bicycle days...

when see my kid
cycling at the lawn...
specially on a winter afternoon
by the soft yellow sun
and he pressing the lever
of a bell attached to its handlebar
a curious ring of a bell...a round device
with a cap of shiny silver...
and his eyes...laced by a glitter
of hope...freedom...
in sleepy neighbourhood
an unbroken song...
I also take a road cycling down...
a road before me and my childhood town...

A sleepy afternoon such
slanting my cycle gifted on my birthday
on the strong trunk of a tree...
with seeds having feathers of cotton
-flying in the breeze...
And me standing on the seat
of the bicycle to catch the branch
-the nearest one...performing a balancing act...

Then see myself going out
down a road straight by a wall
of a big factory standing tall...
and a serpentine footwalk
which followed me everywhere...
the sunlit noon...and even after dark...

and I cycled by...
The big sixteen wheeled trailer trucks
parked like stationary blocks of steel containers...
a small shop which sold peanuts
mixed with salt pepper chilli dust...
a bridge with concrete railings with a fresh coat of paint
yellow and red...a big gate standing like a muted saint...
a park with empty seesaws...twin artificial hills...
a deserted shade with a ghostly eerie feel
with broken windows...rusty lock hanging for ages...
I cycle down some forgotten pages...

'cring cring...'
thd bell sounds with glee
and my kid gifts back to me...
my days...one of a kind...
seeped with nostalgia...that only binds...


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