Some skills are now just a distant memory

As I sit down to write after a nearly two-month break due to other commitments not allowing me to spend time on this activity, I wonder if I have lost the skill. Or, is it like cycling or swimming?

People say you can never forget these two last-mentioned skills however long the break in between. However, I am sceptical of long-held beliefs as, in my experience, what holds good for others, doesn’t apply to me.

Let me tell you about my cycling saga. I cycled a lot as a child and, although I didn’t have a bicycle of my own, I borrowed my sister’s whenever I got the chance or caught her in a good mood. The feeling of independence and being able to take off at will was immensely pleasurable.

In those halcyon days of little traffic or other safety fears, my parents didn’t have to worry about accidents or strangers accosting their child. My school was within walking distance, so I couldn’t insist on getting my own cycle. But, whenever I got the chance, I would hop on to a cycle and feel very grown up as I parked it in the cycle shed in school.

After some years, we moved further away from my school and a teacher, who was also a family friend, offered me a lift to and fro every day. So, my cycling sessions became practically non-existent until they became a faint memory when I changed schools and had to take the bus. As we moved from one city to another, the distance to the academic institution made it impossible to contemplate this mode of transport. Soon, the skill became rusty from disuse.

But I clung on to the hope that whenever I decided to get back on the saddle, so to speak, it would all come back to me. The chance to test this came years later when a group of college friends decided to hire bikes to ride to a village nearby where a Hindi movie shoot was taking place. We were star-struck teenagers and the fact that the director was well-known for his offbeat films made it even more imperative that we meet him in the flesh. Off we went to the rental shop.

As soon as I stood beside the cycle I was to ride, panic struck. As I tried getting on, I found myself wobbling so badly that I simply could not find my balance. My ‘so-called’ friends, who had managed to get on to their conveyances, looked at me in shock, which soon gave way to a fit of giggles.

Eventually, it was decided that one of them would give me a ride as they couldn’t trust me to arrive at our destination in one piece. Of course, all through that journey, I had to hear disbelieving remarks about some people actually not being able to cycle.

Sitting on the microscopic seat, I soon found out the meaning of the word ‘uncomfortable’. Every bump on the road threatened to dislodge me. That was when I resolved to never try this mode of transport again.

As for swimming, as children, we went to the swimming pool every summer. I thought I knew how to swim and, years later, when I went to the seaside, yet another myth was destroyed. I found myself floundering in the water. My flailing limbs didn’t seem to know what was expected of them. Deciding not to call attention to myself, I sat on the sand and watched the others frolicking in the azure waters. There were calls to join them and the fun they were having, but I was not moved by the invitation to disaster.

I have just realised that I have come to the end of my piece. Thank God, there ARE some things we don’t forget, such as writing.