On a bright, sunny and busy summer day, the traffic moved as on any other weekday on this particular stretch of road which was also the part of a highway. The traffic however declined in intensity since it was 11 am and the peak rush hour was coming to an end.
There was a time in 1980 when on this road ran few privately owned cars, it was mostly commercial and passenger vehicles. Most people very proudly used their two wheeled vehicles like scooters to travel through the much cleaner and comfortable air of the city.
Dilip’s grandfather, Shivendra Bhatla was also a proud owner of a scooter at this time. The first vehicle of the house and Mr Bhatla’s prized possession. It was maroon in colour. The maroon colour was painted on it later, initially it was Gray.
Mr Bhatla maintained the scooter well and also did his son despite owning a car. There was even a black and white photo of the now late Mr Bhatla and his wife along with the scooter, the photos back then carried a unique form of emotion.
Dilip was given the scooter and now he was responsible for it and on this bright, sunny and busy summer day, Dilip walked pushing the scooter, for it had stopped and wouldn’t start. Without a push start, even the legs had become tired from attempting to start with the kick start.
Dilip was late for office and was looking for the mechanic a passerby had told him about. The scooter had lived its life and was in questionable condition, even the local mechanic had advised to get rid of it, given its parts were becoming more and more difficult to come by, but as time and again pointed out by Dilip’s father, it was an heirloom to be kept.
Dilip couldn’t find the mechanic but another passerby tried to help him mostly by doing nothing technically, but moving the scooter around in different ways and even shaking it once in a while. Dilip was afraid something else might break, but somehow the scooter did start and Dilip after thanking the man, rode it straight home. He was not going to take a risk by riding it to the office.
That evening Dilip decided to have a serious talk with his father about the scooter.
“We need to let it go and sell it,” said Dilip
“Why? It’s only a technical failure. The mechanic will repair it as he always does,” said Mr Bhatla
“The mechanic is going to become one of the wealthiest in the city, given how many times we have to get the scooter repaired. It used to be every other month, but now its almost every other week,” said Dilip
“You are earning now, maintain it. Enjoy riding it. Do you know how many fond memories I have of riding on the scooter with your grandfather? When he grew old, I used to take him around on the scooter,” said Mr Bhatla
“I understand. But have you thought about my memories which are mostly filled with fear that the scooter might stop working anywhere? What about that?” said Dilip and found no satisfying answer and he did not take the conversation further
Dilip started taking the bus to the office from the next day onwards and even walked to anywhere he had to go in the neighbourhood unlike before when he took the scooter everywhere.
Walking was certainly a good addition but Mr Bhatla was afraid that the scooter was becoming more and more abandoned and thus he began riding it around again. He was quite happy, reuniting with the feeling of the past, riding the scooter once again with the continued love.
Everything was fine until one day, when it was a government holiday. Dilip found his mother worried in the drawing room.
“What happened? Did the housemaid decide to take a holiday?” asked Dilip sitting down
“No, she was on time. It’s your father, he had gone to the vegetable market to get vegetables, he is late,” said Mrs Bhatla
“It’s quite far, with very limited parking space for cars, so one has to walk a lot,” explained Dilip
“But he took the scooter, saying it would be more convenient,” said Mrs Bhatla and now Dilip showed signs of worrying.
“I will go and check, I will drive the car there,” said Dilip and as he stepped out of the house, he saw the mechanic walking the scooter in as his father followed, clearly very tired
Dilip knew what had occurred from his own experiences so he chose not to ask. As his father walked closer to him, he looked at Dilip and said, “Yes, it’s time to let go.” And Dilip did not smile even though he wanted to.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Two wheeled Memories
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