Pedalling away without a care

Rakesh Kochhar

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One of the most thrilling experiences as a child is learning to ride a bicycle. You feel you are floating in the air. Just a few pedals on a slope and you see the neighborhood whizzing past you. And Chandigarh has been a cyclist's delight.

I remember the time I learned to ride a bicycle, a few months after some of my friends did, in class V. I also recall the thrill we shared with our parents, on being able to cycle without support. When my daughter wanted to upgrade her bicycle and insisted on buying one with a feminine name, it was a huge problem since Hero and Atlas were ruled out. For days, we looked around till we found the only shop in the city selling Raleigh cycles. Years later, our son took us to a fancy showroom on his birthday where we had to cajole him to accept the cheapest cycle available there, which cost nearly as much as my first scooter.

Back in the 60s and 70s, it used to be fun cycling to my school and later to the college. I vividly remember the 4-km dash from Sector 21 to DAV College cutting across the sectors diagonally. I would leave home at the sound of the musical chime which heralded the 8 am news on All India Radio. After overtaking nearly all the cyclists on the way, I would reach the college parking lot in 8 minutes flat, then run to the class room on the second floor before the teacher arrived at ten past eight. Come rain or shine or the December chill, there was no question of reaching late. Today, you can't cover that distance in that much time even in a car.

In the evening, all my friends from the school used to cycle down on a 'geri' route which covered the houses of girls in the class who lived in the neighbouring sectors. There would be pit-stops at our non-cycle owning friends' place to exchange tit-bits.

Both my elder brothers, postgraduates at PU, used to cycle to the university. One of them was quite casual about his possessions. When he had three cycles stolen in succession, father got him a special cycle lock and the new cycle was insured.

Lo and behold! Within a week, the thief struck again, this time stealing the costly pure leather seat which he had proudly got fitted. He had to hire a rickshaw to get the cycle to the store.

An interesting incident occurred when I parked my bicycle outside a confectionery. When I returned after my purchase, I found my cycle missing. Picking up courage after the initial shock as a 12-year-old, I approached the traffic cop manning the crossing opposite Kiran cinema. He graciously agreed to investigate. When he reached the confectionery, my cycle was very much there, albeit a few yards from where I had parked it. It seemed someone had mistakenly taken away mine, and realising his mistake, put it back. What a relief it was, escaping my father's wrath!

An uncle of mine, a school head master was an avid cyclist. While visiting us, he used to bring his cycle all the way from Patiala on the roof of the bus. He would cycle down from the ISBT and visit his friends in the city all by himself even when he was in his 70s. We used to marvel at his initiative and stamina.

Times have changed with faster, mechanised modes of transport having overtaken the simple bicycle. Nowadays, this healthy habit is the domain of only those who can't afford a motor bike or a car. The rich go to the gym to cycle. Things may change though as the Chandigarh Administration is laying cycle tracks all over the city and has started rent-a-cycle facility, like what is prevalent in the US and Europe.

(The writer is Professor of Gastroenterology, PGIMER)