I found an old diary today. 1996. Where my handwriting is round and wobbly. On going to today’s page, I discovered that I’d learnt to ride a cycle on this very day! What I’ve written there is quite hilarious. But that is one day that is still etched in my memory.
I had thrown all kinds of tantrums and finally, on a Saturday evening, my parents had bought me a red bicycle. The next morning, dad had woken me up early to teach me how to ride. He was holding the handle as well as the seat and kept yelling at me to look forward. Me, being the not-so-compliant kid, kept on looking left, right and back…but never in the right direction!
After almost two hours, I learnt to balance and could manage to look ahead without being distracted. Dad had slowly let go off the handle but was still holding on to the seat and running behind with me. I told him to let go, very confidently. He did the same. I rode for a small distance without him and looked back to show him how well I was doing and bang! Straight into the wall!
My knee was hurt, and my confidence, shattered. The only thing I wanted dad to do was to pick me up and go home. Instead, he put me back on the bicycle and made me ride it. I wanted to cry out loud. Just couldn’t. He held on to me till he was sure that I’ve got it right. And before I knew it, I was all on my own. I looked back for a second to see him smiling at me and I rode on J
I learnt a very important lesson that day which I have even written in my diary at the end (in capital, bold letters!) – NEVER GIVE UP!
No comments:
Post a Comment