It’s one of those beautiful evening, which leaves
us mesmerised on how angelic nature can get. As I glance over from my window
sill and see the rain drops cluttering against the walls of our building and
the trees looking bright after the rain wash, sipping the hot tea. Nothing can
get better than smelling the aroma of tea, shuddering the shoulders against the
frosty ambience, with a backdrop of a rainy evening. Suddenly, I reckon that I
am running late for my office, I reluctantly finish my cup of tea and flurry up
to the gate to catch my cab.
I wrapped myself with my pastel green
duppatta, which has a traces of embroidery work done here and there, over my
head and prepare to cross the road to get into my cab, the driver has been
waiting for over quarter of an hour now and perhaps I can see him scorning
behind the car window. As I try to cross the road holding my bag, my clutch,
and of course my duppatta to prevent me from getting soggy from rain, I see a
small kid riding his bicycle with his father. I froze where I was standing and
kept looking at the warmth vibration filled in this cold climate. For a moment,
I forgot I was standing in the middle of the road getting myself soaked in the
rain. (Now let me tell you why I was so moved with this father and kid).
The small boy was riding the cycle by
standing (he was too small to reach the pedals that he had to stand up and
ride), his father was holding the handle of the cycle in one hand, to provide
balance so that the boy does not fall, his other hand was holding a small piece
of cardboard above the boy’s head so that his child does not soak in rain. I
started choking, my eyes filled with joyous contempt on seeing such a warm bond between father and son.
Probably my cab driver thought I was dumb,
as he started honking rapidly. I soon realised where I was standing and
hurriedly crossed the road and jumped into the car. I could sense the drivers heavy
sigh, (He would have wished to give me a face-palm for my dumbness, I half
doubt!!). After the car moved, I smothered my hair and tried to dry myself
from the wet duppatta (I know it’s pointless, still we do such stupid things!!!)
and after this mini chore, I duly rested my hand against the window, glancing over
the passing vehicles and recollected the little boy and his father. I
sheepishly smiled, my memory flashed to the time, when I was a small child and
my father was teaching me and my sister to ride the bike. He used to run behind
us holding the cycle to give us the necessary balance and with a slight
hesitation he used to free his hands only to grab hold of the cycle again.
After completing our rounds, he would catch his breath and gasp, “Both were
brilliant today”!!!
As I treasure this little memory with me
and prepare myself for a tough day at work, I make a small promise to myself,
one day I will make him proud!!
~ My Father ~
