Our family went on frequent weekend picnics. Papaji was very fond of taking us to various local parks and lakes. We would plan the trip the night before and get started early next day. Biji would boil eggs, make paranthas and pack some dessert. Kuku and I would pack a bag with plates, glasses, spoons and towels. Biji reserved the supervision of ‘placing of the food’ herself. Papaji took care of the durrie to be spread on the ground for sitting and game items like ball, ring, Ludo and skip rope. Papaji’s bicycle would get loaded up with bags of things hanging from all around. Papji would hop on the main seat and balance the bicycle with his feet, to let Biji sit on the back carrier. I would then seat myself on the bar in front and Kuku would wedge himself in between Biji and Papaji. Thus balanced, and quite comfortable, except for Papaji, we would embark on our trip for the day. On up-slopes I would get down and lighten the load. On really steep up-slopes Biji and Kuku had to get down too. On reaching the picnic spot Papaji always took rest while Biji got the things ready. We would spend the day playing games with Papaji. Biji mostly liked to sit and watch us. When we got hungry she would have our lunch ready for us. The trip back home was similar. The load in the bags was a little light but we would be tired and so it felt the same. These outings were repeated with regularity until my little sister, Bablee, was born.
With the birth of Bablee things changed. We could not fit on the bicycle anymore. Biji tried holding her in her lap a few times, between Kuku and herself, but Bablee would wiggle or start crying. In addition we had to take an extra bag of baby stuff for her. This made it difficult for Papaji to balance and carry all of us. We could have taken a rickshaw but week after week that would become expensive. So Papaji came up with a great solution. Biji should learn to ride a bicycle. We could then buy a second bicycle for her; and between the two of them we would be able to fit everyone. Papaji was ecstatic with his idea. Biji did not like it one bit. As always Papaji won. Biji had to learn riding the bicycle.
We postponed all picnics until Biji had learnt to bike. The weekends now were reserved for teaching her ‘biking’. Papaji guessed it would take a few weeks but it would be worth it. Biji kept her opinion about this to herself. First day they left Bablee and Kuku in my care and asked Kuku to behave. Then they went out to the road in front of our house for the first lesson. We kids stood in the veranda and watched. Biji had decided to wait until it was dark for privacy sake. Papaji held the bike and instructed Biji to get on it. She could not. He helped her by physically scooting her up, all the while hanging on to the bicycle too to keep it from falling. After many trials Biji was finally ensconced on the seat. But she could not find the pedals; her knees were in the way. Papaji could not hold on to the bike and bend down to help Biji with the pedals. So he tried to guide her verbally. He asked her to move her right foot in the general space where the pedal should be and feel for it. She touched it a few times but it would invariably move and slip away. Irritated she asked Papaji to be of some help and hold the pedals steady. Papaji moved one of his legs against the other pedal to prevent them from moving. Biji found the right pedal and with a jerk transferred her weight on it. The other pedal promptly hit Papaji on the shin and sent him reeling with pain. Both of them came down with a thud in a cloud of dust and expletives. Biji was not very sympathetic to Papaji’s ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of pain but kept her opinion to herself. Papaji got up and repeated the whole process again. This time he saved his shin just in time. He asked Biji to find the other pedal too. This was a little easier than the first pedal. Now Biji was all ready and sitting on the bike. But Papaji was tired. So he took a few minutes rest while Biji admired the view from the high seat. Finally when Papaji was ready he asked Biji to start pedaling. Biji, however, had no idea what to do. Papaji had to balance and move the bike while Biji sat motionless on it with fright. They went about fifty feet like that and then turned around. Papaji asked Biji to get down but she said she was just getting the hang of it and said she was ok. Papaji explained, gasping, that he was the one exhausted. So Biji got down; with a loud thud and cloud of dust. They came home walking, rolling the bike between them. Biji was in a better mood than Papaji. Biji did not think there would be any more lessons. Biji was wrong.
The next lesson was a week later on a Sunday. Papaji had rented a lady’s bicycle so it would be easy for Biji to get on. He was only partially right. Biji had no idea how to match her body parts to the corresponding parts of the bicycle. Papaji steadied the bicycle and physically guided Biji on the seat. Then with both the bicycle and Biji leaning heavily on Papaji, the three of them would go for a few yards in a way not even remotely resembling the dynamic act of bicycling. This went on for a few weeks. Then one night Biji happened to push the pedal with some force right when Papaji was trying to transfer the weight from one hand to the other. The bicycle suddenly came to life and took off. Papaji ran after it for a second and then stood there, transfixed, with his hands half in the air. Biji, unaware that Papaji was not holding the bicycle anymore, kept on going for some time till she realized she was by herself. Then she came down with a thud and a screech, still on the bicycle but horizontal now. Papaji ran to her laughing with words of encouragement, hand outstretched in aid, Biji slapped his hand away. They walked home, walking five feet away from each other.
