A hard-earned cycle and a life lesson

THE exuberance in my voice must have been evident when I rang up my father. I was happy to tell him that I had bought a cycle for his schoolgoing grandson. It was a little expensive, but my son liked it and that was what mattered. My father was delighted to hear the news. Usually reticent, he surprised me with his curiosity when he asked, “Well done! Which make and what colour?” When I said, “Hercules, olive green”, I sensed a pause at the other end. Then he cleared his throat and narrated a story in a measured tone.

He had enrolled for graduation in college. Those were post-Partition days and circumstances forced many people to live frugally. Considering his family’s financial plight, even getting an education was a privilege. Since the college was about 8 km from his village, he mustered courage to request his grandmother to buy him a cycle (his mother had died when he was a child). The plea was that the kutcha village road made it difficult to commute on foot and it also took much longer. The inclement weather added to his woes. His pyjamas got soiled by the time he reached the campus, making him the butt of jokes among his college-mates. He had already undergone that ordeal during high school years. His grandmother gave him a patient hearing and reassured him, but my father was not very hopeful.

A few days later, she triumphantly told him about the breakthrough. She had procured a calf, whose custodianship was handed over to my father. This arrangement demanded that he would raise the heifer. Once it was big enough to be sold as a cow, the money received would be used to buy the coveted cycle. The wise old woman had a look of satisfaction on her face, but the intended beneficiary was confused. His fears were not unfounded; soon, he discovered that it was his job to bring fodder for the new addition to the family, bathe it and take care of it. His brothers and sisters washed their hands of this added burden. Their refrain was logical as they shrugged, “The calf has been procured for the benefit of only one family member. So, he alone should shoulder that responsibility!”

My father recalled, “For well over a year, I lived only to raise that calf into a cow.” His daily onerous trek to the college continued all this while, in the wishful expectation of owning a cycle one day.

That day dawned once the cow found a buyer. My father travelled to Ludhiana to buy himself a cycle. It was of Hercules make and olive green in colour. He was so happy that he did not mind riding the distance of about 40 km back.

He expressed gratitude to the Almighty that his progeny did not have to go through an ordeal for their own olive-green reward. I, too, felt pride in my father’s hard-earned success and the enhanced value of the new purchase. Also ingrained in the story was a cautionary lesson against profligacy.