Motorcycle

U. A. Kiran By U. A. Kiran, 29th Jul 2012 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/4ubr2mi6/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Short Stories

Motorcycle is a humourous short story about a man who bought a second hand motorcycle and what follows was a tale to share with all.

Purchase of motorcycle

I do not know whether you would believe it or not. However I believe it to some extent. That day a motorcycle came into my life, in all probability, from the left corner. I did not know how it happened. It might be I was feeling jealous of my neighbour, day in and day out, traveling by his motorcycle while I waited for a bus at the bus-stop. He would roar past me, while I would feel bore, waiting, waiting and waiting for my bus. All of a sudden, I decided to buy a motorcycle and finally got a second hand motorcycle. It was then I remembered that I did not know how to ride it. I began to learn to ride and before anybody could understand what I was doing, as I and the motorcycle were an unusual combination, I quickly reached B.M. – Bachelor of Motorcycling. I was thinking of completing M.M. – Master of Motorcycling – and opening a training centre for the juniors.

As expected by all, I came to know that it was not so easy to ride a motorcycle, and experienced some great falls from the motorcycle. Everybody had anticipated me to give up this dream of riding a motorcycle, especially my neighbour who had started to wear sun glasses even if there were no sunlight to avoid. I know I knew what he was avoiding. Encouraging me, my professor who had done Ph.D. said, ‘You would learn something new every time you would fall from the motorcycle.’

He told me the absolute truth. Later I came to know every time I fell, I experienced pains at different parts of my body. Sometimes red blood peeped out of the flesh. Sometimes skipping, jumping out drop by drop or flowing down my body to kiss the earth to be swallowed by it. My blood vanished into the earth here and reappeared to flow with Indian Ocean, I hoped. Nevertheless we stood still in the field and returned home after winning.

The girl

Next day professor said, ‘You have gained enough experience to ride the motorcycle on the main road. Go, brave man, go.’ I looked worried but the professor was confident, exposing his 70mm smile.

I followed his suggestion and tried my best to show all and sundry by the expression of my face that I had full confidence upon myself and was ready to face any danger which might come in my way.

Although I was all alert, the danger struck, most probably from the left corner. Suddenly a dog came before my motorcycle. I turned my motorcycle to an angle of about 40 degree which made the front tyre to go just touching the ankle of a girl; she shrieked, fell to the ground and shrieked, while my motorcycle collided with two bricks, went out of my control, shrieking and throwing me to the ground beside that girl and lay silent. I looked into her eyes while she looked into mine. I thought I would receive good beating from her, with her high heeled shoes. ‘Oh! My god! Save me! Save me! Her shoes have pointed heels,’ I murmured. My whole body with its flesh and bones began to shiver at the mere thought of them. But nothing happened like I had thought. I also turned my eyes from her sharp eyes for there was a great risk of getting hypnotized. My motorcycle did not hurt her much. Blood only peeped out. It had no intention to skip, jump or to flow down her to vanish into the earth. I also told her, ‘I am sorry.’

Love

Next day I again met her. This time there was neither a dog, nor any brick. Her enraptured smile threw me out of my motorcycle to the ground. Blood only peeped out. When she had a splendid opportunity to talk with me, she told me, ‘You have knocked the door of my heart.’ After a brief pause, as I was active in thinking when I did knock, she continued: ‘And I have opened the door’

I had read enough biology but the door of a heart seemed to me a strange fact I had ever come across. She also added, ‘I am in love.’ Almost singing, she repeated, ‘I am in love.’ I wondered she would start to sing the love song from the movie ‘Dhadkan’. But she was not Shilpa Shetty. And I was not Akshaye Kumar. I thought ‘She fell in love with my motorcycle’, as I did not do anything to bring about this type of result. In that accident she liked the delicate touch of my motorcycle. So she did not complain anything.

Smiling and exposing her two broken teeth, she added more, ‘You have not only fallen beside me but also succeeded in making enough place for you in my heart by going into my heart by way of my eyes.’