By this time our immediate neighbors had got an inkling of what was going on. They would sometimes come out and gawk. Our immediate neighbor, Vats uncle, tried advising Papaji to leave Biji alone and teach us kids instead. Vats auntie next day softly commented, to no one in general, that old parrots cannot learn new words. This comment bristled even our gentle Biji’s sensibilities. She informed auntie “If I really wanted to I would have learnt bicycling easily. I just believe that it is not a ladylike activity”. Both talked a little about their childhood athletic abilities. One thing led to another, and before we kids knew what was happening, the two of them had challenged each other to a running race. Biji was a little plump and moved with slow grace, as befitted well bred polite women. Auntie was thin and lithe and given to, in Biji’s words, unbecoming nervous outputs of activity. Next day, after the men left for work, the two of them rolled their salwars up by and stood ready on the road, in front of our homes, to prove who was faster. Tara, Vats auntie’s eldest daughter, was given the responsibility to shout – ready, set, go. Poorna and Timmy, Tara’s younger sister and brother, sat with Kuku, Bablee and me, on the side of the road, watching this very strange event happening. Auntie was very confident and loudly predicted her win. Biji, with lips pursed, concentrated on the road ahead of her. Tara gave the order to ‘Go’ and Biji and auntie took off. Biji raced to the end with alarming agility. Auntie tripped on an invisible bump in the road, a few feet from the start line, and bruised her knees. Biji walked back, out of breath, but with a twinkle in her eye. However, as soon as Auntie lifted the salwar to look at her knees, Biji forgot her win. The knees were deeply scraped and bleeding. Auntie had to go to the dispensary for bandaging the wound and walked around limping for days. This took care of the night gawking.
Biji refused to practice in front of the house after this, suspecting nosy neighbors watching from behind the curtains all the time. So Papaji moved the lessons to a nearby road, away from the homes. He also started insisting on daily practice to speed up things. We would sit on a hillock and watch them wrestle through the routine. After a few days Biji started going a short distance by her self. This encouraged Papaji greatly, and Biji too belatedly. Ofcourse, Biji still had to learn how to stop the bicycle and get off. Papaji usually had to be there to help. He tried to teach Biji the knack of descending from the bike but Biji was OK with Papaji helping. One day, to force Biji to learn to stop properly, Papaji let her go instead of running alongside with her. Biji soon found out Papaji’s trickery. She screamed unladylike and had trouble balancing the bike. But all these day’s practice paid off and she did not fall down. Papaji had expected her to fall down and in the process learn to use her leg to break the fall. But Biji kept going. Soon the road sloped downward and she picked up speed. Papaji belatedly ran after her. Kuku and I, with Bablee in my lap, ran after Biji too, trailing Papaji by a few yards. The placid road, of Papaji’s choosing, suddenly came alive with our thumping. Two elderly men, taking their evening stroll, quickly looked back. Startled, they moved a foot or two apart; just in time for Biji to sail between them and alight from the bike by hanging on to their shoulders. We saw the bicycle creen drunkenly to the bottom of the slope and Biji immodestly hanging between two strangers. This sight was too incredulous to comprehend. Papaji sat down in the middle of the road convulsing with laughter. One of the men ran down the slope to retreive the bicycle. Biji marched home, livid with embarrassment and anger.
While Biji was learning to bicycle in the evenings, I somehow mastered the art, all by myself, during the vacant afternoons. This made Biji’s learning to bike redundant. I inherited the bicycle meant for Biji and used it extensively for all my transport. Like going to school, with Kuku in the back; to friends homes with games and dolls in the basket attached to the front of the handle; and of course to the parks for family picnics. Biji sat behind Papaji with Bablee in her lap and I carried Kuku on the carrier behind me on Biji’s bike. Biji and Papaji were very proud of me. Our Picnics resumed as before and there was peace in the house.
Untill Papaji decided he wanted to raise chickens in the backyard.
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Dear Papaji,
This is the birthday present I promised you.
Have a wonderful birthday and I hope you will enjoy the exercise bike that Bablee bought for you from her and me.
Love you very much.
.........Ambi
