It all started when I
convinced my dad to buy me a bicycle, that shiny blue one. The usage was
restricted at first although I slowly began to use it and ventured beyond my
street to those around the block. It happened only after the first few rides-
the tyre went flat. Somehow, the blame was on me for what had happened and only
after much beseeching did I finally manage to get it fixed the first time. I
was more careful how I rode thereafter; I avoided potholed roads and only took
the less potholed ones, filled air to the tyres more frequently, kept the cycle
in shade. As time passed, I slowly braved to bicycle to school. But, one day as
I cycled up that road, I had to stop half way puffing and panting- punctured
tyre again. This time I decided to let it be for a while and rested the bike
against the coconut tree in my home. After several fixes, re-fixes, replacing
tubes and what not, I gave up. I just thought it was a problem with the bicycle
itself and blamed it for all the trouble; after all it was ominously named as
‘Devil’ (by the company, not me).
Many repairs were funded by my parents out of pity, but the tyres
just would not stop flattening out, and it became more and more difficult to
ask for help when repairs became more and more frequent. By the end of high
school I had given up cycling altogether as it was more pushing than peddling,
and began walking to school and jogging back home. My bicycle had found a more
permanent place inside my room. A few years into college, I began experimenting
with my mom’s scooter. I had just got my learner’s license and mom agreed to
let me use the vehicle. Since the scoter was not named Devil, I assumed the
tyre trouble would be non- existent or at least lesser. I could not have
assumed worse. To save costs, I ended up removing tyres myself, lugging it to
the shop and then refitting it after repairs. I greased my hands a lot with
that scooter.
Last year, I took an auto in Mumbai. The driver, an elderly kaka,
navigated very efficiently through the morning traffic in the city, giving me
confidence that I’d reach on time, in spite of having started late. It was not
until a fellow auto driver yelled and notified kaka of the flat rear left tyre,
did I realise what could possibly be the hard truth- It was I who caused the
tyre trouble. Poor kaka. The jinx just would not wear off. My dad’s scooter,
usually hassle free, was just what I needed one day, but I could only go as far
as the tyre shop down the Bull Temple road. Maybe I had to consider modes of
transport that have no tyres, like boats or bullock carts. The work doesn’t
allow me to take the aircraft much, thank God for that.
Although it is still uncertain whether it is me who causes tyres
to go flat on vehicles I sit in, there may be other, more probable causes. Bad
roads, for instance. The mending of roads may have been slowed down by our
corporations so that the innumerable puncture repair shops don’t run out of
business. A tyre puncture for you means money for someone else. The impact on
the tyres and the tyre’s wear and tear, both due to poor roads, are mainly what
cause flat tyres. So, it may not be me after all. The next time you see me
lugging myself on the streets, you may stop and ask for a lift.
(There is no moral to this story.)
