memoir

I had been summoned by my parents to take our scooter to the roadside repairer to do its puncture. As the sun was out, bright yellow, I moaned while fumbling for the keys of the two-wheeler. All through the stairs, I kept moaning and sported a face with my cheeks drooped down. Anyways, I unlocked the scooter and out of reluctance to pull that heavy steel body to the repairer under the scorching sun, I thought of riding the scooter but then dropped the foolish idea. Reaching the destination, I asked the man, a tobacco chewing man garbed in a rugged up green shirt and a trouser folded twice from the bottom to repair the puncture but he showed me his priorities pointing towards a scooter and a car already parked there for getting repaired. I had to wait. Here was I, moaning loudly of the sun and there was my protagonist, that tobacco man working ceaselessly under the same angry sun, changing tyres, inflating them with right amount of air, sweating in between and doing punctures but he endured all that calmly. I jerked myself angrily to learn that toleration. I learnt how to lose all your problems, all your complaints in the dedication for your work.