The best time to day dream is while biking. Let me be more specific. The best time to day
dream is when you are riding your bike from Vidyanagar to Baroda after a week’s tryst with college studies. The road home seems like the best way to unwind the past week’s thoughts and focus them on the road ahead. It gives shape to the idea that one is actually moving ahead - moving ahead to do something worthwhile. Yes, something worthwhile. Something like going Home. The “Going back home” feeling is just amazing. One would want to get back home as soon as possible. But then, there still is that road ahead. It just stares at you through your helmet’s blurry plastic shield. It just stares on and asks you to take turns as and when required. What’s more, it even imposes speed limits! Some of the limits cannot be ignored. Most are respected. Some have to be ignored though – Well, isn’t it fair?! We need to get home on time, right?!
At times, the road seems to create a lot of distractions to stop you. It houses many vendors selling some really good stuff. There are tea stalls, food stalls, little shops which sell things like key chains etc. which are relatively worthless yet priceless. But the road is broad and keeps on staring. It asks you to go on. It whispers never to halt. It expects your bike to be filled to F when you start. It does have reserves on the way, but it appreciates the biker who uses them frugally. It does allow a breakdown, but cannot permit a pile of machine on its body. The road must remain clean. Many are following. Most shall pass. ALL must go through.
Why would this road, then, be the best one to day dream on? Is it not dangerous? It has taken lives before. Though this road is committed to serve, it serves too well at times. It paves the biker’s way to either perdition or to the heavenly chamber. But the biker is not worried. He needs to go home. He deftly handles his bike. His adroit hand skillfully struggles with the accelerator. He jumps over pebbles and skids over sand dunes. He is covered with dust. His blurry helmet reveals more darkness than light. The hazy lights up ahead mark the arrival of unknown vehicles. The biker must either allow them to pass or overtake them without much ado. Either way, all that he CAN do is move ahead.
The evening sets in. The biker gleefully watches the sun set over his right shoulder. It is now time for the day to end. Tomorrow is a new day. The wind has caught a chill and makes the biker feel the coldness it has acquired. The biker is reluctant. He denies all the sensitive absurdities that force him to take a stop. He may not have tea. All that he MAY do is move ahead.
And then he sees the dim yellow shine of the city area. The biker rejoices as he encounters familiar sights. The moist evening air is not so cold anymore. It is filled with warmth and lovingness. It is filled with happiness. He knows he may pass fuel stations now without checking his meter. He knows he may do away with his age old helmet. He knows that now he may speak what he dreamt of all day long. He is back. Now, all that he SHOULD do, is Stop.
