Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} The Final Fun   “Check the pump.” Roshan said looking the front tyre of my bicycle. I knelt down and pressed the front tyre in between my thumb and the index finger. “It’s ok.” I replied. The cycle ride was about to begin with three rickety bicycles and three of us, the riders.   Three days before our SLC ended up, and we three gathered at Sujan’s home to resume our frequent table tennis session that had been halted for a while due to the ‘ever-exaggerated’ SLC exam. An old wooden bed stood at a corner of Sujan’s veranda. Covered with a hand loomed mattress, it served as a seat for visitors. But, for us it served as a perfect table tennis board considering its height, width and the smooth and perfectly arranged wooden planks. Queuing up four bricks in a line, parting the length of the bed in two halves, would make up a net. It was Roshan’s count and Sujan and I were on the play.   “Nice shot!” Roshan applauded as Sujan had a quick back hand shot and the ball fell onto the ground hitting me on the forehead. After that, there was a short laugh for a moment.   “Aren’t you two bored playing table tennis?” Roshan asked in the middle of the count.   “Everyone feels the same, when they are on count.” I replied and hearing that Sujan giggled.   “No, I mean why not to do something new.” Roshan said.   “Like what?” I asked, serving the ball.   He thought for a moment and said, “Eighteen-twelve.”   “What…?” Sujan demanded.   “The count.” Roshan answered.   “Then, what about the plan?” I asked.   “How about a cycle ride?” Roshan said impatiently, “I know a route along a village side.” He added.   I said, “It’s ok to me.” And looked at Sujan.   He looked at his bicycle that was leaned against the wall and said, “It needs some repair.”   The day was hot with typical Terai-climate. We three gathered at a cycle repairing centre with our back packs that contained some edibles for the way and a bottle of water. Making sure the sound condition of our bikes we set out for the ride. First, there was the smooth coal-tarred road, then came the rough-gravelled route along the country side. The wind blowing from the opposite direction made us difficult to push the bike forward but created a titillating view as it passed through the green paddy field.   It had been almost two hours since we left the repairing centre and we were all exhausted. We stopped by a pond that was in the centre of a small meadow. We laid our bikes on the grass and sat under the shade of a big mango tree. We opened our back packs and took out a bottle of water and potato chips to nibble.   Roshan threw a stone in the pond and looked at the ripples formed for a long time and finally spoke, “Are we coming to this place again?”   “Why not?” I said.   Sujan took out three apples from his back pack and handed each of two apples to me and Roshan.   “I am going to Kathmandu next month.” Sujan said and added, “My brother’s studying there, and I’ll be studying there too.”   I looked at Roshan and asked, “And when will you be leaving for India?”   “As soon as the result publishes.” He replied briskly.   The heat was quite intense so we spent almost an hour under the shade. Then we decided to leave the place and continue our ride.   “Oh! Shit.” Roshan said.   “What happened?” I inquired.   “The tyre.” Roshan said, pointing the rear tyre of his bicycle. It was completely flattened.   “Look, it’s a thumb pin.” Sujan said, pointing at the tyre where the pin was stuck.   We decided not to go any further as it was least possible to find any cycle repairing centre in the middle of the paddy field. Roshan sat on the carrier of my bicycle holding his cycle with one hand and the lower part of my seat with the other. We then rode along the direction of the wind. As I looked at the paddy field again, I asked myself the question that Roshan had asked before, “Are we coming to this place again?”                 Last edited: 09-Apr-09 09:38 AM