Bicycle, Candle and Poems

As soon as we learn to quickly lift our two little feet, we fall in love with speed. We start running. We crave even more speed, and that’s when we meet our first real companion, the bicycle. Swinging a leg over it, we get obsessed with reaching from one place to another in the shortest time possible. As we pick up speed, the feeling of the wind against our face feels amazing. It’s the first taste of freedom and independence, and the cycle becomes our true companion.

When we push ourselves up a steep climb, using every bit of our strength, reaching the top feels like a proud victory. And the downhill ride after that? It feels like a gift from nature itself, the thrill of speed, the rush of wind through our ears, and the sheer joy buzzing in our heads, it’s just something else!

My memory of camping is about bicycle, candle and poems…

Few years back, a few friends who were just as crazy about cycling as I was, decided to ride from Pune to Lohagad. We planned to leave the bikes at the base, climb the fort, stay overnight, and head back the next day. After checking the oil, air, and making sure the cycles were in perfect condition, we set off towards the fort. Amidst the traffic, we had a friendly race about who would reach first, and eventually made it to the base.

Leaving the cycles to rest, we started the trek up. Full of excitement, we climbed to the top. Lohagad is so beautifully built that no matter how much you take it in, it never feels enough. By evening, we reached a cave on the fort to spend the night. Back then, Lohagad wasn’t as crowded as Sinhagad, so it was just our group there. After eating the food we had carried, we settled down to listen to the sounds of the night, fireflies flickering around us, bats fluttering, faint sounds drifting up from the village below. Above us, the stars stretched across the sky.

Suddenly, someone lit a candle, and the whole atmosphere changed. Everyone gathered around the small flame with their notebooks, books, maps, and sheets. We started talking about the fort, its map, the great Shivaji Maharaj and his brilliant tactics, reading out monologues from “When Raigad Wakes.” Slowly, it turned into a poetry session.

We had brought along a book called Bolgani, by poet Mangesh Padgaonkar. We read a poem titled, 

“Tell Me How to Live…” As each line was read aloud, Keeping the book aside was no longer an option.  

We read further, so many amazing poems one after another carried us deeper into the night, until we reached the poem *”Still, we must live in this world, still, we must gather our broken selves…”*  

By then, all of us had tears in our eyes. Even today,that camp, friends, and memories associated with the books comes alive before my eyes.

Some times it’s so true to be said to such great literature, “It has given us so much, so much… that you made us human.”