Chetak

Short Story # 3

Mar 15, 2025

Rohan and Nikita are late for school. It’s not unusual for them to get late. Their school bus comes at 6:30 every day. Sometimes, when they wish to go to school on their father’s scooter, they snooze the alarm for an extra 10 minutes to get their father to drop them off.

It’s not like their father doesn’t understand their mischief. He often plays along—he enjoys how much the kids love the scooter ride.

Yes! It’s the scooter ride that thrills them both. Sitting behind their father, helmets on their heads, their cheeks moving with a fashionable motion against the cold morning wind. It’s a sight to behold for all the other kids who either come walking or by bus!

Rajesh always makes a point to take Sujata, his wife, with them. She too enjoys the rides, her long, silky hair flying in all directions. In those moments, she feels like a bird in the open sky.

For Rajesh, it’s special too. The scooter is his prized possession.

After working extra hours and saving for almost 10 months, he finally bought his Chetak.

Technically, two-wheelers are supposed to carry two people. But Rohan and Nikita slyly adjust between their parents, looking either way to comfortably sit. When they return home from school, they take turns sharing what they saw on their side of the road. Rohan becomes Nikita’s eyes, and she becomes his. Their parents love how observant they are.

Trips to the market, the cinema, even the nearby vegetable vendor—no trip is complete without Chetak. “Chetak is our third child!” Rajesh fondly exclaims, and the rest of the family happily agrees.

At festivals and family events, Chetak is decorated with flowers and tilak. Rajesh and Sujata believe it’s important to pay respect to everything in the house. On Diwali, they even place petals on their sofa and chairs.

“God is everywhere,” Sujata says, placing marigold flowers on Chetak’s seat.

It’s 9 AM. Rohan is late for work. He wakes up hurriedly and rushes to the washroom, hitting his toe on the bed. The water is cold. Nikita still hasn’t gotten the geyser checked. His mood worsens. He pulls on his clothes, comes out of his room, and yells at her.

Nikita sits in the kitchen, her face red. Rohan always makes her late. They work in the same cyber park, so they travel together. She banged on his door a hundred times, but he wouldn’t wake up—watching the match till late, forgetting to turn on his alarm.

Chetak is gone.

Rajesh had no choice but to sell it. It had outlived its life.

Living in the suburbs of Bombay, Chetak nearly drowned every monsoon. In 7-8 years, it came to a halt. Before it turned to scrap, Rajesh sold it. He used the money to buy a new bike.

“Why are you standing there? Reverse the car. I’ll be down in a minute.” Rohan says, balancing on one foot while tying his shoelaces.

“You better wake up early tomorrow. I’m telling Aai today!” Nikita shoves him and runs to the gate.

Rohan loses his balance and falls onto the sofa.

“I’ll see you in the car!!”

“Are we going to Bombay to meet Aai and Baba this month?” Nikita asks in the car.

“We just met them, Niki. Let’s go on Diwali.”

“That’s two months away.”

“So? I don’t feel like traveling anywhere. I hate train and plane journeys.”

“How times change… Have you forgotten how we never missed a chance to go anywhere with Baba? Even to the grocery shop?”

“Niki, yaar! Don’t remind me of Chetak. I’ll cry. I think I have travel issues because of it.”

“Best days…”

“…of our lives,” Rohan finishes, smiling.

The car stops at a red light. They both stare outside, waiting for it to turn green.

“Niki, I see kids playing on the footpath.”

“Hmm, I see a family in a red car. They look really happy.”

“I see a young lady on a bike. She looks really pretty.”

“I see a delivery boy on his scooter, balancing his package.”

“Weekend, Niki. Let’s go.”

“What? Where? Aai Baba?”

“Absolutely. I can’t wait. Hey, can we go today?”

Nikita leans closer. “What happened, Bhai? You okay?”

As the light turns green, a family of four on a scooter passes by them.

Nikita smiles. They share a quiet moment for the rest of the journey.

I invite you to reflect and write on the following prompt:

Write about something you once thought would always be a part of your life, only to realize one day that it was gone. How did its absence change you?

As a feature of all my newsletters, I share one song, one book, one plant-based meal, one film/video that inspired me, and some photographic updates from my life.