Cycling Sensibilities - 1
This was an incident which happened in July last year, but it left an impact on me (plus was a learning experience of sorts) and hence is worth repeating here.
Today in the morning while on my cycle run, I came across a lovely sight. I had just gone ahead of Malhour station on a cemented village road running parallel to the train tracks, the sky was overcast with a fine misty rain falling. From a distance I could see two girls on their way to the school on a small bicycle, and along side was a big dog keeping pace with them. It was a white dog with light brown patches, almost as tall as Alex and just trotting along with the girls. My heart swelled with emotions and it reminded me of Hachi as well Aslan, the lion in Narnia. A dog protecting his "family" and escorting them all the way to school. So I passed them and proceeded ahead. After a short distance the road came to an abrupt end and there was a muddy, wet dirt path ahead. I turned back to go to Malhour station. The trio of girls and the dog were still on the way at a distance ahead of me. A pair of street dogs came to fight with our hero but he continued to trot with the girls and after he gave them a growl they changed their minds. But he did stop for a moment for the mandatory butt sniff inspection by the pair of dogs.
By this time I had caught up with the girls. They were in white shirt, maroon skirt and the signature two oiled pony tails tied with red ribbons. The elder one would have been 10-11 years old and the pillion a couple of years younger. So I smiled and asked the girls while riding alongside them "kya woh tumhara kutta hai?" and the elder one whispers "Nahi". And at this moment the younger one turns around to check on our dog and says in panic "Didi, jaldi chalao, woh aaraha hai!"
I realised that if I hadn't spoken to these girls I would have gone back with that image out of an Enid Blyton's novel of a pair of young girls riding on a bicycle with their faithful dog, and here they were so scared of him. He was a good dog though and meant them no harm.
After I pedaled away from them another thought that came to my mind was that such a scenario in any other place could also have resulted in my being lynched by a mob of unknown faces. Here was I in an alien garb of helmet, specs and shorts, riding a cycle in the middle of nowhere, accosting two young girls, first crossing them and then coming back and talking to them. We do live in dangerous times.
I had a realisation that we hear these news of people being killed or being grievously injured as suspected child lifters, but we never hear of the people who were thrashed and let go by the same mob on different occasions. It's only when someone finally dies that it becomes news. No one knows how many poor unsuspecting victims would have been physically and mentally brutalised, how many maimed or left with deep scars. That part never comes in the statistics.
Today in the morning while on my cycle run, I came across a lovely sight. I had just gone ahead of Malhour station on a cemented village road running parallel to the train tracks, the sky was overcast with a fine misty rain falling. From a distance I could see two girls on their way to the school on a small bicycle, and along side was a big dog keeping pace with them. It was a white dog with light brown patches, almost as tall as Alex and just trotting along with the girls. My heart swelled with emotions and it reminded me of Hachi as well Aslan, the lion in Narnia. A dog protecting his "family" and escorting them all the way to school. So I passed them and proceeded ahead. After a short distance the road came to an abrupt end and there was a muddy, wet dirt path ahead. I turned back to go to Malhour station. The trio of girls and the dog were still on the way at a distance ahead of me. A pair of street dogs came to fight with our hero but he continued to trot with the girls and after he gave them a growl they changed their minds. But he did stop for a moment for the mandatory butt sniff inspection by the pair of dogs.
By this time I had caught up with the girls. They were in white shirt, maroon skirt and the signature two oiled pony tails tied with red ribbons. The elder one would have been 10-11 years old and the pillion a couple of years younger. So I smiled and asked the girls while riding alongside them "kya woh tumhara kutta hai?" and the elder one whispers "Nahi". And at this moment the younger one turns around to check on our dog and says in panic "Didi, jaldi chalao, woh aaraha hai!"
I realised that if I hadn't spoken to these girls I would have gone back with that image out of an Enid Blyton's novel of a pair of young girls riding on a bicycle with their faithful dog, and here they were so scared of him. He was a good dog though and meant them no harm.
After I pedaled away from them another thought that came to my mind was that such a scenario in any other place could also have resulted in my being lynched by a mob of unknown faces. Here was I in an alien garb of helmet, specs and shorts, riding a cycle in the middle of nowhere, accosting two young girls, first crossing them and then coming back and talking to them. We do live in dangerous times.
I had a realisation that we hear these news of people being killed or being grievously injured as suspected child lifters, but we never hear of the people who were thrashed and let go by the same mob on different occasions. It's only when someone finally dies that it becomes news. No one knows how many poor unsuspecting victims would have been physically and mentally brutalised, how many maimed or left with deep scars. That part never comes in the statistics.
Comments