How The Years Sneak Up On Us (A True Life Story)

Today is my elder brother's birthday. He is a Libra, like all Libras he is a nonconformist, likes outdoors and hates loudmouths.

I used to get some deserved beatings for being such a loudmouth. It was just like yesterday when we used to fight over the simplest or craziest of things. For instance, who has the right to ride the bicycle. Who sleeps on the biggest bed, who has the right to finish father's food, he always has some left, for some strange reason, his food seemed to be more delicious, or so it feels to us.





But like all fight between brothers, it is for only a few hours. Don't you want to live in such a world? A world where you can fight in the morning and be best of friends in the evening. The world where you could be feeling annoyed with your brother but when a stranger tries to mess with him you are right there by his side.

Life happens in the midst of all the drama and going on. Days pass into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. Those things that seemed larger-than-life pales into insignificance. You only laugh at it when you remember it.

I still remember like yesterday, my craziest wish as a 10-year-old to own a bike. I used to own one as a 4-year-old; the bike suffered. I rode it in every space possible, almost driving my mother crazy with worry that I may kill myself.

The wish to own a bike led me to my first transatlantic correspondence. My father's friend, who was his roommate too in the university, traveled to the USA. He is a professor of art in one of the universities in the USA. He has a tradition of sending him postcards every year. Those postcards are works of art. His handwriting was a delight to read.

My father refused to buy a bicycle for me. My mother was relieved my bicycle was broken. At least, I could stop my suicidal riding stunts :)
She was the last to make my dream of owning a bicycle come true. I decided to take my fate into my own hands and try to get a bicycle. What better way than to write my father's friend in the USA!

Doorways inevitably open for you to step through, and every choice you make can be a creative act toward realizing your goals and dreams.

But first I have to get his address without letting my parents know what I was doing. That was the easy part.

I got the professor's postal address off of his many postcards that he sent to my father which he kept in his reading desk drawer.

Now is the time to write a letter that is good enough to get him to send me a bicycle. I know he was a professor and professors are highly educated individuals. So I was out to impress. I borrowed the old Oxford English Language dictionary and sneaked off to the school to write an award-winning letter for the bicycle of my dreams.

I could not now recollect the whole content of the letter, but I made sure to include lots of big vocabulary in it. I could only recall one word because it made an impression on the professor. The word I could remember to this day was "ameliorate"; which means to make a bad or unpleasant situation better. I told him that buying the bicycle for me would ameliorate the constant walk to school. The school is less than a kilometer, but almost every boy rides to school on a bicycle. At that stage, I am willing to say the bicycle would stop World War 3 :)

After the letter is written, I had to get an envelope and somehow post it. These two things require money. In my desperation, I made an envelope and used gum extracted from one of the cashew trees that could be found everywhere in our school to seal the letter.

Now posting the letter is one that nearly crippled the mission. But luckily for me, one of the people in the post office is my mother's good friend who I always run errands for. When I told her how important it was that my letter gets posted, she agreed and paid the postal fees for me. I was ecstatic when she did that. Now the wait begins, every day I await the news of the bicycle.

Did I get the bicycle? No, I did not. Not that the professor did not get the letter. He did, he bought the bicycle. He contacted his friend, my father, who I expressly told him not to contact. Lol. My father told him not to send any bicycle. Well, there goes my dream of a bicycle.

I remember all those events with great nostalgia. The years have gone by, my father is no longer here. His friend is still in the USA. He is still teaching art which he loves. He still sends cards. How about me and my bicycle dreams? I am no longer that boy who dreams of shiny bicycles. I still have dreams of other shiny things. Boys would always love their toys <3

Happy birthday, brother. May the best of today be the worst of your tomorrow.

@greenrun ....still running :)

Images Courtesy: 1,2.