My Turn

The boy, aged about 10 was crying; less from the pain, and I suspected, more from humiliation.

The policeman tightened his grip on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed before barking.

“tell us. You stole the cycle or not? I can see it in your eyes. How many cycles you have stolen so far? If you don’t tell, I have my own way of finding it out.” The policeman squeezed the arm and boy winced in pain.

I was sure that the boy had his own reasons for taking away my son’s cycle from the compound; he was definitely not a thief, I reckoned.

The policeman released his grip, took out his lathi, and raised it to beat the boy.

I stopped the policeman and spoke. “Sir, the boy is not a thief. He doesn’t look like one.”

The policeman looked at me and smiled cynically. “how many cycle thieves you have seen Sir? You speak as if you are the policeman?”

Why look elsewhere, I myself have stolen once; I was about to say but looking at the heavy set burly policeman, refrained.

My mind raced 30 years, into the past.

The college canteen, as usual, was full. Panche, my friend shouted to the server who was being harassed by one and all.

“Guru, five tea urgently.”

Guru, the boy who doubled as both tea maker as well as tea server looked at Panche angrily and shook his fist.

“What’s hurry? Let him bring when he has time. Poor fellow, he is already overworked. We have plenty of time; still, 3 periods are there for us to bunk.” I said and looked at others to start the main agenda for which we had bunked the class and assembled in Mamu’s canteen.

Donne looked at all of us thoughtfully even as lines on his forehead deepened and started.

Before that, let me introduce all of us.

The five of us have been friends for over 12 years; right from our school days but none of us ever called each other by our real names.

Panche -meaning dhoti in Kannada – was one of them; he always wore white dhoti at home from a young age. Kulla – meaning short – was me as I was shortest amongst the five. Then there was Lambu – he was almost 6 feet tall. The reaming two were called Donne - the fat one and Sanakla – the thin one, though they were twins.

Sanakla was younger as he was born first. We were told exactly two seconds before his elder brother!

Donne started.

“All the wealthy guys are planning a trip on their motorbikes to Nandi Hills. We should also go on our cycles and beat them; we should reach before them.”

There was a clear divide between the haves and the have-nots in our college. We the middle-class guys, who rode on our cycles were sneered and looked down  by the haves; hence the talk of making them lose the race to Nandi hills.

Panche looked crestfallen and spoke in a low voice. “Count me out, guys. Anyway, I don’t have a cycle like you all. It is one thing to come to college on doubles. But we can't go doubles to Nandi; it is too far and the roads are too steep.”

I looked at the crestfallen friend and put my hand in my pocket and removed all the money I had.

It was 25 rupees. My other friends understood what I was trying to do and did likewise. That’s why we're friends. No need to explain everything to everyone.

The total was just 90 rupees.

“So what if we cant buy a new one? We will either hire or buy a third hand – cheaper than a second hand!” I said.

Panche looked at me and shook his head and spoke in an apologetic voice.

“I don’t think we can ride on the old cycle till Nandi hills. You guys have gear cycles. You will either reach early or have to needlessly wait for me on the way. No. This time, you guys go.”

The four of us looked at each other and shook our heads negatively even as Sanakla spoke; “No Panche. Either we all go or we won’t.”

Suddenly, an idea struck me.

Smiling broadly at the brilliant idea I beamed even as I spoke.

“Guys, this Nandi hills trip is all about revenge against those money bag guys righ

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t? I heard them speak yesterday afternoon that some of them who don't have bike but come to college by gear cycles will all be leaving their fancy cycles in college and doubles on the bike. They will come back to college only on Monday morning by bike. So, we can steal, sorry, take one of the geared cycles and just put it back by Monday morning. Anyway, Panche comes early even by walking. It shouldn’t be difficult for him to come early and deposit the cycle back. Our Lambu is an expert in picking up the locks. Right, Lambu?”

Lambu smiled and put up his thumb.

Everyone clapped loudly at my brilliant idea.

Thus we stole, sorry, took one of the fancied geared cycle and Panche beaming from ear to ear rode in style, ahead of us!

We enjoyed the journey and had a wonderful time on top of the hills. And yes; we did beat the money bags as we left very early and reached much before them.

The Nandi trip was memorable – only till Monday morning.

By the time I reached the college, there was a large gathering and I was shocked to see a policeman holding Panche’s hand and twisting it and barking. “tell me how many cycles you have stolen till now? If you don’t open up your mouth, we will take you to the station and use our airplane method. Do you know what it is?”

While Panche pleaded not guilty, the owner of the cycle, the rich classmate whose cycle Panche had taken, was urging the policeman to break Panche’s legs.

Here is what had happened.

Panche, promptly took the cycle on Monday morning to put it back in the same place only to discover, the servant of the boy whose cycle we had taken, searching for his master’s cycle.

The minute he found out Panche was riding it, he shouted; panicking, Panche started to go out of college making the servant conclude that he had just stolen the cycle and was getting away.

We persuaded the policeman and the owner of the cycle, our classmate, by pleading with him to let Panche go by telling them the truth.

All our pleading fell on deaf ears and finally, we promised the owner of the cycle in front of the policeman that we will bring 300 rupees as a fine for taking the cycle for two days without informing, at the earliest.

I came back to the present and looked at the boy who was in tears and told the policeman to let the boy go.

My son, whose cycle it was that was taken away by the boy looked at me and spew fire from his eyes; “how can you let a thief go, daddy?” he questioned.

The boy who was till now crying silently opened his mouth and spoke.

“Uncle, I had no intention of taking your cycle permanently. I am working as a newspaper boy and because I don’t have a cycle, only a few households are allotted to me; more roads are given to another boy who has a cycle. When I came to put today’s newspaper, I saw that the cycle was not locked. So I took your cycle just to show it to my boss that I too should be given more houses as I also have a cycle that way I can get more money every month. He agreed. I was bringing back your cycle when your son caught me. Uncle, I am ready to pay the fine. Please tell me how much, I will pay it in monthly installments”

I looked at the young boy and said, to the dismay of my son and the policeman; “You can have the cycle for yourself. I don’t want any money from you, but, you must promise me one thing. When you grow older and start earning money, ensure that you donate a cycle to a poor needy boy like you. Will you do it?”

The boy smiled, for the first time and spoke. “Uncle, I promise you I will donate not one but two cycles to boys like me when I grow up.”

My son was aghast as it was his cycle that was being donated.

I held his hand and said, “Son, you always wanted that imported geared cycle right? Let's go today and buy it. But for now, let the boy take your cycle away.”

My son smiled and waved his hand even as the boy, grinning from ear to ear, sped away on his new possession sounding the bell loudly!