Both of Them are Learning to Ride a Bicycle

The city was gripped by fear of riots. But the two of them were quite determined to learn how to ride a bicycle. They had been promised that once they learned, they’d get a new bicycle. Communal tensions were escalating. People were whispering anxiously, and rumours were flying around. The place where they went to learn cycling was in a densely populated Muslim neighbourhood.

Actually, bicycles were available there for rent at just two rupees per hour. Once they saved up enough for two to four hours, they could finally ride. They hadn’t even known renting bicycles was an option until Jasim Ahmed, a classmate, told them about it. He led them to a small bicycle mechanic’s shop right next to the field where they could practise. Jasim introduced them to the mechanic with a smile: “Chacha, this is Sudhir and Ramesh. They study with me, and they have to learn how to ride a bicycle. I can vouch for them! There won’t be any trouble. Could you please get two bicycles out for them?”

From that day on, whenever Sudhir and Ramesh arrived, the bicycles were always ready for them. They would roll the bikes over to the field to practice. Although they had learned to ride, they still struggled while getting on and off. To overcome these challenges, they found that the steps of the stage in the field were perfect. They would place their feet on the steps, hop onto their bicycles, and ride off without a hitch. They had mastered handling the handlebars, but full control was still a challenge. Turning remained a bit tricky, yet their determination to master the skill was unwavering.

Sudhir and Ramesh were in middle school, eagerly looking forward to high school next year. Their houses were right next to each other, and they had been friends since childhood long before they even knew what an ‘onion’ was. They had picked up many English words over the years, but ‘onion’ never seemed to stick. One day, Ramesh’s uncle came to visit and gifted him Rs 200, a princely sum in their eyes.

At that moment, Ramesh felt a rush of joy; he had never received so much money before. The idea that he could spend it however he liked thrilled him. Elated, he rushed over to Sudhir’s house to share the news. The two friends quickly began plotting how to spend their unexpected windfall.

Sudhir suggested, “Let’s go grab some gupchup!”

But Ramesh wasn’t in the mood for gupchup; he had eaten it countless times before. “No, let’s go to Bharat Café. I want to try their dosa,” he insisted. And with that, the two friends set off right away.

When they arrived at Bharat Café, Sudhir glanced at the menu and exclaimed, “Onion dosa!”

When their order arrived, they were met with a dosa stuffed with raw onions. Both boys recoiled, unable to eat the onions. Instead, they peeled off the crispy edges of the dosa and savoured it with sambar and coconut chutney. It was then they realised that “onion” simply meant pyaaz in Hindi.

Eager to master riding bicycles, Sudhir and Ramesh were excited about getting new bikes for high school. The thought of riding their brand-new bicycles to school filled them with anticipation. However, their enthusiasm was tempered by the ominous rumours spreading through the city. Whispers of impending riots, fuelled by claims of Muslims stockpiling arms in Masjid and Hindus preparing for battle, hung in the air. They both knew that if riots broke out, it could lead to loss of life and a long curfew, locking everyone in their homes — no going out, no shopping, and certainly no bicycle riding. The mere thought of being unable to practice their newfound skill filled them with frustration and anger. 

As they were about to leave for bicycle practice that day, Sudhir’s kaka, Shyam Babu, stopped them in their tracks. “Where are you both going? The situation in the city isn’t good right now. You shouldn’t go out too often,” he warned.

Sudhir felt his excitement deflate. “We’re just going to practice riding our bicycles. We’re getting better every day,” he replied.

But Shyam Babu wasn’t interested in their cycling progress. He said, “You need to stop for a few days. The field you go to is surrounded by Muslim neighbourhoods.” 

Ramesh replied, “So what, kaka? Why would Muslims harm us for no reason?”

Shyam Babu shot Ramesh a glance but remained silent. Instead, he turned to Sudhir. “You kids don’t understand. You don’t know what Muslims are like. They’ll start a fight over the smallest issues.”

The two boys exchanged sceptical looks. “But we have Muslim friends, and they’ve never caused us any trouble. They’re just like us,” Sudhir insisted.

Shyam Babu was furious. His voice was filled with anger. He said, “You all don’t even try to understand the point. There’s no use in arguing for nothing. Muslims are known for their fiery temperament. They eat chickens and roosters. They eat beef. They eat onions and garlic. What don’t they eat? Consuming such forbidden things heats up the blood. Their nature becomes completely violent. They start resorting to fights at the slightest provocation. Taking someone’s life is like child’s play for them.

Sudhir and Ramesh found Shyam Babu’s words amusing, but they didn’t laugh. “No point in making Kaka angrier,” they both thought. But Ramesh said, “Everyone eats chicken, Kaka! People say that Hindus eat more chicken than Muslims these days.”

Shyam Babu became even more upset. He was completely furious now. He said, “It’s difficult to make you all understand. Don’t you get it? Muslims hate Hindus. They call Hindus ‘kafir.’ That’s why they’re planning to eliminate Hindus from this country. Then this land will become theirs. Hindustan will turn into Pakistan.”

Sudhir and Ramesh stood in stunned silence, struggling to comprehend his words. Shyam Babu’s frustration boiled over, and he stomped off, leaving the boys bewildered. Determined not to let the situation ruin their day, they headed to the field for cycling practice.

