An Epitaph to My Pal, My Pulsar

In the time of pandemic, my friend parted

Today a part of mine was seperated from myself. My bike, my pal - today I handed him over to a different owner. He was not just a stead for me, he had been a friend over the roughs and smooths of my life in this decade. He defined much of what I am today and together we explored many pristine places like Bundwan, hills of Ayodhya, Bokaro, Jamshedpur and so many other places. He also saw my transition from a bachelor through a husband to a father. Inspite of being my first love, he never felt jealous of my wife when she used to embrace me on his back. That's what disinterested love is all about. He made me learn the dynamics of riding. For him only my article was featured in the reputed 'Bike' magazine.

After the car came, the relationship somehow mellowed and I was the one who was to be blamed. I failed my bike. He never failed me. In the daily drudgery of life, the romanticism evaporated. The change of the city somehow killed my passion. Purulia beckoned me with wide vistas to roam and ride, to ruminate and romance. Life in Krishnagar is much too hectic and busy to say to my pal: "Let's go dear, let's munch some miles and jerk this depression off." Yes, he relieved my stress in Purulia. Whenever I felt dejected, I used to clench the throttle and off went the depression in a trice.

The urban ennui smeared my heart with the sludge of household and mundane affairs. I espoused my car, my camera but I forgot my friend - my bike. Well, I took good care of him and never missed his periodic health check up. But I forgot to talk to him. I treated him as a bike and not as a friend. Perhaps so, he was hurt. His mind deteriorated. He began to show some symptoms of senility out of loneliness. But I never cared. Men are traitors, machines are not.

Today, when the time came to bid him adieu, all of a sudden, I felt very guilty. I felt how much I would miss him! My dad was running about for the necessary paperworks, but I was somehow off. All the memories were thronging in my mind and my vision was getting blurred. He was standing very quiet in a corner, as always, dumb, never complaining a word about the injustice I had done to him for years. I think he was very gloomy to leave me. Finally when I handed the keys over, my voice chocked. I just said, "Please take good care of him." And then I returned home.

I'll never see him again. He will always be the embodiment of my persona.

Miss you friend. Don't take me amiss. You might have been less cared for, but never forgotten.