But I could still remember that I was beside her and had never thought of making a place for myself in her heart. I told her so. But she was not ready to listen to that. I tried to bribe her by offering her an Amul chocolate and simply told her to forget everything. She rejected my offer and surprised me by saying, ‘Amul chocolate is usually given as a gift to someone one loves. I would remember it as your first gift. I would never eat it. I would keep it as your first gift.’

I tried my best to slip out of her hands like a fish caught in the net tries to escape; but I could not. This net was wider than ‘World Wide Web’. Then believe it or not, digest it or not, I found myself trapped in the web of marriage.

The trouble

We had nothing more on earth to do in our leisure than to roam about on our motorcycle. But the motorcycle did not like the sudden admission of a new partner. Whenever we were going somewhere together, my motorcycle would go for some minutes and then all of a sudden it would stop with a roar of unwillingness to go any further. After that it would need the gentle touch of a mechanic to get it move an inch or start. Many times, my wife would curse herself for not having satisfied herself with the Amul chocolate only. ‘I am going to eat it today.’ she had told me once and copied it several times.

Finally it was decided by me that the motorcycle was to be get rid off as soon as possible. But no sensible person was ready to buy my motorcycle. The buyers would come, have a glance at it and turn their face away from it. It was not ugly at all. Poets could chant their best poems about its physique and their imagination could run wild, wild and wild if they were to write a book about it. It was something else that turned off the interest in the customers. On numerous occasions, I endeavoured hard to turn it on, but failed to find its main switch.

Then I had a plan. A brilliant one, I presumed. I kept the motorcycle with the key on it for the whole night thinking that the thieves would strike. I prayed to god and promised to give him personally a packet of Amul Chocolate, if I were successful in getting rid of my favorite motorcycle.

But in the morning I found it still there where I had left it, unmoved and untouched. It seemed the thieves were also afraid to come near it. I lost my temper now. I thought of throwing it down the cliff. It was not a bad idea. But my kind heart would not let me treat it so badly. It was indeed too bad of me to think about it.

The solution

Then my wife, the darling of my heart, while preparing something out of barley, gave me an idea which was brilliant diluted with a little sympathy. She was not aware that I would convert it to an idea when she said, ‘Listen, dear, why don’t you go to the supermarket and buy some things?’ And she gave a list as long as a bamboo tree without any coconuts. Then I realized one would not look for any coconut on a bamboo tree.

I went to the supermarket with my motorcycle and returned without it. I thought while walking home, ‘Bravo! I am so intelligent’. But I was not strong at my heart. That night I could not sleep well as that motorcycle repeatedly came into my dreams.

Next morning I did not take my breakfast as the charming face of my motorcycle was still dancing before my eyes. I even switched off my idiot box which narrated how a motorcycle was stolen from a certain area. Then a police inspector arrived. My motorcycle was with him. First of all he thanked me. When I did not understand the mystery, he stated describing the heroic deed of my motorcycle:

‘We succeeded in arresting a notorious smuggler who tried to escape on your motorcycle while we were after him. The motorcycle stopped suddenly leading that smuggler in our hands. I got your address from a diary found in the box of the motorcycle. Here is your property. It’s fantastic with its problem. Take care. And don’t forget the keys on it while you shop around.’

I was rewarded and got enough money to buy a new secondhand motorcycle. Now what happened to the old motorcycle? Well, I am still trying to throw it out of my life.

Tags

Akshaye Kumar, Bus, Chocolate, Dhadkan, Humor, Indian Ocean, Motorcycle, Shilpa Shetty, U A Kiran

Meet the author

author avatar U. A. Kiran
I am U. A. Kiran, born in Kerala, educated in West Bengal employed in Andhra Pradesh and now in Goa.

I am interested in creativity like writing poems, stories, drawing, novelettes/novels, dialogues/dramas, chalk-shaping, making puzzles and formulea....(more)

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Comments

author avatar David Reinstein,LCSW
29th Jul 2012 (#)

I always related to how happy dogs looked hanging their heads out of the windows catching the wind... Led to LOM (Love of Motorcycles.) However, after 2 bad accidents, I decided to retire my travelling by vehicle into ones with four wheels before the third strike struck!

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