When I look back at my childhood cycling habit, I find it rather absurd. Everyday, I’d pull out my BSA Lady Bird with a customized, rotating purple bell and big black basket, and cycle around my building. I’d do about a hundred, hundred and fifty rounds…that’s an hour of cycling. But, just round and around my building which really was a small circle of concrete boundary around a seven story, dull-blue, small Bombay building. Imagine doing this everyday, for over 3 years? I find it rather queer that I never stepped out of the building, onto the roads of Bombay, or perhaps a nearby lane, and even joined a cycling club.
Over the years however, my prowess with the cycle has stood me in good stead. In my early days in Gurgaon, I did a few enjoyable cycling trips around the neighborhood, watching middle-aged women haggle with vegetable sellers, and tumbling carts of mangoes drop to the dust.
And recently, I joined a spot cycling club. We cycle vigorously, then slowly, and then tiringly… matching music to pace. I only just started, and feel as if I have been doing this for a long, long time.
“In the end, You’ll be left with nothing,” yells the top of the pack.
“But, for that you need to give it EVERYTHING,” she screams.
And, the wheels go round and around, with renewed vigour.