The Lacey Story

No. I did not spell that wrong. I am poet. I decide upon the spelling that I use. Thinking about a possible misspelling, I guess that I could replace lacey with lassy… Maybe not. After all lassy might be lacey but lacey is not lassy. So, I was about to tell you what this post is about?

mmm…Wait. Lets look at my laces first. ‘Laces:A fine open fabric, typically one of cotton or silk, made by looping, twisting, or knitting thread in patterns.’ I hate them. Imagine. What a terrible contraption for tying one’s shoes. It takes so long. Why? Why cruel world? Is that all that your intellect can spew out? You could have found a way round it, couldn’t you?  But we can’t really give up a chance to torture Nishant… Can we? Oh my dear world!!! Stupid centipede like objects stringing around as if they were snakes. And the society thinks that I am the mad one. Here, I considered learning how to tie my laces. The result of the consideration is that I have not gone skating ever since. Then you will ask me, how do I wear my shoes? In general, I do not tie them and I had grown 23 years old without falling. But. But their diabolical plan finally caught up with me. These nasty things strung themselves around the bicycle pedal. I lost my balance. Down I went… As I stared at the starless starry blue sky… “Are you okay?” …  Anyhow I have switched to slippers unless absolutely necessary. 🙂

Sorry for the digression… but wait… did I say cycle? Oh yes. Cycle. Nishant Chandgotia can now cycle and swim. Surprised? Come on. You always knew that I can do it, didn’t you?  Then what was all the laughing and pointing and insulting about? Terrible people…  Terrible terrible people. Remarkably both of them went quite smoothly considering how scared I was(look at the chicken)and there is little to talk about except the history. My first day of swimming when I was kid. I cried so much and then I did not have to go any more. Or you might be thinking of my first day cycling when I broke into my neighbour’s fence and there went my cycling career. How did I learn how to cycle after all?

For this I have to thank my dear friend, Marc. Here is Marc:

The Murky Marc

One of the greatest people around this area, he is a great proponent of Marcism. However let us not talk about Marcism. This blog space is too short for that kind of a discussion. Having found out that I did not know how to cycle, he gifted me one. With the cycle came the social obligation of learning how to ride one. However life had decided otherwise and I was busy for the last month or so. Finally the day arrived, the clouds parted, I decided to learn and Marc decided to teach. After all “”Guru bin gyaan na hoye”(You cannot gain knowledge without a teacher.) I decided that the dingy back alleys of my office is a good place. Here I would not be noticed, maybe ignored and far from cars. To show me how to ride, Marc got on the bike, showed me how to pedal. Then he asked me to try. I fell. He took an obligatory falling down photograph( I posed) and left.

The Fall of Man

A friend of mine was very impressed by this teaching technique but do not be impressed. It is Marcism. It works. Nowadays I go out at 3 in the night to cycle down the Marine Drive while enjoying the beautiful scenery of the full moon over the deep Pacific waters. In short, I can now cycle.

hmm lets return to the topic of the post… Wait what was it? Well later. I have written enough for the day. : -) Thanks Marc. You shall have your Dosa sometime in the future.


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