Sufi Shagird's Diary

“Riding fast, tearing the wind, heart pumping loud…louder…faster…just reaching my destination. Pedalling high on gears, splashing water with the screechy sound of brakes, every dumb head in my school watching me while my speed enthusing them. Wearing my school uniform and pedalling my bike…ooh, the feel of red outfit on Michael Schumacher and driving a Ferrari. The bicycle bell ringing loud…louder…faster………”
“Tring Tring”
“5:45 am.”
Why the hell is my alarm clock’s noise similar to my dream bicycle’s horn???
Huff…
“Good Morning.”
With my eyes still half closed, I jumped off my bed and went quickly to brush my teeth, but only in a very slow motion. My mom, dad and elder sister were already awake. Mom making breakfast for me and my sister, dad came from dairy with 2 litres of milk and my sister in bathroom having a bath. Everyone was full of energy. I assume they didn’t have such a thrilling and exhausting dream.
I don’t know I slept or did what while standing in front of wash basin and brushing my teeth that it took me 15 minutes to complete the task till my dad said to hurry up. After my sister, I went in for bathing. Low on energy due to the tiring work done in my dream. Came out, dressed up, and sat on the dining table for breakfast with my sister who was almost done with her breakfast.
6:30 am.
“Tring Tring”
Not the bicycle horn.
Nor phone’s ring
Neither any doorbell.
Twas a rickshaw’s bell.
Then again came the picture of my ride in my dream…a Hero Ranger Swing with 16 gears!!!
Huh…
My dad never believes that driving a cycle for approx two 2 kilometres from our home to my school is safe enough. So he hired a rickshaw-walla who picks me and my sister daily, along with few more students of the same school from my neighbourhood.
Being in 6th standard I think I should be given a bicycle to ride for school up-down trips. But my dad never understood that. At least he can allow for the school buses. But no, rickshaw is more safe and cheaper.
After the sleepy and slow trip on rickshaw, saw the gates of the school, above which it was written on semicircle line “Delhi Public School”. I always asked the rickshaw-walla to stop a little before the gate as it was an embarrassment for me to get off the rickshaw while the others got off from buses.
Never mind. Went inside the school towards my class and my sister towards her class in senior wing. She always took the route which passed through the corridors of my classroom and said good bye when I entered the class.