[A poem by Mr. Makineedi Surya Bhaskar titled ‘Time Leaning Against a Wall’.]
The Rally bicycle
my father bought for me
is gone, in truth –
and yet it still leans against the wall,
motionless..
an old cycle, time –
that is my poetry.
It no longer moves, now..
but how many roads it has crossed
only its wheels remember.
On its faded frame
the peeling paint is not paint at all –
it is the time’s script of memories.
Where my hands once held the handle
the warmth of childhood palms
the scent of a first frightened sweat
still quietly kindles my sensations.
The chain has frozen tight –
not merely from fatigue,
but as the chronicle
of halted velocities.
Turn the pedals now – nothing stirs;
yet once the earth itself
used to slide backward..
time walked slowly then.
And still, on this very cycle
I crossed colleges,
circled villages,
nested the dreams of youth.
Then, the sky-covered roads
were very small and narrow
now the roads themselves
climb into the sky.
Speeds have multiplied –
yet my freedom still
spins endlessly
between those two wheels,
supporting the rhythms
of my mind..
This old bicycle
may be useless to everyone now –
yet even today it remains
the vehicle of my dreams
the first language of my freedom
the breath of two wheels.
The final witness of my childhood –
in every faded scar
a whole year lies hidden.
In its unsounded bell
the time of silent days and nights
continues to move.
Now I pedal with words –
while the mind
leaning against the wall..
that same old bicycle
still keeps
guiding me!
