MY BICYCLE AND MY FRIEND'S POEM

We are three. We met each other in the college. We were all freshers. Destiny bound us together and after about five decades, we have become more a family than friends. I am the only one living outside our home town. Whenever in solititude I habituated to muse over the past and past is always golden. It was one such time that I remembered an incident.
I had purchased a second hand cycle as my job demanded one. As I was thin and to shed as much weight as possible I had selected a cycle without a carrier. As all the three of us always moved in a bunch, the cycle would remain in any one of our house. Usually one friend would come to my house and then we would ride in the cycle to the third person's house. I being the weaker of the three would always sit on the cross bar and my friend would sit in the seat of the cycle and pedal it. The abscence of a carrier forced us to keep the cycle in the house and we would roam the streets. My friends were pressing me to fit a carrier so that all the three could ride on the cycle which in turn would enhance the area of our influence, they indicated. I did not yield their point as additional load would certainly lead to more wear and tear of the tyres and other parts.
One fine early morning my friend whom I fondly call SAM ( Only in my mind ) came to my house and wanted borrow my cycle to go to our friend's house. Nothing was unusual in it. But when i offered to accompany him he declined and went away. That was certainly unusuall. I waited for a lon g time for them to come to my house to pick me. In fact I waited for them till three p.m. and as He replied. My first thought was the additional wear and tear due to the additional load it had to carry henceforth. However I was equally excited at the thought of a brand new stainless steel carrier fitted on my cycle without myself a single paise. The picture of my cycle with a gleaming carrier flashed in my mind many times and my face wore a big smile every time the picture flashed.
As we reached my friend's house the picture was completely changed. In fact they had purchased an old carrier from a vendor dealing in old iron parts. My friend was straightening the bends with a hammer and was trying to fit the same in my cycle. The bolt holes had become oval and the rivetted joints had become loose. I protested loudly tears welling in my eyes (well hidden from others of course). No need to say that I removed it at the earliest oppertunity.
Oh! You are wondering about the poem part. YES. Sam wrote a poem about my cycle and I happened to see the same after decades. I am giving below the same so that all can enjoy.
QUOTE
OVER THE HOLLOW OR ON THE SHALLOW
NEVER USED TO FAIL OR EVEN TO FOLLOW
PHILLIPS IS THE NAME SUITED BY ONE
PHIP-RIP IS THE ONE SELECTED BY MINE
NEVER SAW HIS FALL SUCH LIKE A GRIP
HE TOO GENTLE HE WOULD NOT GRIP (FIGHT)
THERE IS A BELL TOO ON ITS BAR
LOOK LIKE A HANDSOME UGLY SCAR
AS I AM TO TAKE MY SEAT
STOPPING HERE TO WRITE
ADVISING HIM TO PUT OIL A PINT.
UNQUOTE

Whenever I used to point out to hom that he had praised about the faithfulness and reliability of my cycle, he used to reply with a sheepish smile'
"Poets always lie to please a friend.

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