The Bicycle - A short story.

She walked briskly to the cycle stand. She wanted to get out of there before the crowd converged on the cycles. She looked at the cycles. Arranged in 2 neat groups. The bigger group belonged to the guys and the smaller one to the girls. She hurried to her bicycle. There it was. Parked neatly to one side. She always came a bit early so that she could get the corner spot, which aided her in getting her cycle out quickly without having to wait for anyone to move their bikes. She walked faster as she could hear the voices behind her. Ah! She was there. She looked at her bicycle. Part of the reason for this come first, leave first routine was that she possessed a really old bicycle. She was embarrassed of its old style and withering looks. The seat had a couple of gashes in it exposing the sponge which had now taken on the hue of the red soil, the chain squeaked when you moved it, one of the wires from the brake hung down without any purpose, both the pedals were hanging on to the cycle for dear life, the paint was peeling almost everywhere. She had asked her parents for a new bicycle but as it went with all things that had to do with money in their lives, even this had to wait. She had tried to force them to reconsider but as long as it was usable, no matter how many times the chain got yanked out of its place, it was supposed to be used. She had no other choice. In that sleepy, small town there was no other mode of transport. Her tuitions were about 4 miles away. She had tried to walk one day. It was worse than anything she had ever done. So she meekly surrendered to her fate and day in and day out used the same old rickety cycle.

But each passing day that she rode on the old bicycle something happened to her. She could never get her thoughts away from the squeaks and the laborious movement of the cycle. She felt like everyone on the road was watching her. That everyone was laughing at her laborious pedaling. She tried to be as unobtrusive as possible and just when she'd think that she was succeeding to an extent, the damn chain would give away with a loud noise and she would be left with the pedals going berserk. She would get down surreptiously; pull the cycle as far away from sight as possible and work on the chain. She had become such an expert at fixing it that she would do it in a matter of seconds and hurry on avoiding to look at anyone, scared that they were laughing harder than ever and were watching her every move.

This went on for a couple of years. Long enough for her to loose a lot. She did not want to make any friends; she did not want to make any contacts. She avoided everyone. If the will to study had not been so great in her, she would have avoided going to the tuitions altogether. But she could not do that because she knew that her future depended on it. Any chance she had of getting out of this rut, of getting out of the poverty that surrounded her was based sorely on her doing well at her studies. She was not a bright student by any means. In fact she was a below-average student, but that fact remain hidden due to the hard work she put in. She would studiously study every single day, which enabled her to get some above average marks from time to time. She needed her tuitions very much. She had gotten a chance to attend them thanks to the generosity of one of its founding members who happened be her dad's classmate eons ago. She had wept with joy when her dad had given her the news that she could start attending the tuitions. Though she had never seen the man, she always found herself indebted to this kindness. So the thought of not attending the tuitions, not making herself as she imagined a laughing stock of the entire town did not even cross her mind.

She tried her best to keep her cycle in the best condition possible. She tried to sew the seat with her limited skills; she ended up poking herself in the finger. She tried to wash her cycle every week but the peeling paint sometimes put a damper on that. She was scared she might damage the paint more with her regular washing and polishing. But she tried to do whatever she could and if it were not for her efforts, the cycle might have disintegrated a long time back.

One fine day as she parked her cycle in the deserted cycle stand, she noticed something on the wall. What attracted her to the poster was the image of a shiny red bicycle. Her eyes grew large as she read the poster with a thumping heart. It was flyer announcing a contest. She had difficulty reading it, as she did not want to take her eyes of the bicycle. Oh! What a beauty it was. It seemed to gleam and there was arrogance about it. She could see that it was blessed with the most modern amenities - some she did not even recognize. Hurriedly she tried to read what the contest was all about.
"...we are pleased to announce a contest that we hope shall motivate the young people and in the process help our community as a whole. We are looking for volunteers who would work with us to raise blood donations in our community..." It went on about how important blood donation was and how it saved lives. She did not know what else because she skipped over that part. She joined it again at
"..we are establishing this prize in which the volunteer who manages to sign up the largest number of people in one month shall be awarded with this latest model cycle...". She stood there for some more time watching the posters in silence. She could hear students around her but this time she did not duck in as she usually did when she heard someone approaching. She was not listening to anything; she was so totally absorbed in her appraisal of the cycle that she was oblivious to everything else. It was not until someone jostled in front of her trying to read the poster that she came back to her senses. She gave the bicycle one last longing look and backed off as more and more students tried to read what was going on.

