The first question which needs to be answered is what exactly is baraka. Wikipedia will lead us to a movie by the same name. Although I haven't seen the movie, I do know about it. Baraka, we are told, means 'blessing' in many languages. Majority of the links will lead us to an American by the same name. A little lesser know meaning though, summarizes a rather complex phenomenon. Say, this meaning of the word comes closest to the subject matter at hand- 'a spiritual power believed to be possessed by certain persons, objects, tombs, etc.’

Baraka is a complex phenomenon. All of us, in the course of our life, get so attached to certain inanimate objects which we own that we sometimes start believing that they have life. Say for instance, my mom used to tell me a story about how my brother was so attached to a red towel as a kid that he would never eat his food without the towel in the vicinity. So, every time  we used to go on vacation to our native place, there used to be a check list for must-haves and the red towel used to top the priority list. I have known people who have used the same pen for decades. It is as if the pen becomes a living being with its own spirit. My father, for instance, has been using the same watch for almost 20 years now. Apparently, my grandfather gifted it to him. The Watch though, has rusted a little now, because of disuse, thanks to the advent of the cell phone.

 I plan to buy a bike in about two months. It’s a different matter that I have had this plan for almost an year now. But a poor financial planner that Museman is, the plan never got realised. Hefty losses and petty gains in the share market though, have been realised. Let’s chug along on to our bicycle now.

Moving on, just to reiterate that my Cycle is the only conveyance I have ever owned. In a small town like Guntakal, a cycle is more than enough to meet all our requirements. Let me put it this way, it would just take me 10 minutes to cycle to the farthest movie theatre! Quite clear that a bike would be a pure indulgence. My father bought us a bicycle while I was in 6th class and my brother in 7th. In spite of our vehement protests, a foresighted dad bought us a BSA Deluxe instead of the BSA SLR that we wanted. So, it was with negative feelings that we welcomed our Cycle into our house. I had just about learnt to balance a cycle on a  friends BSA SLR. The cycle being rented in exchange for home made appams.

So, for the first two months or so, I was the pillion rider while my brother got to ride the cycle. I learnt cycling too, bolstered by the support extended by my brother and neighboring kids. First cross-legged ( for the want of a better expression, you would understand the expression if you learnt the cycle on a big cycle yourself, with the leg going beneath the bar on to the other peddle. ) and then, properly and royally seated on the seat. I was an accident in motion while I was on cycle. Slowly, the half kilometer run to school from home became quite a distance. (Our school was just 500 meters away from my home. Infact, if I were tying my lace while the school bell began to ring, which I could hear from my home, I could still reach school on time ) So, I started to take my cycle to school. The first few days I parked my cycle in the parking area, I couldn’t listen to classes at all. My whole mind used to be occupied by thoughts of Cycle and its safety.

Once in a while, I used to take it to my tuitions as well. The tuition too, like school, was half a kilometer away. The first scare came when I left my cycle before the tutuion and came back home. Around 8 in the evening, I remembered that I had forgotten the cycle in the tutuion. Panicked and perspiring, I ran from home to tutuion, taking the shortcut, full of bushes, in a rush to reach the tutuion. I found my cycle there. All alone, in the middle of the road, waiting for his (like pulsar, my BSA Deluxe was definitely male) master.

I mean, there is no reason for my cycle to be loyal to me. I never took great care of him. No oiling. No changing of tubes, until absolutely required, no colorful embellishments, no brakes, nothing at all. Infact, no keys too...for a very long time.

Still, he was loyal to me. The foundations for my movie madness were laid quite early. And the partner in crime was my cycle. Me and my cycle would start from my home at 2:40 to catch the 2:45 matinee and almost always, I would reach the theatre on time to see the titles roll. The cycles stand fella, used to charge Rs 2 instead of the regular Re1. He knew my cycle had no key and it was a secret between the two of us. It had a lock though, but the lock needed no key to be opened. Just a push on the button and the lock would come open.

The second scare to my cycle came when an avuncular neighbor decided to teach me a lesson for my negligence. I had got used to parking my cycle outside my home, bluntly confident that no thief would ever place hands on my BSA Deluxe. So, unaware to me, my uncle took the keyless cycle and kept it in his home. Poor me, and my brother, searched for it for an hour and gave up hopes and returned home, hopeless. Then the uncle miraculously conjures the cycle out of his compound. Did i like the  magic? Far from it.

My faith in my cycle’s loyalty was reinstated. It was always neglected.  Like i said before, not even a proper seat to boast of, no bell, no brakes, no lock, no oil, but it used to serve the purpose. I somehow had great faith in it. It never got punctured when i wanted it most. Unlike the complaints of friends who used to ride my cycle, it always used to give me a smooth ride.

Every time any of my friends used to take my cycle for a ride, they would invariably comment say something about how pathetically maintained my cycle was. And I used to joke with them that even if it were to stolen, the thief would come back and give it to me safely.  Miraculously, this statement of mine turned out to be prophetic.  We will discuss that in my next post, Lost and Found,

Tailpiece: The poets of the world put it very poetically, if you love her, leave her, if she comes back, she is yours... or something to that effect. Came true with my cycle. He came back, looking for his master. It is quite an interesting story actually, and museman promises he will be a littlel more regular with his posts this time around. : - )