The bicycle training
M y grandfather nurtured a dream that his grandson would learn to ride a bicycle. It began to come into reality when I was promoted to Grade 3. My elder cousin was gifted with a bicycle when he was of my age. Over the years his legs grew long and he was unable to manage that smaller bike. Hence, it was decided that I would use that old blue and red rusted bicycle. I was excited to see a real big gift when it was brought to our house in a yellow public taxi. It didn’t matter whether my gift was really new or old. In those days we used to recycle a lot of things. A neighbour boy who used to work in a cycle repair shop was asked to oil and polish my bicycle and make it a ridable one. He was also invited to be my trainer. There was no question of remuneration; but he was given an offer by my grandfather. He announced, “I will give you a box full of twenty rasgollas the day my grandson rides this bicycle himself.” The boy, named Raja, smiled and nodded in agreement. The next day he came du