Newer Beginnings

There are things I have wanted to do for a very long time. Things not physically demanding or humanly impossible, but things that wear the sheepskin of "now is not the right time." One such thing, as simple as it may sound, was owning a bicycle. Not that I am a fitness enthusiast or have been dying to tone my calf muscles. No, I'm a sloth that way. But because I have wanted to own one for that fleeting yet fulfilling feeling of finally being able to take something off what we all love to call, "a bucket list."

My ride home from the cycle store, through the busy streets of the city, was not quite memorable. Having last laid my hands on a cycle, as precisely as I can remember, nine years ago, my ride was wibbly-wobbly. The easy fact that one could lift their bikes and cross the road in order to escape the frenzied road traffic completely escaped my head. Instead, I waited behind impatient car drivers honking loudly and bikes that were ready to whir madly past my feeble two-wheeler. Almost nearing the end of the bustling highway, I took a turn on to the road that leads home. "Horn-ok-please" signs and incessant screeching from motorbikes were in the distance now. Just me, my aching tendons, and the new cycle getting used to the dusty roads. I rode past shops, most of them alive with the excitement of the approaching weekend, filled with happy youngsters and cheerful families. I soaked up all the sights and sounds around me as I pedalled by very slow, mostly out of exhaustion. And then, just like that, I was reminded of something I had told myself months ago when I was caught in unexplainable bouts of depression - "Build your own happy space." I smiled for a few seconds, the late evening wind on my face, and pedalled a little faster. I was going to get home, and I was going to be happy, and content.