The cycle

 Grabbing a coffee, I sat on my couch to watch my favorite show, "cycle around Japan," on NHK World Japan. The episode was phenomenal, and in a few minutes, I went into nostalgic memories of my cycling. I missed every aspect of cycling, right from balancing, racing to the feeling of the wind on my face. I was Seven and in school when I learned cycling from my friends.  In one of my haunting experiences, I hit the bike on a boulder, which had me flying in the air without wings and finally resulting in falling flat on my face. I got a few bruises and a twisted ankle, but that didn't end my learning; it continued whenever I had a cycle. 

In '90s, kids owning a bicycle was a luxury, and for many of them, including myself, it was the biggest reward one could potentially ask their parents when they achieve their targets. These targets could always mean ending up performing exceptionally well in academics. As a kid, I did not bother to set bars high but enjoyed little perks of life thrown at me. Perse, sometimes still, I demanded or was rewarded for our good deeds (mostly the good deeds of my elder brother) once in a while with monetary compensation. We, as kids, would take the highest value and debate what we could do with it? Finally, we would spend it on renting a men's bicycle for 3 rupees for an hour, half an hour of cycling session for my brother and me. We would walk to the shop and hire a cycle, which was medium-sized for a seven-year-old me and my nine-year-old brother. We could hardly cross over legs on the cycle bar, so; we would do a half peddle cycling. We would take turns riding around the streets. The joy of riding a cycle and owning it as yours is ineffable. When the time is close to complete, each will take last turns to bid a good farewell. Lastly, we would return the cycle to the shop and come to the home to cherish or rekindle a new joy with a snack. 

When I think of the instance mentioned above, all I could think of is how we enjoyed our childhood filled with happiness and joy. We discovered joy through patience and perseverance. We learned life's skills via reality, math through small shopping, survival skills on a summer break at our grandparents' house, or a camp at school. We never complained of exhausting the entertainment: one tv, one stary night, one elephant on the street, one torn football, or simply a street vendor could amaze us all. After all, I believe less was more.