First Flight
The art of balancing oneself is perhaps the most difficult thing in a human’s life. I don’t remember the days when I took the first giant step independently, but I still remember the days I balanced myself in a bicycle. All bruised, bloodied, I still remember the joys of paddling my cycle and wondering how the whole world is passing besides me, saluting me…hey this boy has grown up, take notice of him…he is not a kid anymore…salute, salute. The dogs I used to feed biscuits (stolen from the kitchen) everyday, sprang up from their lazy naps. They were undecided on whether to bark or not in this unusual scene. I zoomed past my cycle from the busy hens pecking dusty grains, they started a cacophonous complaint as a new trouble has strike them from the heaven. I felt proud to be the master of this universe. I was a HE-MAN, wearing half-pant and vest, my sweats drying fast in the cold morning air. I got a foothold, a mould, and descended respectfully. I turned my bicycle and saw, the whole