Today, as I was cycling with my friends, playing and what not, an old memory was brought back to mind. It is quite memorable, and it will be treasured by me for a long time.
Back when I lived in Bangalore, India, i had this tiny (compared to now) red cycle. I was quite adamant to have the training wheels off the cycle, but my father dragged me along the way, saying that i never will learn if i don’t do it. I begged him not to do so on the way to the repair shop, but out went the training wheels.
An hour or two later, I was outside with the cycle once again, my father holding the seat behind me. He promised that he would hold me as I cycled, which he did for a while, until he let go. I was gaining speed and when i looked back I almost fell down. But that was the first time i cycled, truly on my own