A bicycle stands discarded outside our home that everyone thinks to be a peace of junk and I was shocked one day when a junk dealer we had called to collect the old newspapers, wanted to take that cycle as well! My look of anger and hurt darted in his direction, made little impact on him and he still pestered me to let him have that piece of junk and rather increased the offer a little to lure me into selling it.
This cycle, the cynosure of whole of the neighborhood kids at one time, had really fallen on bad times. I wanted to clean it of the dust that smeared it and run my hand smoothly and affectionately over it as it was once the prized possession of my son. Suddenly my eyes were filled with all those memories that pertained to the acquisition of that cycle.
Ashu, my son, was perhaps in fifth class when he started pestering us to let him have a cycle. We were strictly against it as we thought him to be very young to ride it and moreover the road adjacent to our home was a busy road with blind curves and U-turns that made us anxious for his safety. But boys are just boys and he would just not agree to all the reasons that we put against the move and had an answer to all of them.
Exasperated, I asked him one day to write on a piece of paper why he wants to buy a cycle and I added that if we liked his write-up, we will give a thought to his demand.