The Rickshawallah

I was on a trip to a small town visiting a friend of mine. From the railway station, I took a rickshaw to the house. It was a small metal half-cage mounted on two rickety wheels. The tyres appeared as though they were inflated when they were manufactured eons ago. Having become so bald and flat enough to get embedded between the rims of the rusting frame, I could understand the rickshawallah's point - that there was no point inflating them.

My father in the year of the Lord 1958, bought a BSA cycle. Sturdy metal frame, shining handle bars and wheels, cushioned seat with a wide carrier at the back and spring activated bell whose 'trink, trink' could be heard half-a-mile away - she was a beauty by any standard. She was the pride of the village because at Rs 75, she was some thing many of the villagers could not even dream of and as a matter of fact, the only BSA in as many villages around. She continued to serve the family for a quarter century more. After using it in my college for over three years, I donated it at the time of my graduation to a junior of mine, free of cost, as he was a bright spark who did not have the means to travel to college by town bus.

Oh, sorry. It appears that I had wandered into my past. The reason was simple - the rickshaw was on a BSA frame that may not be older than ours. Couldn't help the nostalgia. And then, I noticed that there were quite a few additions which I did not have on my BSA. First, there were multicolored strings of chrome-leather ribbons fluttering from the hand grips. Then there was the emerald colored grip itself, with the studs having worn out of usage so much so, that they appeared to be have been part of the handle for millennia. There were then the plastic wraps around the monkey-bar that must have been shimmering with their zari works when they were bought. Things do wear out , don't they? The pride of place of course was the pom pom - good old brass horn with the rubber balloon which when pressed produces 'music' to the ears - pom, pom. pom, pom.

Seeing that I was clad in my jeans and T, wearing a Rayban with a small duffel thrown around my shoulders, the rickshawallah had given me a luxurious seat. He had pulled it out from under the normal wooden plank seat and placed it on top to make my not-used-to-hard-surface-seats a bit more comfortable. He perhaps did not realize that with every bump on the road, the smooth rexine actually slid me off my b....s. But then, who ever expected a spoilt city dweller to be stable?

The simple frame on top with a taught strung canvas for shade was a marvel of engineering in its simplicity. Being a bit more taller than his usual travelers, my head kept getting stuck into the canvas, sometimes blocking my view and sometimes plucking a strand or two off my pate.

Oh, yes I am wandering again. Actually this is not what I wanted to write about. It was about the rickshawallah and my conversation with him. It appears that it has to wait for my next post........