Who He Was, Who He Is: The Famous Bike Ride Story
Imtiaz clenched the money in his hand as he made his way out of the house and into the narrow streets of Rawalpindi, Pakistan. Repeating the grocery list in his head he walked briskly; the guests, whoever they may be, were going to be at his house any second and he better have brought all the grocery items before or else he would be reprimanded. There is no way, he thought, that he was going to make it back on time. Being the second youngest in a family with ten children, he was the one who was sent to run many of the errands for the elders, exclusively his parents, uncle, and older siblings. He was rushing not so much to get the items but rather to avoid the punishment he would face for not doing so .
Finally making it to the food-stand, Imtiaz greeted the owner and quickly collected the items from the list he had carefully memorized. After paying, he carried the vegetables in a bag. He knew he was never going to make it back home no matter how rapidly he scrolled down the streets. In a short panic he spotted a wooden sign written in sloppy urdu hanging limply by a stall surrounded by nearly a dozen bikes. “Rent a Bike for only 10 rupees,” he read. Putting the bag of groceries on the floor, Imtiaz quickly stuffed his hand in his pockets to see how much change he had left. He only had 8 rupees, but he was lucky to have even that much, usually his mother would give him exact change. Picking up his belongings he rushed to the shady-man standing by the stall. “Look Sir, I only have 8 rupees, and I really need a bike, fast.” “Can’t you read the sign, it says 10,” the man replied. “But fine, since you really need one, take this one.” The bike was a bit scratched up, but happy that he was able to get the bike at a bargain, Imtiaz slapped the 8 rupees in the man’s hand and jumped on the bike, stuffing all the grocery in the bike’s basket.
Biking was definitely more lenient to his bare feet. He didn’t have to feel the hard and eroding surfaces of the streets which were often littered heavily. He biked as fast as he could, avoiding all obstacles that came in his path. If someone came in his lane, he swerved away. At this rate, he might actually get everything home on time. Peddling even faster than before, Imtiaz got in the rhythm of swerving a little to the left and then a little to the right or what needed be. He spotted a fork in the road ahead, each road getting narrower from the one they were splitting from. Looking ahead, he saw that on the right path was a man walking steadily, dressed in a neat and tidy suit. He shifted his gaze to the left and realized that emerging from the other path were two huge oxen dragging a cart with a man and his materials. He was going to have to stop and let either of the two coming forward to pass so he would not collide into one.
The two figures got bigger as Imtiaz approached the fork in the road. He gently pushed down the breaks, but the bike continued to speed down the road. Suddenly, his face flushed and his heart raced. Why wasn’t the bike breaking? He tried it again, and the bike only sped faster down. The oxen continued forward as did the man in the suit. Now he had to make a decision; should he run into the oxen dragging the cart or the man in the suit? He had to make a choice fast! Using his rational, Imtiaz knew that crashing into the oxen was going to be more painful and damaging. Quickly veering to the right, he suddenly crashed into the well-dressed man.
The Man, the bike, the grocery and Imtiaz were all scattered on the floor. Imtiaz slowly recovering from the impact got up. The man brightened with anger, got up and stormed towards Imtiaz. Without a single word, he drew his right hand back and with as much force he could gather, flung his hand forward, slapping Imtiaz squarely on his left cheek. The man then fixed his suit and continued walking. Stunned for a moment, Imtiaz gathered his belongings and got the bike. Flushed with anger and amazement, Imtiaz dragged the bike and his belongings back to the man who was in the stall renting out the bikes. “What kind of flimsy bike did you give me? The breaks are broken. I want my money back!,” Imtiaz shouted heatedly throwing an accusing finger at the scratched-up bike. “Hey Mr.,” the seller replied defensively, “Just because you got slapped doesn’t mean you should take it out on me. The bike is all wrecked now.” The man wasn’t planning on giving the money back but he did take the broken bike back.
Seeing no gain from the conversation, Imtiaz ran home with the grocery in each hand. His great plan for speeding up the process only ended up making him later than before. He finally got home and unfortunately, the guest had already arrived. Handing the items quickly to his sisters, Imtiaz was glad that his mother wasn’t insight. However, after being gently chastised from his sisters, as Imtiaz got ready to leave the kitchen he saw his mother approaching him. It was too late for him to turn the other way because he had already made eye contact. The events following included harsh scolding and the rebuking, which went beyond words.
Imtiaz would laughingly repeat the bike story to his four children in years to come. However no matter how lightly he illustrated the matter, his children are well aware of the circumstances Imtiaz was put in as a child. There were many similar events in Imtiaz’s life that reflected the concept of being placed in obligatory situations that seemed more than impossible to complete. Despite the difficulty he faced in these situations, he always put family necessity before his own desires. One of his favorite quotes, his son Mohammad Makhdoom said, is “You are either part of the solution or part of the problem,” something Imtiaz echoed in his household even after he had left his father’s house in Rawalpindi and emigrated to the United States.
December 18th, 2007 at 9:34 pm
Very interesting story. I began to read the excerpt and was forced to continue reading out of curiosity. Its interesting how anecdotes like that seem so painful as they are occurring, but afterwards one can look back upon them and laugh. My father also had many interesting stories to tell me about his childhood. This project really did allow us to hear some very interesting stories.