That Bloody Bike!

[Mursal 58]

On a sultry Singapore, mid afternoon, when the sun is highest in the sky, dominating the land and spreading its rays like an angel’s wing, I fix my bike. Squeaky and squalor, I begin to dismantle the parts on the cheap bike, however, the tools required were too expensive to purchase; I’m left with the scraps of metal piled over the floor in which I will – hopefully – sharpen and use. My father, legs crossed over on the chair, absorbing the star cricketers for India as if it were his homework, looks at the bike, and then stares back at his newspaper. It was all going well until I snapped a piece. 

Examining the error, I lay low in the shade and blatantly stare down, eyes wide, nose narrow, brain activated. I need to fix this bike. How else would I manage to go to school and receive an education? Going to school was half the hassle!

Daydreaming and planning and daydreaming, an abrupt idea shot to my brain, sending waves of triumph across my dehydrated cells. It felt like winning a race. The few screws scattered around me were an immense part of my plan.

Located next to the wheel of the bike, the brake was there. The brake was broken. It did not press on the wheel when I pressed the brake. The brake was a disaster; it sent me flying twice, when I had paramount documents in the most uttermost mint condition, now scrunched up as if a dozen cars had trampled over them. Dreadful!

Every now and then, the booming, roaring noise of motorbike engines reverberating around my eardrums, drifted my focus and persistently slapped my thoughts. I had the urge to swear in Hindi. Swearing in Punjabi, however, was golden. People knew the instant the first word of Punjabi swear left your mouth, it was damn serious.

I continued.

Frustrated, the screws that were dotted around me had not worked. They were too small, never stuck inside the sockets as I intended. Even though I did not have any professional tools, the superglue, drowned in dust and dried blobs of glue, patiently sat beside me. Almost as if it were begging me to use it with its elegant, white colour I grabbed it without thinking twice. This should work. I am screwed otherwise.

Perfecting the last dose of glue onto the wood and screwing it to the bike, it looked horrible; I wasn’t good at engineering. It did the job though: I could ride it.

Emerging from my seat after what felt like hours, I hadn’t noticed my brother sitting on the thin, wooden plank in sullen silence. I had only seen his slipper shuffle slightly from the corner of my eye as I had stood up to test the brakes. I look at him and he says:

“I’ve got a drill and different kinds of screws in my room. Want them?”

At this moment, I was angrier than anything and anyone – my mind was blowing up like a balloon and then popping, several times. After spending so long on this bloody bike, this is what my brother says to me? And of course, I swear in Punjabi for a good while.

[Mursal 58]

Right, before you say *what the hell is this* - I wrote this out of boredom, to trigger my brain in something productive. Give me some feedback though, any minor details, that's what I'm more interested in!

[Person_Random 4,991]

Approved.

Awesome story; it was quite a light and short piece that's both random and spontaneous, hilarious to read. I really liked the tone of the speaker and the entire storyline, really funny and personal. I could definitely relate to the entire plot; my favorite part, the ending, was just perfect. Perhaps the only thing I would ask for is to make it a bit longer, but other than that, it was great. I hope to see you back in the AWS with some more great pieces soon! 

Edits: added/removed some commas.

[Gauss-Hornet 489]

On 10/2/2020 at 9:36 PM, Potato said:

Swearing in Punjabi, however, was golden. People knew the instant the first word of Punjabi swear left your mouth, it was damn serious.

I've lived in Punjab for 5 years, and believe me, this is absolutely true. Despite not knowing the language thoroughly I could somehow grasp each fine detail of the local slang, and it sure sounded as if all the chaos in the world had descended on the person.

Brilliant work, can't wait to see more!

[Venerable 2,967]

Great story!!

As Random said, this story was quite relatable and spontaneous, almost R.K. Narayan style, and I enjoyed reading it. It could have been longer, but this length felt perfect for the story. : D