Short Story

This Story Is Based On True Events

    • Rajathariga S P,
    • Standard: XI-A,
    • AECS MAGNOLIA MARUTHI PUB SCH,
    • Bangalore.

    • Publish Date: Oct 24 2016 8:28PM
    • |
    • Updated Date: Oct 26 2016 5:15PM
This Story Is Based On True Events

The Boy On The Bicycle (True story)

I was three when I moved to Bangalore.

The first friend I made was the boy who lived on the floor above my house. He was a year older than me but that didn't stop us from becoming friends. I don't exactly remember how we became friends, but once we did, I remember spending hours together at his house. His mom was very kind and sweet. She loved having me over, and I loved spending time with her just as much as I did with Chintu ( his name was Pruthvi, but we all called him Chintu). He was kind of the only friend I had back then. He was also the one who taught me how to speak Kannada.( Correction- The one who taught me how to call people 'Monkey' and 'Donkey' in Kannada.)

When I was five, when I met my best friend at school, Chintu was the first person whom I introduced her too. When I was six, I shifted my house by two streets. Still we spent everyday after school at each other's house, talking nonsense and unintentionally breaking each other's toys. When I was seven, he got a bicycle for his eighth birthday. He immediately came over to my house to show it off. After we spent a few minutes admiring how shiny and cool the bicycle looked, he offered me to give it a try. I told him I didn't know how to ride a bicycle, and also that it looked a little too big for me. I could tell that he was eager to take it for a spin but he also didn't want to leave me alone with no one to play with. So he told me that I could go with him and asked me to take the seat at the back of the bicycle.

From that moment on began our adventures through the various streets of BTM layout. He came to my house everyday with the bicycle. Though he was young he knew every alley and street. We spent hours every evening exploring the various roads, occasionally stopping to rest as he couldn't peddle for long with both our weights to balance. He did try to teach me how to ride, but failed miserably. He came to my house everyday tring-a-linging his bicycle bell. Our evening cycle rides continued for another year.

Then suddenly one day, when I was nine, he stopped coming to my house. I went over to his house a few times but there was no one there. After a few weeks I learned that his parents had got a divorce and that he had moved away some place else with his mother. It was a horrible feeling. I did have other friends, but no one could hold a candle to him. Then after about two months just as I was getting used to his absence and the hours we spent touring on his bicycle, I heard the tringing of a bicycle bell outside my house. I went rushing to the door and to my delight there he was with his bicycle and a wide smile on his face, he greeted me with his usual "do you want to come for a ride?" question in Kannada. We were both equally excited to see each other, I could tell that he had missed my company just as much as I had missed his. He told me he still lived in BTM layout, but his mother had forbidden him from coming to my area as she didn't want him to meet his father.

We spent the evening just as always riding through the various streets, chatting about random things and arguing over who was right. For a boy whose parents had just got divorced, he seemed quite happy. At the end of the evening we both said our goodbyes, and he promised to come over whenever he could and he did. I used to search the road everyday through my window to see if he was coming, my ears straining to hear the sound of his bicycle bell. After a few months his occasional visits stopped as well. He no longer lived in BTM layout. I learned to move on.

Six years later....when I was fifteen, I was walking home back from the library when someone rode past me in a bicycle. I just gave that person a quick glimpse, not recognising at first who he was. The image of that boy in the bicycle kept nagging me as I continued walking, but as hard as I tried I couldn't seem to remember why that face felt familiar. That's when it hit me. He was Chintu. I didn't know if he had recognised me. We both looked so different now, we didn't have the same innocent faces that we once had as kids. But even if he had recognised me and had stopped his bicycle what would we have said to each other? He was my once upon a time friend. The boy who made up a major portion of my childhood memories. The boy who shared with me his goals and dreams. The boy who came over to my house everyday with his beloved bicycle.

Now we both were strangers to one another. Strangers who pretended to ignore each other during those rare moments when we met on the road. We both were comfortable clinging on to memories than actually speaking to one another. The house where we had both once lived in ten years ago still looks the same.

Standing as the sole witness to the friendship that was once shared by the two, now, strangers.


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Comments

Onkarpreet Bhavan Vidyalaya

A beautiful story, indeed. Liked it a lot. One thing is that whenever we write a story, we can always describe the physical looks of the characters. You know, this would create an imaginary figurine of the characters in the minds of the readers. Otherwise, I seriously liked your write-up. Keep up the good work.!

Shreya Patnaik Silver Oaks International School

It is such an amazing story, it literally bought tears into my eyes...I could feel every word up there. P.S I could imagine every road and lane there, ''cause I stayed in BTM once upon a time too.

Vandana Subash City International School Wanowrie

So touching...even I had such an incident recently when a childhood friend of mine called up from Delhi seeing my name in the NIE paper..I really loved your incident,Rajathariga..keep writing..I love your stories!

Hiya Kilam global indian internatonal school

Very touching.........I loved it. Friendship is something that lasts forever. Keep it up!

Sharmeen Khan PADUA HIGH SCHOOL-MANKHURD

Loved your story. A heart touching one indeed. The beautiful bond of friendship is stronger than any other.

saishalini Bethel Mat Hr Sec School

A story that arise emotions while reading it and it also says that friends are always the one who gives happiness for us irrespective of what we are.

Darshil Shah ST. XAVIERS - LOYOLLA -2 LOYOLLA 2

Great story! Liked a lot.

Brenda Marshal PADUA HIGH SCHOOL-MANKHURD

Amazing story...

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