personalized about it, just an obligation, a formality. Do they even mean what they’re saying? Is it such a big reason to be happy and dance about like a kangaroo? The only thing it brings about is a change of calendar. Nothing else changes – poverty, pollution, wildlife extinction, crime, unemployment, cultural deterioration, sexism. Oh yeah, it’s also the time to take down Christmas decorations, an activity I keep miles away from. What could be more depressing than the end of celebration, back to dull life which has nothing worth celebrating anymore?

I am brain dead. Nothing motivates me. Nothing interests me. Nothing makes me completely happy. Even if I smile for a moment, sadness paces the ground of my mind in the background. I am not wholesome. I am dead.