The Winged Chariot

I didn't realize how time had flown until I retired from the post of a CEO of a multinational company. Now there was no work pressure, meetings, deadlines, or any need to be anxious and tense. A feeling of tranquility enveloped me, as I opened my eyes to the sun on my first day of retirement. After having a light breakfast, I stepped out into the garden. I saw a bicycle in the shade of the mango tree. It was my gardener Chandan's bicycle. It brought back memories of the good old days of my life.

I was born in a very poor family that was living in a rural village. I had to walk a long distance to reach my school. When I was in the fifth standard, my father bought me a bicycle with whatever little savings he had. That bicycle made things a lot easier for me. I fell madly in love with my early morning bicycle rides to the school. The wind used to whisper in my ears as I rushed out on my ride. The immense ecstasy that I felt while riding on my bicycle, isn't the one that I can describe in words. I used to call it 'the winged chariot.'

Time passed on and I grew up. I got admission in a college in the town. I used to stay in a hostel near my college. But I never missed a ride on my 'winged chariot' whenever I came home during vacations. Things started changing when I got a well-paid job in a highly reputed company. Like all others, I too craved success, money, and grandeur. As I turned into a money-making machine, my ties with my 'winged chariot' were broken unknowingly. The bicycle was submerged somewhere among the tides of memory as I went on with the flow of time.

Now years later, as I look at Chandan's bicycle, I feel the exuberance of being reunited with my old sweetheart. I borrowed the bicycle from Chandan as he stared at me in surprise. I interpreted his unsaid words as, 'master must have gone out of mind. Otherwise, why a man, who owns so many expensive cars, would crave to ride on a petty bicycle?' I flashed a knowing smile at him as I climbed on my 'winged chariot' to take a trip down the memory lane.