Spokes on the wheel of life

Bumps every few meters bespoke of a genuine pledge to plunder the funds budgeted for the maintenance of the road. An hour of potholed driving to find a parking lot was long enough to bring home some understanding of the economics of demand, need and supply. All matters of mind have a short span, and the present one ended abruptly as I brushed my new car against a pillar of the parking lot to earn some sincere scowls from cabbies idling around.

After assessing the gravity of damage, somewhere in the inner crypts of cerebration and explanations, I cursed myself for the overconfidence in my driving skill. On return, a flat tyre jeered at my misfortunes for the day. The realisation came to add itself to life’s experiences and got imprinted on my advisory repository as to why a personal car should have small sized wheels unless one has shoulders as broad as the tyre. Replacing the flat tyre left me sweating and breathless. Back at the wheel, I remembered all the wheels in my life.

Mother’s spinning wheel was the first one I fiddled with, much to her chagrin. Spindle with a whorl aka Takali was another, I would make a mess of. Fascinated much by the grinding wheel of the household ‘chakki’, it was one more I always made a mess of.

Worn-out tyres were another royalty, they were large-sized but the narrow version that came next. It provided its last glimpse a few years ago when I saw kids taking turns at honing their skills in pushing it at breakneck speed. Steel wire turned into a perfect round was a poor cousin. Struggling stone caging of stream banks lost some of its strength, whence from this piece of wire was stolen.

‘Gadda’, a personal pushcart, was an alluring acquirement. Finding a sandstone disc of about six inches diameter for the wheel required a long hunt, and once created a perfect hole in the centre of this disc was always a joyous moment. Green bamboo made for other parts of this contraption. The ‘Gadda’ romance lasted a few summers till age decided against further indulgence.

I was elated when I came to own a bicycle. Many years later, a scooter announced that I had arrived in life. And the first car that I booked, demanded full payment in advance, much before the EMI era!

Issues that now prompt me into abstract attention, like potholed roads or a flat tyre were amiss with wheels of childhood, and when that in that bliss of reminiscence my temporary annoyance vanishes!