She felt like shooing them all away and peeling the poster off the wall and taking her home with her. She had heard and read about young people her age sticking posters in their room of famous athletes and movie stars. Though she did not have a room of her own, she wanted to put up this poster. To look at it and be inspired by it and more importantly not have people having any knowledge of it. But that was impossible. As she pedaled her way back she could see the posters put up at many different places. She was looking for an opportunity to take off the poster and she did when she passed a deserted street. She got off from her bike, tried to remove the poster gingerly, succeeded with a few rips, rolled it quickly making sure nobody had seen her and then riding away faster than she had ever done in her life. The squeaking, creaking bicycle did not seem to be bothering her any more. She was fantasizing about the new bicycle. About how wonderful it would be to be riding that bike and how proud she'd feel to be riding it to her tuitions. No longer would she have to hurry. She could take all her time, show her new bike off - not be forever thinking that someone was laughing at her. She smiled to herself as she looked for a place to hang the poster up.

The contest started in a week. She wished it had been something not as extravagant as going out and getting people to sign up to give away their blood. Maybe an essay writing contest or a painting contest. Not something that would require her to interact with people - the one thing she had kept away so religiously from. But nothing was going to dampen her enthusiasm. This was like God answering her everyday prayer of blessing her with a new bicycle. She was not going to lie back and have the only chance of possessing such a magnificent bicycle slip away from her. She was going to do her best, she decided.

She talked to her father about it. He was bewildered more than anything else. He did not have anything to advise her because he did not know himself. She had already hit her first roadblock. How was she going to do it when she had no idea how to proceed? But she was determined and sometimes determination does more than one could ever hope. She read the small print. She had to sign up with an organization. Maybe they could help her out. Point her in the right direction.

She rode her cycle to the address listed on the poster to register her name. It took her about half an hour to gather her courage and wits before she entered one of the many tents that had been set up - the one which had a makeshift cardboard sign that said - Registration. Her hopes took a damper when she saw that there were a lot of people seated in the tent waiting to be registered. This was going to be more difficult than she thought. She sat down very self-consciously and wanted to run out of there. But the image of the bicycle managed to stop her from doing that. Eventually her number came and it was with a pounding heart that she stepped forward towards the desk of the person who seemed to be taking the registrations.

"Name.." he asked as soon as she was within earshot.
"Age..School...Father's Name..." he went on as she answered each one of his questions.

He gave her a couple of forms to fill.
"Am I done?" she asked.
"Yes..." he said dismissing her.
She did not know what to do. She had hoped coming there would offer her some sort of help on what she needed to do, but that did not seem to be the case. The man was dismissing her without so much as a word. This was not going to work. There was no way it was going to work. She had no idea of what she had to do, so how was she going to beat all those competent looking people around her. It was not easy to watch all her hopes come crashing down. She could see her old bicycle from where she stood and she could not look at it. Everything around her seemed to close in on her. Her legs gave away under her and she collapsed.

The next thing she knew, she seemed to be surrounded by chaos. There was a lot of screaming, shouting and every sort of loud noise making things going around her. She slowly opened her eyes. She remembered the time she had to make a trip to the general ward of the hospital when her mother was hospitalized. It had terrified her. The noise, the stench and the pain of the people. She realized with horror that she was alone. She felt a prick in her hand. Something had been hooked to her. She looked up. There hung a bottle of bright red blood upside down and it seemed to be flowing into her veins. She just watched as the irony of the situation sunk in. Suddenly her face brightened. She knew where she had to start!

*The End*