It was my birthday and my parents gifted me a small cycle befitting my height.
I went to school and eagerly waited for the classes to come to an end, and as they ended, I jumped off the bench, took my bag and ran off to my house, forgetting my friends, whom I used to always meet and come along with, forgetting even to switch off the lights and fans, my prime duty as a class monitor.
I guess, that day I could even overtake Usain bolt. I reached my house, nibbled and gobbled the sweet dishes prepared lovingly by my caring mother and with her consent ran to explore cycling.
At first, I admired the beautiful structure it had, the big fat tyres, the slim saddle, the beautiful design of the whole cycle, the handlebars, the toe clip, the pedals and the chief attraction the horn that could actually attract the whole neighborhood like the ‘teddy boys’ from the movie, the wild ones.
It was afternoon; I walked with my cycle on the bare street so as to escape disturbances on my way, I saw the path clean and thought of venturing to cycle.
With the pride like that of John Abraham I sat on my cycle and started to pedal, I reached half a meter farther and dropped myself into the drainage pit. I was hurt a little bit on my hand and a few scratches on my leg but my cycle had the most, its tyres changed its shape. With a lot of struggle I brought the cycle out of the pit, took off my handkerchief and wiped my cycle, I was sorry for its beauty didn’t last long.