Episode 1 (From Life Events)
Author - Dr. Subhash Singh Tomar
The village road was quiet that evening. The rain had just passed, leaving the earth damp and shining, trees glowing a richer green under the fading blue sky. An eight-year-old boy stood with a bicycle an old, towering thing, far too big for him. It wasn’t just any bicycle; it was the one his father had received as a wedding gift years ago. Rusted here and there, heavy and creaky, but for the boy it was a treasure, a secret key to freedom.
He had recently unlocked the thrill of riding it. Mounting was a struggle one foot on the pedal, the other pushing hard against the wet road, until with a desperate heave, he scrambled onto the seat. Dismounting, however, remained a mystery he had not yet solved. But he didn’t care. I’ll figure it out when the time comes, he told himself, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
The moment the wheels turned, the boy felt as if he had wings. The cold breeze brushed against his face, his heart raced with joy, and the puddle filled road ahead seemed to stretch like an endless adventure.
Then came the twist. Two of his friends appeared, gliding easily on their sleek, brand new bicycles designed for children. Seeing him, they grinned and called out,
“Race with us! Let’s see who’s faster!”
The boy hesitated for only a heartbeat. His bicycle was too big, too old but his excitement was too alive to say no. With a deep breath, he leaned forward and began to pedal furiously.
At first, he lagged behind, the heavy wheels resisting his small legs. His friends laughed, shooting ahead. But then something changed. The old bicycle, once given its momentum, roared like a sleeping giant awakened. The boy leaned into the ride, his little legs pumping, and soon the distance between him and his friends shrank. He was catching up… no, he was leading! Ten whole meters ahead, his heart thundering with victory.
The finish line was close: a rough breaker dug across the road. He pushed harder, desperate to reach first. His front wheel hit the breaker with a jolt...
...and then, everything slowed.
With a crack, the front wheel detached. For a frozen instant, the boy felt weightless, as though he had left earth itself. His hands clutched air, his bicycle diving headfirst into the mud while he floated above it. In a surreal somersault, he saw the world turn upside down trees, sky, road spinning in fragments before his back slammed hard onto the wet ground.
Silence. His face was untouched, but his back burned, scratched raw by gravel. His heart pounded not from victory but shock. He turned to see his beloved bicycle shattered, its front wheel rolling away… rolling, rolling, until it finally lay nearly a hundred meters down the road.
His friends laughed, not out of cruelty but childish amusement at the broken machine. Yet none stepped forward to help. Alone, the boy crawled to fetch the wheel, dragging it back with trembling arms. The bicycle, without it, was too heavy to move. His body ached. His spirit wavered.
Evening deepened. The road grew quieter, darker. The boy sat on the roadside, the wreck beside him, staring into the dusky sky. A knot of fear rose in his chest How will I get this home?
And then, the sound of hooves.
A horse cart appeared, its wheels creaking, the man on it watching curiously. The boy froze. He was shy, his voice swallowed by introversion, but the cart slowed anyway.
“You need help, son?” the man asked gently.
The boy only nodded.
Without another word, the cartman lifted the broken bicycle, placing it in the cart as though it were no burden at all. The boy climbed in beside it, silent, still sore, still shaken. As the horse trotted toward the glow of his village, he looked once more at the bicycle—his father’s old gift, his own first taste of flight—and despite the scratches burning on his back, a faint smile touched his lips.
For in that ride, in that fall, he had not just learned to pedal he had discovered what it meant to rise, to break, and to be carried forward again.
