I always enjoy riding on motorbikes. I'm not too obsessed with them, but I enjoy going on them whenever I get the chance; especially in India. Here, in the US, there are not many motorbikes. You certainly don't see them often around here. I have a deep fascination with motorbikes because they are just unique and extremely fast. Whenever my grandpa rides his motorbike, I feel as if I’m in a real motorbike race. I just admire the mouth-watering smell of the food vendors, people in colorful saris and dresses, and the small shops on both sides of the road, with colorful signs on top of them.
Also, I must add. It’s a thrilling experience, but sometimes unexpected things can happen. Such as getting the heel of the foot stuck in the sharp, thin blades of the motorbike wheels. It happened to me once, and it’s something I’m never going to forget- not ever.
On that early morning, my mother had called me out to say hello to my grandpa, who had just returned from his farm. I grabbed on my favorite shoes- my lustrous, shiny Twinkle Toes, and raced to the gate where I knew my grandpa would be waiting to greet me.
Before anyone could say anything, I blurted, “Can I go for a motorbike ride? I instantly pulled on my best hat trick yet- I made those innocent puppy eyes that were hard to resist. They both glanced at each other with uncertainty, with hesitation. I knew my hat trick had worked when they finally agreed. I squealed and jumped in joy. I hopped on my grandpa's black motorbike and dreamt of all the fabulous things I would see.
As we rode into the town, we saw many small shops. The sky was a pretty blue color, and there were people all around us. There were people riding motorbikes, townspeople walking with groceries, and people in shops. I could smell the food vendors, even from a distance. My mouth watered, recognizing the scent of one of my favorite Indian snacks, Vada. I was too into the busy scenery bustling around me that it had not occurred to me that my foot had gotten stuck in the motorbike tire.
Only five seconds later, I realized. Agony spread through my entire body, causing my voice to erupt in pain. My grandfather immediately stopped. As I looked down at the injured foot, I was in shock. My favorite shoe was destroyed, but that was not all. What I saw next was even more horrifying than the destruction of my favorite shoe.
My heel was injured! My pulse was racing, and my breathing increased rapidly. No, this can't be real. No, this is just a dream, I said to reassure myself. Even my inner self knew for a fact that this was reality, and this was a nightmare come true.
“Oh, Pragalya, I am so sorry this happened to you. We need to get you home now.” My grandfather said his voice wobbling, with a twinge of guilt. I wanted to reach out to him and tell him it was alright, but I couldn’t seem to do it. I didn’t even know how to reassure him. Yet, he wasted no time. He turned his motorbike and drove us on the route to home. I sighed heavily. He was right. We needed to get home immediately.
“Grandpa, it’s not your fault. I was being careless. Well, looks like mom and grandma are gonna have a real shocker when we get home, that’s for sure.” the words spill out of my mouth, and I try to turn my eyes away from the hideous sight in front of me. Grandpa nodded, and we rode home the rest of the way in utter silence.
As I said, my mother and grandmother had a real shocker. I told them the whole story of how my foot got injured, and I gave all the details I could give. My mom immediately dialed for a rickshaw to arrive quickly, and my mother carried me off the motorbike- which I was still sitting on. This is not at all good, I murmured under my breath.
“You know, if you had listened to me, this would have never happened.” my mother said softly with concern. I nodded in agreement and we were quiet for the rest of the ride. The rickshaw eventually halted, and I knew we had reached the hospital. I winced at the burning sensation in my heel, then jumped out of the rickshaw.
I was limping like a lame duck. My mom extended her hand to me to offer me help. As she gave me the balance and support I needed to climb up the stairs in front of us without falling, people were staring at my hideous heel, which no longer normal. Is it that bad? I wondered, then frowned at the thought. As we climbed the stairs and reached the top, I spotted green, comfortable-looking chairs in the waiting area. I hurried over to a seat and breathed a sigh of relief.
My mom was chatting to me until a man, a doctor, approached us and asked us to come in. We followed him to a small room. The doctor examined my foot, and he knew what needed to be done. He called for some more doctors to assist him in healing my wound. The doctors cut the hanging skin on the area where my heel was supposed to be. I winced, for it was quite painful. Next, they added some disinfectant on my wound, and that set off a burning sensation in my heel. I yelled because it felt like an acidic reaction on my heel. Then, they wrapped my foot up in big, medical cloth. The fire inside my heel cooled a bit, and I was already feeling much better. The doctors then advised me to take as much rest as possible. I groaned, knowing that meant no playing for a couple of days, or possibly, a couple of weeks.
As I came on the way home, I realized that the Twinkle Toes were the only shoes I had brought to India with me. I asked the rickshaw to halt, I needed to buy a new shoe. My mother spent about 30 mins choosing a shoe for me, and the rickshaw took us home.
When we reached home, I slid on my new shoes. I got down from the rickshaw and limped towards the house. I sighed and went into my room.
"Go to the bedroom, and take some rest." my mom ordered, and I obeyed.
I laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I never knew something so small as a fun motorbike ride could cause something so disastrous. I made a mental note to myself to never get lost in my thoughts again, and to be more aware of my feet the next time I rode on a motorbike.