When they reached the field, it was already four o’clock. They regretted being delayed because of Shyam Babu. The man who rented out the bicycles greeted them cheerfully, “Here you are! I’ve got two bicycles ready for you.” He wiped them down and stood them up for the boys. Sudhir looked at him closely, noticing the happiness on his face. He was known as a good mechanic, always busy with repair work. There were always four or five people working for him. With a smile on his face, the mechanic asked, “How long before you’ll be ready to ride on the road?”

“It’ll take a few more days, Chacha! I’m not steady on it yet. Need to find some flat ground,” Ramesh replied. The mechanic laughed again. Laughing was his habit. That was just the kind of person he was. Everyone spoke highly of him. His name was Alauddin.

When both arrived at the field with their bicycles, the sun was already setting towards the south. They thought it would get dark in two hours. There was still some sunlight left, but because it was winter, it had become weak. People sitting in the field were starting to leave, though a few boys were still playing marbles on one side. A game of cricket was also going on in another corner. The field was big enough that they still had plenty of space to ride their bicycles.

Both climbed onto their bicycles from the steps near the stage. After riding for a while, Ramesh headed towards the bushes on one side of the field. He tried to steer his bicycle between two bushes, but couldn’t make it through and fell, getting scratched by the branches. Seeing this, Sudhir also gave it a try. His first attempt ended with him falling into the dust, but he quickly stood up and went back to the steps to get on the bicycle again. He was determined now. He wouldn’t rest until he managed to ride through the bushes. He kept trying, falling two or three more times, but kept getting back up right away. The branches scratched his body, but finally, he managed to ride his bicycle through the bushes without falling. His face lit up with joy, and Ramesh also praised him. However, Ramesh himself didn’t dare try again and avoided going towards the bushes.

Both were enjoying riding their bicycles. Sudhir had gotten off a couple of times, resting his feet on the steps, and after taking a short break, he would start riding again. Suddenly, a man appeared in front of his bicycle. The man was carrying a wooden box on his head and was dressed in a lungi and kurta. Sudhir was right behind him and noticed that the man was walking slowly, probably because the box on his head was heavy. Sudhir’s bicycle didn’t have a bell, so he couldn’t ring it to make the man move out of the way. Seeing that the man wasn’t moving aside, Sudhir panicked. He tried to steer around him but couldn’t manage it. The front wheel of the bicycle hit the man, who lost his balance and fell. The box on his head also fell, and the scissors inside it scattered all over the field — scissors without any handles.

The man got up, stood tall, and slapped Sudhir twice.

Slowly, a few people started gathering there. Most of them were young men. They surrounded Sudhir. Sudhir realized that these people were from the nearby neighbourhood. Ramesh also arrived there with his bicycle. Ramesh rushed over, trying to explain the accident, but one of the young men grabbed Sudhir by the collar, his eyes blazing with anger. Thankfully, the man with the box intervened. “Let it go; he’s just a kid. It was an accident,”. Mistakes happen. I’ve already slapped him twice, and that’s punishment enough.” He then freed Sudhir’s collar from the young man’s grip, and Sudhir felt relieved. He quickly moved over to Ramesh.

The man then said to both, “Listen, babua! Now you should leave the field quickly. It’s getting dark.” Saying this, he began picking up the scattered scissors and putting them back in the box. The man was a scissor repairman, fixing broken scissors for a living. Seeing him collect the scissors, Sudhir and Ramesh started helping him. There were many scattered pieces, and together the three of them put them all back in the wooden box, which was now full.

The two boys then lifted the box and placed it back on the man’s head. He went on his way, and the others in the crowd also began to leave gradually. Darkness was starting to spread across the field. The two boys quickly took their bicycles and exited the field. They parked the bicycles at the repair shop, paid the repairman, and headed back home.

As they were leaving, they could hear the repairman’s voice behind them, asking, “When will you come back to learn cycling?” They pretended not to hear him and kept walking.

On the way back home, Ramesh and Sudhir walked silently. The incident that had just occurred was still fresh in their minds. After a while, Ramesh broke the silence and said, “Maybe we should take a break from learning to ride the bicycle for a few days.”

Sudhir looked at him and, after a moment, asked, “And what about going to school?” They fell silent again.

When they reached near their home, Ramesh suggested, “It’s been a long time since we’ve had some snacks. Let’s go eat some ‘gupchup’ at Sardarji’s shop.” The two friends quickly headed towards Sardar Joginder Singh’s shop for gupchup.

This story was published in the short story collection Daddy Gaam with the title O Dunu Cycle Sikhait Achhi in 2007.

Kathakar Ashok, is a celebrated figure in Maithili literature, renowned for his contributions to Maithili storytelling. His works include the poetry collection Chakravyuh and short story collections Ohi Raatik Bhor, Maatbar, and Daddy Gaam, along with essays in Maithil Aankhi, Katha Path and a critical piece, Baat Vichar. 

Translated from Maithili to English by Ashutosh Kumar Thakur. Thakur is a Bangalore-based management professional, literary critic and curator.