Jul 9, 2011

Story of the Sincere Bike

This post is a sort of sequel to my last post, ‘One Day in heaven’. Suppose, as a creator, you have produced something significant, which people admitted as an admirable one; then there is a great possibility for your next works get influenced by this work. What I understand from the comments and direct opinions which I received for my last post is that people liked the story and the way the themes were combined and presented into a single post. 

After six long months’ gap, when I met one of my friends of good old days of Trivandrum, at this Cochin city, happily we both began to explore some unexplored corners of the city. When he visited my dwelling place after some fruitless searches through dress shop windows, I showed off the latest post of Vanity Moments to him. After reading it, he silently admitted that, the multi-perspective narrative of my quest for God, truly has a charm to attract some more visitors. 

Since the time was a little late, I decided to go with him on my bike, so that I could drop him at his temporary settling place. The route was the same where I had received an unexpected help from a stranger two weeks before. On the way, remembering the curious incidents narrated in the post ‘One day in Heaven’, my friend asked hilariously,

“Will your bike stop at midway today also?”

Proudly I said, “Nothing will happen like that. Buddy, trust me. Because, it is my ‘sincere bike’, you know? And even if something unexpected like that happens, the God himself will come to rescue me.”

He just smiled.

I rode my bike a few more meters, and with a shock now I realized that my bike began conking once again. With an ‘Oh shit’ feeling, I thought that it was some two weeks till then I filled my petrol tank for the last time. Once the bike came to a complete halt, I said him piteously, “Buddy, I forgot to fill my tank again. I was running on reserve. Now, the fuel is finished completely”

He smiled, and said, “Ok Mr. Blogger, stop joking. Start your bike again. This is too late, and it is no time for your plays.”

I tried to convince him that what I told him was truth. Unbelievably, he tried to rock the bike and finally convinced when it produced no bubbling noise.  We both remembered, while passing the nearest Petrol Bunk, it was already closed. And presently, no 24 hours Fuel Stations were operating in the city to our knowledge.

I looked around to see if any ‘God’ was hiding in the surroundings waiting for his turn to make a sudden appearance in an inadvertent manner. But no one came. I asked my friend to catch a taxi to go home, while I pull my bike all through the way to my settling place. We finally planned like that, but no taxis appeared.  

In such situations, usually what I do is sitting idle for some minutes. I usually begin my actions only after those hesitant minutes. Here also the same thing I repeated. After those initial numb minutes, I sprang up into action, confronted some of the locals, and inquired if some Petrol Pumps could be operating at those late hours. Finally I saw, one teenage boy with a bike, talking to another one, at a distance. Hoping them to be the Gods of this time, I faced them and talked about my difficulty. Expecting one of those Gods picking up some old disfigured Sprite bottle from the surroundings, while the other one was undoing the cap of the bike’s petrol tank, I asked them, if they knew about any Petrol Pump operating anywhere in the city. 

They informed me that a Petrol Bunk used to be functional till 10.30, which is located close to my friend's temporary dwelling place. I went back to my bike and friend. Together we lowered the bike to one side, so that the remaining drops of the fuel in the tank would come up and sock the operative edges of the tank. After that, I tried to kick-start the bike and succeeded in the second attempt. Without wasting any moment I drove with him aiming the Petrol Bunk, located some three kilometers away. The time was already 10.20, and I drove in such a way that minimum fuel could be utilized.

Finally, just a few yards away from the petrol bunk, from where I could have taken the bike to the fuel machine with a few pushes, my bike came to a dead halt. While filling the petrol tank, I turned and asked my friend,

“I think, now you know, why I call my bike, the ‘Sincere Bike’.
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