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Bye, cycles!

It is not often that the metropolitan media pay any attention to cyclists on the road. This, to a certain extent, was rectified by a recent write-up in the Times of India which carried a by-lined local report on the subject. Bombay had 150,000 bicycles on the road. Those who rode them were often envied by others. The cyclist wormed his way through thick traffic, did not have to use fuel or pay taxes and could not be blamed for creating any sort of pollution. Though Bombay's cyclists often ignored traffic signals, they were involved only in 379 traffic accidents in 1997. That was nothing compared to accidents involving other kinds of vehicles.

But who uses bicycles regularly in the city? Some of the boys and girls ride them to school. In the city, it was only the peons employed by various commercial firms who made use of bicycles. Of course, media-hungry politicians and ministers had themselves photographed cycling their way to the offices while trying to show the people how 'fuel-conscious' they were. This enthusiasm disappeared once the mediapersons and photographers went away and then it was back to airconditioned limousines.

But I am happy that a leading newspaper like the Times devoted space to cyclists. Whenever I visit Pune, Ahmedabad, Nagpur or Bangalore, I am amazed at the number of bicycles on the road. Let us admit it, Bombay is not a bike-conscious city. It cannot be, in view of the distances within the city and the number of vehicles on road. Old-timers in the city told me that some 30 to 40 years ago more people used to travel around on bicycles.

To a motorist, the cyclist, darting in and out of the heavy traffic is a perennial nuisance. Some years ago, the autorickshaw I was travelling in Cochin turned turtle trying to avoid a cyclist who veered abruptly without giving any signal. I was caught under the rickshaw and was badly bruised. Fortunately there was no spilling of the fuel. In the meantime, the irresponsible cyclist blithely rode away, unaware of the commotion he had caused.

Yet I had a soft corner for cyclists. After all, I was one for nearly 20 years. Initially, working in Ahmedabad, I used my brother-in-law's bicycle, which he had abandoned after marriage. But when I got my first job, I saved enough money to buy my own bike. This was done after a detailed market survey and advice from friends who were fellow cyclists. Some of them recommended 'Raleigh' and 'BSA' brands as the best, but they were way above my budget. 'Hercules' was okay, but it was used mostly by milk vendors. Since my budget provided for the cheapest in the market, I had to be satisfied with an 'Eastern Star'. The price? Rs 140.

But it served me well. From home to the university campus, from there to the office, then back home, to the club where I had my meals and then all over the city. I cycled around 15 to 20 miles daily and quite enjoyed the experience. While spending so much time on the bicycle, you came to regard it as something with 'life'. Occasionally, you talked to it, encouraged it to move fast and put flowers on it on Dusserah day. The bicycle became an inseparable companion.

One fine morning, the 'Eastern Star', which I kept locked on the verandah outside my single room, was missing. Someone had cut the chain and taken it away. It was a jarring experience. Police complaints did not work and it was difficult to move around the city where bus services were erratic. I had to get a replacement. Throwing caution and economy to the winds, I withdrew all the savings from the post office. Well, this time it was a 'Raleigh' green bike, for which I paid an impressive Rs 210. I double locked it and kept it inside my room at night.

In the early 1960s, scooters were still a rarity in Ahmedabad. The rich drove around in cars, the not-so-rich used bicycles. By this time, I was a lecturer in a local college and wore a suit during the winter months. Was there something funny in riding a bicyle wearing a suit? I did not think so. In fact, many of my colleagues in the college did the same. It was part of the campus scene.

Since traffic was light in those days, the police were on the alert for erring cyclists. Anyone who carried 'doubles' was caught and fined. It was the same for those who cycled without a lamp at night. Cyclists had to pay road tax to the municipal corporation. That was a nuisance. But there were plus points too. The 'Raleigh' travelled like a dream. In the films of those days, the heroes always rode bicycles while romancing heroines. The heroines, too, were veterans in the exercise. Shubha Khote was a champion cyclist in Bombay university before she joined the films. Occasionally, I had the good fortune of cycling along with attractive women friends. Sometimes, I was tempted to burst into romantic songs, but reminded myself that actual life was far removed from the celluloid world.

I tried hard to ride as often as I could with the girl who was later to become my wife. This was risky business as the elders in her family frowned upon our romance. But once or twice a week, the wonderful bike rides did materialise and added zest to my life. The bicycle remained a part of my life till I got married. I was then a journalist and had begun using a scooter. It was easier riding with a girl on the pillion that way.

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