I Kissed A Girl In My Class by Abhilash Gaur Read Free Book Online

spokes missing. 3) Front tyre worn; replace
with rear tyre, install new tyre at the back. 4) Get new brake
shoes. 5) Tighten handle. 6) Remove stand, carrier and mudguards
(only for competition day).
    He chewed on the
pen for a while. Number 6 was a tricky point. His father would
never allow it, so it would have to be done secretly early in the
morning in connivance with the mechanic. He would have to start
from home at least an hour in advance, and how was he going to
explain that? And what if his father came to the shop near the
mechanic’s kiosk to buy bread and found the operation underway? No,
better seek permission and do it.
    7) Remove the bell
(it tinkled all the time if the road was bumpy). 8) Raise the
saddle. 9) Get axles and balls checked. 10) Oiling and
greasing.
    He studied the
10-pointer with satisfaction. A 9-point list would have seemed
amateurish. Another idea came to his mind but he did not write it
down as then he would have to think of four more to make a nice
round number. Besides, the new point was unlikely to be realized.
Manu’s cycle was small, its wheels were small, not baby wheels but
smaller than those on Sharad’s cycle, and the front chain sprocket
was also small, so he had to pedal harder to compete. He would have
liked to replace it with a giant sprocket, like the one Sharad’s
classmate Sandeep had on his bike, but it was unlikely his father
would permit the modification. Papa is so conservative in
everything, Manu thought annoyed.
    He pulled out a
cloth that was kept underneath the seat of their Vijai Deluxe
scooter. Papa used it to clean the scooter and it smelt lightly of
Waxpol polish. He gave the chrome handlebar a gentle rub with it
and was surprised how well it shone. He had never cleaned his
bicycle and felt sorry, not ashamed. I will clean my cycle every
Sunday now, he promised himself. His hand worked rapidly, rubbing
the painted parts first, but the paint was old and had lost all its
lustre, so Manu went after the chrome then. The wheel rims, the
pedal cranks and the seat shaft. He was very pleased with the
result.
    When papa returned
home from work, there was some hard negotiation over tea. “Don’t
get ideas into your head, Manu,” Papa said sternly, “it’s a good
enough cycle to go to school on, and that’s the purpose I gave it
to you for”. And then, turning to Ma, “Why can’t he run in a race
like normal boys? Always has to do something out of the way. And
dangerous. You realize how badly you will be hurt if you fall in
front of the other cycles?”
    “But I won’t,”
said Manu, “I’m really good on a cycle”. “Bah,” said Papa, “how
many months has it been since you rode into that lamppost?” Manu
had lost balance on a turn (he said his brakes didn’t work) and hit
the post. The cycle fell off under him and he was left clinging to
the post while his chin bled. Another time he had gone into a
parallel bars. While he stopped after hitting his chest on one of
the beams, his cycle passed clean underneath. He had rushed home to
inspect the injury. There was blood on his vest from a wide, black
bruise. He cleaned it with Dettol and rubbed Soframycin on it, and
never told anyone about it. It helped that Manu never cried. He had
given up crying after an accident in KG.
    His hurt look
melted Ma’s heart, and she said, “It’s only the essentials he is
asking for, dear. Some oiling and servicing, and maybe a new tyre,
right?” Manu handed papa his 10-pointer, who examined it with
mingled surprise and pride. Fathers feel proud to see signs of
maturity and responsibility in their boys. “All right,” he said,
but struck out points 6 and 7. “Nothing comes off the cycle. You
are not riding to school without a bell or mudguards. You want Ma
to spend even more time on rubbing the dirt off your clothes?”
This, he said with mock anger.
    Manu shrugged and
accepted the deal. He’d been 80% successful. “And you tell the
mechanic to do whatever you need